In which tensions run high and Chuck is promoted

AN: Busy couple of days, so this is getting posted on Sunday night, sorry about the delay, but here's hoping you enjoy the chapter :)

Also, with this update, we are now approximately two thirds of the way through the story (whether you see that as good or bad...)

Guest Reply: Loving It - Thank you! Really glad you like the story so much so far, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter, too!

"It's late."

Yes. Thank you.

We all know the box is late. It's due today; everyone's sure of it, and yet it's gone past lunchtime and still not even a rattle from the tunnel under the red doors.

Gally's the one to speak.

He's wearing one of his typical 'I'm not happy' expressions and he looks about one more needless comment from starting to pace a trench into the ground.

Newt throws him a look that's partly understanding, and partly exasperated. "It'll be here," he says patiently.

There's something in his expression, though, and I think he's nearly as worried.

A few of us have gathered outside Homestead, by the fire pit as the afternoon wears on. It's not like anyone can really focus at this point, anyway.

I'm sitting on one of the logs, legs out in front of me, rolling up bandages.

My hand is almost totally healed; it's sealed over, but still a little tender. I'm just thankful I've been able to return to using it. The cut wasn't deep, and like Newt's injury, the bleeding was a bit over the top for the severity of it.

Lee and Eric stand the other side of the ashy pit, their eyes darting repeatedly to the Box platform and up to the sky, as though trying to read the time. Gally and Newt stand not far from them.

Rob came down to fetch some ties from a store hut and stayed, Henry is doodling what looks like a two storey treehouse with a stick in the sand and Stan, Alex and Scott are all gathered in the kitchen doorway; Scott absently stirring away in a bowl as he stands.

Alby's tension isn't helping. He isn't even stood with us, but the fact that he's been a little short and abrupt since lunchtime, and is now stood at the top of the Lookout Tree, just waiting, kind of puts a cloud on everyone. Newt's basically taken over keeping an eye on the Gladers. He handles leadership well, even if he doesn't always like it.

Newt's eyes catch mine as Gally folds his arms with a huff.

I can read that expression easily.

I stuff the bandages into the satchel and stand up.

The weather has only been getting warmer, and I'm still wearing my hacked up shorts with the long, borrowed sweaters. The rough fabric of the bag settles against the softer skin at the back of my thighs as I throw it over my shoulder. The weight of it itches, but the bags are useful to carry around.

"Okay," I say. "Lee, come on – let's head up to the Bloodhouse. Rob, you should head off, too." I shift my gaze to Eric and say, "We're not doing any good waiting around."

Rob nods briskly and takes off at a jog without hanging about.

Lee and Eric do a fist bump. As I step around the fire pit to them, Eric seems to take the words to heart. He picks up a sling of branches and nods his head to the side, nudging Henry, who also gets to his feet.

"I'm going to go finish this," Eric says. "Henry; come on. It'll be fine, Gally."

"I'll catch you up," Gally says, unmoved.

He actually looks like he's bursting to say something.

"Okay, and we're gone," I say lightly. I pass Newt and give him a tiny nod as even the Cooks duck back into the Kitchen. At least I've been able to clear out most of the gathering.

Newt smiles faintly at me as I catch up to Lee, but it's not an easy expression.

Gally's already turning to him to get his rant off his chest. I can't hear most of it as I leave them by Homestead, but I catch words – late, changing, problem, mess, prepared…and I'm reminded that Gally is Gally, and any upset to the system is one he takes to heart.

But Newt can handle Gally better than most people with his persistent level-headedness, so I'll leave that to him quite happily.

There's still things to do and there's still hours left of light. It's too early to panic yet.

…

I've finished in the Medi Tent for the day, and am setting out the usual vegetables and leftovers for the rabbits and goats when Chuck finds me in the pens behind the Bloodhouse.

"Hey," I call to him. "What's brought you up here?"

Chuck leans on the gate, sighing. His expression is downcast beneath his curly hair. "Passing time," he says. "The Greenie Pack's all ready and we've cleared up Homestead and finished Laundry for the day…I just thought I wouldn't still be the Greenie by now."

I can only offer him a sympathetic smile.

Since the Cake Incident, Chuck's excitement has only been increasing on an hourly basis.

Alex recovered from his concussion; Stan's hand already has shiny new skin where his burn was and Newt's been fine since the day it happened.

If he remembers everything that happened that day, I still haven't asked.

