Hey! So please go check my profile for an important announcement. I don't have time to write it here because my Internet is literally gone and I'm doing this on my phone!
Reviews:
Smileyface I am: Haha, thanks. I did try to do your request but It didn't come out well, so it probably won't be on here. Sorry! Enjoy the chapter!
thepandabella: Glad you liked it! Thanks for reviewing!
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Fluffy: Glad you liked it! Thanks for reviewing!
MazeRunnerGirl: I'm happy you enjoyed it! Thanks for suggesting it! I can relate, although it's usually me making my friends laugh and them getting annoyed. ;)
Dr. Paige wandered through the rainbow painted hallways. Her coat swished out behind her, elongating her shadow into an inhuman shape. She surveyed the corridor before her.
Doors on either side, each painted with stars and spaceships and flowers. Some swelling with the sound of voices within, and others disturbingly quiet. She walked slowly to the left door, peeking through the barred window.
It was dark, too much so to see the room's inhabitant, but not quite enough to miss the several empty syringes and vials. They lay there, discarded amongst other possessions: An empty matchbox; a silver button; and a stuffed bear, head ripped clear off.
Dr. Paige sighed, stroking the bars.
"The patients are in the lounge for snack time," A teenager with black hair and lab coat tapped her on the shoulder.
"Already?" Dr. Paige asked.
"It's three 'o clock," The boy smiled.
Dr. Paige wrinkled her brow.
"Oh. Time must have escaped me."
"That's very easy when the only clocks in the place are in the Employee Lounge."
"Hm...yes. Indeed," Dr. Paige mused. "You've been a great help to me Thomas. You get a promotion."
"I've only worked here a week Dr., I don't think I'm ready..."
"Nonsense. The institution would be empty and deserted were it not for you," Dr. Paige smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Thank you but, isn't that the whole point? To empty this place out and help the people here to get better?"
Dr. Paige startled, blinking rapidly. She nodded and all hints of a smile washed away.
"That's what I meant," She purred. "Now go tend to the patients Thomas, I'm very busy."
Thomas nodded and turned away, an odd feeling bubbling inside him.
"Oh! And Thomas?" Dr. Paige called out.
"Yes Dr.?"
"Don't forget to eat something yourself dear, you're looking sick," She suggested, though to Thomas it sounded like a demand. Shaking it off, he walked to the lounge as quickly as he could.
It was a bright room, full of children and teenagers and even the odd adult. No one noticed his entrance, but everyone turned when he pulled the snack cart out of the closet.
"Thomas!" A taller boy with an English accent greeted him. Thomas smiled. The boy had been there a long time, and yet no one knew his real name. He'd insisted, since he was young, to be called Newt.
"Hello Newt. Time for snack," Thomas said.
"'Bout bloody time the box got here," Newt said, eying the cakes and pastries lined up on the cart.
"Move! This is my cart! I'm the cook! I made all of this with my own hands!" Another boy, who went by Frypan, ranted at Thomas. He shooed him away and began handing out the confections to the other patients. Thomas didn't mind, it just meant less work for him. Though he did make note that Fry still seemed to be having delusions that he was the maker of every morsel of food in the institution.
As the patients got their food, Thomas pulled out his notepad. It still looked like the room was divided into boys and girls. He had tried to diffuse the tension between the groups, but it was as if each side pretended the other didn't exist.
Dr. Paige had told him not to worry about it, and that eventually it would all fix itself. He sighed. Then there were the double doors that led to the medical bay. It was supposed to be always closed to the lounge, but Thomas often only found it locked at night. He made a note to ask Dr. Paige about it later.
His stomach growled. He looked to see that Frypan had finished handing out food and everyone was seated neatly on their respective sides. Thomas grabbed a snack cake from the cart, biting into it.
A feeling of bliss leaked into him. He didn't know how it was possible, but Dr. Paige always seemed capable of creating the most perfect foods. He took another bite, feeling slightly tingly, and even numb in some places.
He walked around the lounge.
Minho burst through the double doors, gasping and panting. The boy side of the room leaped up.
"I saw a griever!" Minho choked, breathing heavily. The boys all began to mutter excitedly. Thomas rubbed his temples. Dr. Paige had left the doors open again. And when she did, Thomas noticed that a few specific members of each gender group where always the ones to go inside. They acted almost as scouters, though often reporting odd tales about monsters made of metal needles.
The med-bay tools and surgical equipment, Thomas guessed.
As the boys reconciled, the girls went about their imaginary work, some even pretending to farm.
Thomas felt a pang of sympathy. He didn't have the keys to the medical bay, but he could at least go in and shoo any other patients out. He stepped through the crowds, into the medical bay.
"Hey! Greenie! Stop!" Newt yelled, along with his friend, Alby.
"You're not a runner!" Minho added.
Thomas smiled at them, hoping they would get better, and closed the doors behind him.
