Chapter 5: Revelation

My new companions decided to set up camp near some rocks that were in the area that was furthest to my left. imposing. dark. Some very sharp. They crowned a small gorge that sheltered more stones, even sharper and more imposing, which seemed to be warning that death was imminent in that place. The boys didn't seem to care at all that those stones were dangerous or sharp, they just wanted to rest and have dinner.

I could hear how the leader ordered the boys to put some tablecloths on the stones and use them as tables; in addition to the occasional discussion, especially between that blond boy and the boy with Asian features himself as a result of who should preside over the table; I could also hear the dark-haired boy, to whom the crowd would not stop yelling: "Frypan, don't do it." The young man, who used to prepare the food, also asked for help to make a small mound of stones to light a fire to cook and heat the food. He had no idea what he was cooking, but the smoke from the campfire carried with it a delicious smell, an impressive mixture that made me ride in glory, since it had been a long time since I had smelled anything similar.

Inside my being the roar of the lion invaded me again, my stomach was reminding me that I had to eat something, that I couldn't take it anymore. I was really hungry. He thought he could devour anything in front of him, although it had been almost a week or so since he had eaten decently.

My state of health was quite terrible, since hunger had already made an appearance, sapping my energy, my ability to react and my entire perception of reality which, added to the scorching heat of the desert, became a deadly mixture for me, a kind of agony that tormented me every day and that had already played me the occasional trick. However, I was eager to be able to eat something, although I was dying of shame to go to the cook's pot to ask him to put some food on me. I know it's stupid, but the first thing that occurred to me was to put my hand on my abdomen. It still hurt, but intermittently but very sharp, as if a small nail was being driven into that area.

He was a little apart from the group, about ten or fifteen meters from the camp. Only. Sitting on the sand, curled up between my legs, which I held with my own arms while resting my head on my knees. I was still hungry, although the fact that I was embarrassed to go anywhere near one of those boys to give me something to eat still gnawed at me. A part of my biomechanical material, which served as human skin, began to fade. Suddenly the area of my right eye socket turned a brilliant metallic and electric blue and the scar, which ran from the far-right area of the eye and ran along my cheekbone to merge with my neck, also took on that brilliant bluish hue.

It was not the first time that this bluish tone invaded the right area of my face, however, I knew that it was something intrinsic to me. My cell tissue was not regenerating as it should, further increasing the differences between what I was and normal human beings. It really hurt a lot, but he was aware that there would come a day when he could no longer repress or force that situation. That was my true face. That was my true condition. The thin line that separated me from normal boys, like the group of people who had rescued me, was fading little by little, and more so when the scorching heat of the sun ate away at my interior, the energy that led to said regeneration.

I tried to cry. I couldn't. I wanted to scream. I had no strength. I tried to sob. It had no value. My entire existence had been based on repressing emotions, on not being able to develop my own thoughts and on following the instructions of my superiors, as if I were a puppet whose strings just had to be pulled. Only one thought crossed my mind: crying. Cry inconsolably, get all the shit out of me. Take off the heavy ballast of guilt, that ballast that deprived me of having my own identity. He thought and rethought about it: «My name, Elian, is the only thing that separates me between being a laboratory rat and having some human dignity, even if I have to bear the atrocities committed by me, as a flag.

"Hello… can I… uh… sit down?" said a soft but hesitant voice from behind me.

I immediately returned to my own being. One of the boys had come over to talk to me. Although they had given me a bit of freedom to recover from my injuries, they still had a deal pending with their leader, Minho, who I think was called that. I had to talk to them and tell them all the information I had about WICKED and everything that was happening in the world. I blinked twice and looked at the boy who was addressing me, who was on my right, and I replied:

"Huh? Oh, sure!" I stammered looking at him but inviting him to sit with me. Maybe now I just need a little company, to feel a little more humanized, engaging in conversation with someone.

"I don't quite understand what you're saying... but I can try to help you a bit," the boy said.

I only kept my eyes lost on the sandy ground, paying attention to the expositions that this mysterious boy was doing.

"It's funny that you say that…your classmates don't seem as willing to help me as you are," I replied directly.

"Believe me, you intrigue them too, a lot," the young man stammered again, still standing next to me.

"There's nothing special about me," I told the story of the conversation, clenching my right fist between rage and some grunts.

"There are many things about you that intrigue me a lot, and it seems that they do too," the young man said, looking at the camp, from which several bonfires emanated, with their respective lights and reddish, orange, and yellowish colors, as well as dark-colored smoke. and ash, in which the colors of the campfire were dimly reflected. Even if you don't believe me.