The memory of him kissing me is seared into my mind. And I can be brave about some things, but not this. I still don't really know if he remembers, and I can't bring myself to ask him. I content myself with the memory and that nothing between us seems to have changed. Losing him over it would be worse than not knowing.

And while we all recovered and got back to normal, Chuck turned to the pranks.

Until late last night, when he started asking questions non-stop.

It's hard enough being the youngest – it's easy to see why he doesn't want to be the newbie, too.

But the Box hasn't arrived, and I can't even begin to find an excuse for that for him.

I leave the pen and Chuck falls into step with me as I drop the empty feed bucket at the back of the Butchery. I swap it for the rake and let myself into the chicken pen.

Chuck sits on a barrel as I quickly tidy up the ground and check the water dishes.

"How's everyone else doing?" I ask him, to pass the time.

Chuck shrugs, "Okay, I think. Everyone's working, but you can see them looking at the Box and the sky and worrying. Gally's got a bad feeling."

Gally is one of the boys in the Glade who choose to believe what we have is a true sustainable way of life, and it's ours now. I know from seeing him just a little earlier by Homestead that he's definitely been upset by the delay. 'A bad feeling' seems to be putting it lightly.

"Come on, then," I say the next minute. I let myself out and stand up the rake. "Let's head back down to Homestead. I've got things to drop off and I'm sure you can find time to do something else."

Chuck nods, putting a half-hearted smile on his face. I pick up the jugs of milk and basket of eggs I collected before feeding time and we both start the trek down.

We're just approaching the Kitchen when the alarm blares across the Glade.

Chuck looks up, his eyes bright and his sad smile blossoming into something elated. "Alright!" he says. "I'm going to go and check the stuff."

He hurries away and I don't think to tell him that it'll be a little while before its time to hand over the sleeping roll and supplies.

I'm still standing on the spot when Frypan goes rushing past me with Stan on his heels.

"Eva!" He cheers when he spots me just outside. "You coming?"

"I'll catch up," I say, making myself move again. "I'm just going to put these inside."

Fry throws a thumbs up over his shoulder and I duck into the Kitchen.

The others are just throwing lids onto various pans as they all go running outside, too. I set down the milk and eggs and follow.

By this time, I can see that Lee, Dan and Rob have all helped to pull open the doors of the cage and Gally's already hauled up the new boy. He's still on his back in the grass, clearly panicking as he looks at the assembled faces.

He's got short, dark hair and is wearing a long sleeved blue shirt. Across the field, it's hard to tell his age, but he doesn't look nearly as young as Chuck, which was a concern for a few people.

And then he forces himself to his feet, knocks aside Zart and Jeff and sprints.

I stop, still halfway across the field.

No one tries to chase him.

He's fast, but he's also running in a total blind panic, and I can see the outcome just before it happens. He loses his balance; weight too far forwards.

He slams into the ground hard, tumbles over himself and sprawls in the grass.

Ouch.

The boys all cheer. It is a little funny. When you've seen the exact same panic several times over and you know they're all as okay as you can expect to be a few days later, Box Day reactions can be kind of amusing.

They all make their way for him, as the boy slowly rises to his feet.

From the expression on his face, to the way he slowly turns on the spot – no longer focused on the Gladers – I can tell he's spotted the slightly bigger issue of the Wall.

He doesn't even fight back as Billy and Jackson herd him to the Slammer.

…

He's not left there for long. An hour later as everyone gets through their last chores for the day, I spot Alby walking him through the field.

"Another Tour," Clint says beside me.

They pass a little closer to the Medi Hut, and it's easier to see that the Greenie is taller than I am, probably around Newt's height. He looks a similar age, too – seventeen or eighteen – rather than fifteen or Chuck's twelve. He takes most of it in without talking much and he's trying to look at everything at once.

He and Alby move on.

I'm left frowning as I mash up tea tree for a remedy. Something about him is different; he's been here a couple of hours at most and already it's like he's mentally cataloguing as much as possible.

There was none of the usual stream of questions when he arrived.

I've moved on to scraping the pulpy medicine from the bottom of the mortar I've been using when a shadow falls across us.

"Any of you seen Chuck?" Newt asks. He looks like he's thinking a fair bit, too.

Clint shakes his head. "Sorry, Man."

I set down the grinding bowl. "He was with me earlier; said he was going to get the pack ready." Clint gives me a nod as I stand up. "I'll see if I can find him."