He rarely went inside this part of the institution, finding it slightly frightening. The lights never worked, flickering ominously, and he hated seeing the patients being operated on. Clint and Jeff were the only other employees that he knew of, although the institution was so massive that Thomas figured there must be more.
But even they tended to stay in the bay, preferring the company of their tools and injured patients, then that of other workers.
Thomas wandered through the hall, occasionally calling out random names. No one answered. Of course.
A sound caught his attention. He peeked through a door, and saw Dr. Paige standing over a patient.
It was a boy, Ben, and he was convulsing and screaming. A purplish rash spread from his exposed stomach, where a puncture mark was clear.
"Ben," Dr. Paige smiled, "You have been stung."
She was holding a needle behind her back, empty.
"Please leave the maze, the doors are about to close," She said. Ben stood up and burst through the door, barely missing Thomas. Thomas' heart thumped loudly. What had just happened?
He watched as Dr. Paige wrote something in her notepad.
'Prototype No. 10 - Physical failure : Mental success.'
Thomas gasped as she turned, seeming to look right at him. Thomas ducked down as quickly as he could. He heard her footsteps coming towards the door.
"Thomas? Is that you?" Dr. Paige called out. Thomas stifled a cry, crawling on his hands and knees. He hurried into another room, just as Dr. Paige exploded into the hallway, fully filled syringe in hand.
"Thomas?" She yelled.
Thomas clutched at his chest, hoping she wouldn't come into his room. He couldn't see anything, but was afraid to turn on the lights. After an eternity, her footfalls faded. Thomas breathed, carefully standing up. He switched on the flickering light and froze.
On the floor, was a girl about his age with short cropped hair. She looked up at him with a loopy smile.
"Bliss," she croaked, "Want to try some? Stops the Flare."
Thomas saw the vials of morphine scattered around her.
"You can't be in here," He stuttered.
"Try some Bliss. Stops the Flare."
Thomas stepped back into a shelf. He whirled around to see that it was full of trays. Thomas pulled one out, and stiffened. It was full of colorful pastries, all ready to be filled. Dread rose inside him.
All ready to be filled...but with what?
He looked back at the drugged girl, and saw the boxes labeled with nothing but various versions of pain-killers.
What was happening here? The door opened behind him.
Dr. Paige stepped inside.
"Hello Thomas."
"Dr. Paige!" He leaped backwards, still holding the incriminating tray of delights. "I was just trying to find the other patients that ran in here!"
"I know Thomas. You have nothing to worry about," She smiled. In one hand was a cherry tart.
"Try the food Thomas," She said, "You look sick."
"What are you doing to these people!" Thomas breathed. Dr. Paige chuckled humorlessly.
"Nothing. Just trying to find the perfect cure."
"For what?" Thomas asked, hoping he could keep her talking. A plan was beginning to formulate.
"For the flare, or, in our terms, normality. Can you picture how many new patients I would have if I was to help make humanity a little more...unstable? And get enough addicts," She gestured to the tart, then to the girl, "And you have an entire brigade of slaves. All made up of the ones that society shuns."
"You don't help people...you make things worse," Thomas muttered, hand sliding behind his back. He stepped backwards slightly, prompting Dr. Paige closer.
"Just like they once shunned me. Just like my parents once sent me here to be ogled by doctors and nurses who never let you play! The doctors are all gone now. Purged from existence. I'm the only one left. And soon I'll have many more friends. Too many for the world to ignore. Too many to tuck away into the dark places of the earth and forget about!"
"You don't need to do this!" Thomas shouted. His hands worked feverishly behind his back, trying to open the cardboard flaps.
"I just need to make my formula less...physically obvious, shall we say. And how would you fancy being the next subject?" She lunged closer, about to grab him.
Thomas bit his lip, the flaps opened. He grabbed a syringe, heavy with morphine, and hurled it at Dr. Paige. It stuck in her arm and she withdrew slightly.
Thomas didn't stop, filling her with more and more needles.
Her eyes glossed over. She plucked the first syringe out, inspecting it.
"Very impressive," She told Thomas, blocking the door. "But I overdosed myself already, long ago. It seems as if I've built up an immunity. Now, time for a little experiment."
She grabbed her own syringe, filled with a purple sludge, and injected it into his arm. Thomas felt saw the room blur and spin.
"No..." He slurred.
"You will be the greenie they all already think you are. There are grievers in the maze..." Dr. Paige spoke like a hypnotist. Thomas felt his mind absorbing her words, and pushing out everything else.
"Please..." He tried to say, but the words wouldn't form. He felt as if he were shooting upwards. Metallic clanking sounds ripped through his skull.
"You have been stung Thomas. Please leave the maze."
So there it is. Much longer than usual cause I don't know when I'll have free Internet again. Hope you enjoyed!
Wolf Out...