I also oriented my gaze towards the camp, then back to look at the boy. The faint reddish and orange color of the fire was gently deposited on his facial features, as if he were being caressed by pale hands, but very brightly colored.

"There's nothing intriguing about me, let alone special," I blurted out as I sighed, lowering my head, looking at the dark sandy ground. I have nothing of value to spend the time you are giving me.

"We all have things to learn from each other, as well as from ourselves, you know? the stranger murmured in a cheerful and complicit tone.

"If you say so..." I snorted, taking my right hand to the abdominal area, because I felt some discomfort from the injuries, but nothing serious.

"Well…" The boy proceeded to sit right in front of me, holding two plates of food, one in each hand. He gave me another friendly smile and offered me one of the plates. Here, I brought you something to eat. You must be hungry after all, right? said the boy holding one of the two plates with his right hand.

I nodded my thanks and stared at him as he held out my hand to take the plate, he had offered me. A sincere smile came out of me, pure as water, as if I were processing another act of humanity, a fine thread that I could cling to in order to give meaning to my empty and miserable life.

The fact of being different from the others, of not being a 100 percent human of not being able to think, feel or reason like the rest of the boys depressed me a lot. It was like a feeling of despair that was turning into a cylindrical well with tight circular walls and that was lengthening over time until it became an impregnable prison, an eternal prison built by my own being and the rejection that I felt with myself. same. Suddenly the boy gestured at me with his fingers, a snap to bring me back to myself.

"Boy! It's not the time to daydream now, you'll have time to sleep later" the unknown young man told me in a rather calm and pleasant tone while he laughed a few times. "Besides, your dinner is getting cold".

"Oh…yeah…sorry," I said, shaking my head several times and to the sides as my hands began to burn, although compared to fainting in the desert, that was nothing. The truth is that I am hungry.

I grabbed the spoon, put it on the plate, stirred the contents and took it out again, to try to swallow a meatball bathed in abundant sauce, which had peppers, onion and another ingredient that I couldn't appreciate. The piece of meat gave off a slight smoke, due to the heat of the plate, but I rushed to eat a bite of that succulent delicacy. He deluded me. I put the spoon in my mouth and an intense, stinging pain ran up and down my palate, as if a handful of wasps were stinging the entire area. I coughed a little from the intense heat it gave off. They were freshly made. I must have looked like an idiot, blowing again and wincing.

"Be careful, don't burn more than you already are," the boy outlined between laughs.

I tried to ignore his comment, but it was impossible. That boy really dazzled closeness and empathy, although mystery also surrounded him, the feeling that he had seen him before, although he could not distinguish his facial features very well, due to the shadow of darkness that embraced the entire landscape. I huffed and made sure to be more direct in trying to dig up some information:

"Why do you show so much interest in me?" I asked, intrigued, while buying time for dinner to cool down a bit. I mean, you don't know me at all, you don't even know my name," I concluded in a slightly haughtier tone, while I blew on the plate a little, more or less at the level of my chin.

"Well, there really is a reason, a bit absurd, but a reason nonetheless," the boy was saying as he halved the meatballs on his plate. You may be right that I show a lot of interest, but really, I hardly know these guys, which make up the group that now, it seems, we are both part of.

"I've deduced that too, I mean, I know I'm doomed to get along with you, but I'm intrigued that you have allocated your resources, water, food, medicines, and time to and for me," I said as I pricked a meatball and devoured it, how hungry I was.

The boy just watched as he ate, gulping down one meatball after another, leaving almost no room to chew. He seemed to enjoy watching me eat, even though I didn't pay him the slightest attention.

"I know you're hungry, but at least try to chew your food well, you won't choke," the young man stressed as he ate little by little.

The silence was only interrupted by the sound of both chewing, as well as when we swallowed. Also, when we drank water. It was too delicious to interrupt with banal words. It could have been five to six days since I ate anything halfway decent, not counting bars and various supplements.

I didn't stop shooting nervous glances at that boy. It seemed that he also returned them to me, as if the relationship between the two had become rare, once I finished dinner. He kept looking at me, strangely, smiling, but intriguing. That made me even more nervous because I didn't want a stranger trying to cloud my mind like that.

"Well, where were we going?" the boy asked as he pushed his plate aside and moved a little closer to me to talk more privately.

"This..." I tried to move a little away from his strange movements.

"Don't worry, what I don't want is for anyone to find out that I'm going to be talking to you, since Minho hasn't given us permission to do so. It seems that he wants you to know as little as possible so that he can support you a little more", he told me in a low voice. "Oh, and by the way, my name is Aris," he whispered into my ear, his right hand cupping the outside of my left ear.