Newt turns after me and we fall into step, turning our backs on the field.

"He's been called for, then?" I ask. "He'll be happy."

Newt smiles faintly. "Yeah. I think Alby just needs a break. Chuck can get him settled."

"Maybe," I say, absently as we make our way around to the back of Homestead. "He's different."

Newt shoots me a look. There's something strange laced with the curiosity in his eyes. "In what way?"

"He panicked for all of about five minutes," I say. "As soon as he saw the walls, he just kind of…went still. I've watched Alby walk him around, and it's like he's just kind of, I don't know – waiting?"

I look over at him and realise we've stopped. "I don't know what it is; but I've not seen Winston or Henry or Rob just calm down after half an hour in the Pit and then get on with it. Has he asked any questions?"

Newt looks contemplative as he nods. "Yeah. Alby introduced me properly a minute ago. I told him I thought he might have been fast enough to be a Runner – if he didn't faceplant. He just asked me what a Runner was."

"So before he asks anything about who he is, or who we are, or why he's here – he wants to know about that? That word can't have any meaning for him."

Newt looks over his shoulder, but we're alone. "Gally's concerned," he admits.

"He came up late and now he's not acting like the others," I say. "I'm not surprised. There's Chuck."

Newt looks across to where I point.

Despite the distance, it's easy to see the youngest is partway through stringing up a new hammock in the space next to his. There's a kind of nervous excitement to him as he works.

Newt looks back at me for a second, and I get the odd feeling he wants to say something else, but then he turns and signals for Chuck.

The boy looks over at us, smile still on his face.

"You're up," Newt calls. "Alby wanted you. They should be at the Lookout Tree soon."

"I'm on it," Chuck yells back.

He hauls up a huge, neatly arranged pack from the ground, and it almost buries him, but he shuffles it and makes his way off, just able to peer around the armload.

"I need to talk to you," Newt says, as soon as Chuck is gone.

There's something serious in his tone. "Sure," I say. "What is it?"

He tugs me gently further into the shadow behind the Mess Hall. "There's a bow under your hammock," he says, and it's not what I was expecting.

I've had that there for ages now, and not touched it for a little while, either, what with the Kitchen explosion and my hand getting cut up. No one has noticed before.

"How do you know?" I ask, frowning.

He doesn't look straight at me as he shrugs, "I was looking for you. Glanced into your room. I could see it out of the edge of the sack you keep in there."

Well, at least that's an explanation.

"What of it?" I ask.

Newt looks down the path we've walked again. There's something unsettled in his expression. "I've never seen you use it. Not once. And no one else has said anything, so I'm guessing they don't know. But you're right; this kid is different and we don't know if that's good or not."

He turns over my hand, and drops a tiny collection of cold pieces into it. I pick one up and it takes me just a second to recognise seven slender arrowheads. They're made from delicate but sharp-edged pieces of flint, all slightly different shapes and colours.

They're strangely beautiful.

"Wh-" I half ask. "Where did you get these?"

His eyes stay on the arrowheads in my hand. "Eric asked me to give them to you," he says. There's an odd note in his voice when he asks, "How does he know?"

I look up at him, curling my fingers around the arrowheads. "We're in cahoots," I say. "He got me the branch and left out the spikes I used for the arrows. I didn't really tell him anything, but he must have guessed."

"Bloody builders," Newt mutters. Then he does look at me again. "Start using it," he says. "If it works for you. One day we are going to get out, and if you know how to use a weapon you'll be safer."

He really means this.

I somehow know that agreeing will give him some peace of mind, so I nod firmly.

Relief flashes through his dark eyes, and though I expected it, it still makes me feel better about actively learning to injure something.

"I've got to go," Newt says, and I nod again.

My mind is still on the conversation when he gently cradles the back of my neck and kisses my forehead. He leaves, sweeping past me.

I'm not even surprised. I still wonder if he remembers kissing me – really kissing me that day – but right now, I don't need to know. We're still us; what we've always been. We're easy together, and that's enough for now.

There's too much else to worry about.

…

By twilight, everyone is muttering about the new Greenie's attempt to escape.

Gally technically saved his life, but also got him riled up in the process so all the Keepers had to step in to defuse the situation before he ran off into the Maze.

"At least you just hid in a tree, Evie," Frypan chuckles. "You should have seen him; actually looked like he was considering making his escape through the Doors."

Well, it's true that the Doors and the Maze beyond are really our only options for escape. But when you consider that those Doors were about to close, that night is coming, that the walls keep changing and that the boy had no idea about any of it…well, it does seem just as ridiculous an option as Frypan makes it out to be.

I gather the armful of hay from the ground by the table where Fry is laying out the Feast and make my way for the fire pit.

"Can we drop the tree thing, now?" I ask, teasing. "It's been five months."

Frypan sighs. His jolly mood seems to quieten.

"Feels like longer," he says.

All I can do is nod.

It's always felt like forever to me. I wonder how long it feels to the boys who have actually been here years.

I start stacking the hay clumps into the pit between the twigs. The sky is already gathering darkness.

Across the field, Dan, Winston, Lee, Frankie, Jeff and Rob are all trying to coral the wild hog that came up in the box with the Greenie. Someone dropped the cage as they lifted it out and the pig made a break for it.

They've been trying to catch it for around an hour now.

Zart joins me, starting to set out his own arrangement of twigs.

"Met him yet?" The Keeper asks, jerking his head to the side.

I glance past him at the dark haired boy. He's sitting pensively, eyes darting about and at his side is Chuck. He's not been left alone since apparently trying to escape through the Doors when all the Keepers, Newt and Alby had to race over to stop him.

"Not officially," I say. "Been wrapped up most of the afternoon. You?"

"Nah," he says. "He looks quieter than the others."

He's different.

It's on the edge of my tongue, but I don't say it.

Newt's seen it, too, and as he said – it could be good or bad. Until we know, better to avoid scaring anyone.

"Some people are shy," I say instead.

Zart sniggers. "True."

There's a loud wail, and we look up. The boy sitting by Chuck starts like someone's set fire to his hair.

Lee goes sailing past us, dragged along on his front as he hangs determinedly onto a rope around the pig's middle. Its hard to work out what is the pig squealing and what is Lee yelling for help.

"Get him, Lee!" Dan cheers as he runs after them.

I sit back, giving Zart space to finish stacking twigs as he laughs.

The others make their way over to us as Newt and Alby appear from the Kitchen. Both of them carry torches and Frypan follows them out with a handful of unlit ones.

The Box Feast is about to start.

Just as soon as Lee manages to catch the Feast part.

…

This boy is called Thomas.

Gally doesn't like him.

Newt spends a chunk of the evening talking to him – apparently he does have questions – and then introducing him to some of the faces in the Glade as everyone celebrates around the fire. Apparently he took me seriously when I said he should try doing the tour and introductions. With Alby being so tense all day, he's probably not explained as much as usual.

I'm sitting with Dan and Clint when Gally throws one of his Builders out of the Ring and he knocks into the Greenie.

He's quickly chanted into the Ring himself, with Jeff leading it on.

In less than two seconds he's out. He tries again, and again. He manages to catch Gally off, but doesn't get out of the way quick enough.

When the boy's head hits the ground, it shakes loose his name.

INFO

1. Its mentioned briefly in the movie that the box came up a bit late. Basically I used that and just embellished on it. Given the way Alby is with Chuck, they clearly have a quite laid back relationship, which is what indicated to me that Alby must be more relaxed in general than we see him for most of the film. So while he can be a bit single-minded in my story, I feel like his very to-the-point manner with Thomas had to be brought on by something. Hence using the mention of the Box arriving late as a catalyst. After that, I think we can blame most stuff on Thomas XD

2. Slowly, you may start to see the parallels come up, and little bits of daily routine that are in the movie itself. Don't get me wrong; there's still a lot of story to go, and we're no where near all the answers yet, but having caught up to the start of the movie, you may start to notice these small things. The 'Greenie Pack' for instance, that Chuck mentions, is something every new arrival gets; a hammock, sleeping roll, pillow, food dish, flask and so on. I didn't completely invent this; it was shown in a deleted scene, and I elaborated.

3. The boys trying to round up the pig and failing a bit dismally at it is also something I elaborated on. In the movie commentary, Wes Ball says it was something he wanted to incorporate into the background of the scene where Newt and Thomas talk at the log. In the end, they couldn't get the pig to perform so the idea was scrapped. But that idea was taken from Wes and my pig was more cooperative :)

Chapter 21 - Teaser

Stan stops in front of us. "All yours," he says cheerfully.

Thomas just gives him a bewildered look as the Cook hurries back to Homestead.