I froze when I heard that name. I don't know if he was immune to the effects of the T virus or not, but it was clear that he must not be very sane. Aris, I said to myself. It couldn't be true. It was the same name that had been in my thoughts for several days, the same name of that specimen that WICKED created to test me. "What is really so special about you, Aris?" I asked myself again while he frowned and decided to answer him, cautiously, yes:

"Nice to meet you, Aris. My name is Elian," I snapped at the young man as I left my hand outstretched to finish the introductions.

"The pleasure is mine." He shook my hand. "Of course, I have already covered my daily quota of information that I can provide you, Elian. I don't think Minho will let me talk to you anymore until you fulfill your part of the bargain and tell them everything you know about WICKED, the tests and the Flare," he concluded with a slight yawn.

"You're right, it wouldn't be fair for me to try to find information behind the deal I made with this Minho guy," I said as he picked up my plate. Just one more thing before resting.

"Tell me".

"Why do you show so much attachment to me?" I asked looking at the ground.

"I don't understand what you mean," he replied, Aris, annoyed.

"Why do you care so much? That is, it is a question that you had left halfway. Besides, I don't see the logic that you're spending this time with me but with your groupmates," I said, looking up and looking at the boy, who could be distinguished between the rattling and the reflection of the light from the fire flames of the camp of the guys.

"As I told you previously, Elian, I barely know any member of Group A of the Maze. I've only been with them a few days, and each time more distant" the boy said in a slightly off tone and with some anger. "I understand that they've lost his friend, but at least they could show some interest in, I don't know, getting to know me a bit," Aris snorted, her voice a little more subdued than at first.

"I understand," I murmured, looking at the ground, again.

"I'm sorry if I sounded too rude, but I saw the opportunity to get to know someone, to establish a fine bond of friendship, or, at least, to try, and that's why I approached you," the boy concluded as he stood up and held out his hand to help me.

"It's hard to trust someone these days," I snapped as he grabbed his right hand with my left to lift me up with his help.

"Not if you know how and with whom," he replied.

"You should never trust anyone one hundred percent," I sighed, looking at the sky, which was perceived as clear by the numerous stars that danced and decorated the firmament with their faint and unattainable sparkles. "I say this from experience".

Apparently that last sentence made Aris reflect a bit, because he tried to give me a small reply, but he ended up stammering, under his breath, something that I couldn't perceive or understand very well. He remained thoughtful for a few seconds, in a rarefied atmosphere, with a slight breeze, which blew from the east, caressing the fine hair on our heads as if our mother were touching us with her hand. After a few seconds of reflection, Aris decided to answer something:

"Maybe you're right, but trust is built and cemented together with the other person, where everyone does their part, without belittlement, lies or betrayal. Furthermore, even agreeing with your postulate, if trust did not exist, humanity would already have ended up being extinguished" he finished enthusiastically and clenching his fists to mark a greater momentum.

"Maybe if..." I couldn't finish the sentence because a slight yawn took over my being for a few seconds, also causing Aris to catch it.

"I don't want to sound disinterested, but I think we should go get some rest, don't you? Tomorrow, we must continue walking towards the mountains," said the boy while he yawned a little more, trying to hide it by covering his mouth with his hand, at the same time that he was preparing to return to the camp, first bending down to pick up his empty plate of food.

"Yeah. That has been selfless. Although, it's different from not being interested in you," I said as he bent down, too, to pick up the plate.

"You're always so serious?"

"It depends," I replied.

"About what?" Aris asked me again while he continued his march.

"Of the day," I answered again dryly and emphatically.

"That's why… at night you don't have lights, right?" The boy said with a slight laugh.

"That's the worst attempted joke I've ever heard." Please don't do it again," I replied sarcastically.

We both reached the common area of the camp, where three boys were waiting. The one in the middle was Minho, but of the other two he barely remembered anything. Neither the blond, to the left of him, nor the dark-haired boy, to the right of him. They seemed to be debating some kind of strategy for continuing the march in the morning. They were really conversations that I didn't quite capture very well, although I don't think they were talking about fallacious and vulgar things.

Upon arrival, the blond boy noticed our presence and broke that kind of triangle, or circle, that he formed with the other two boys, to address us:

"Aris, Elian!" He said effusively, outlining a big smile. I hope you have used your break time well. He finished.

"Right, because we'll use a pair of legs to stand guard at night." An hour or an hour and a half," Minho pointed out.

"But Minho..." the blond rebuked the leader.

"Yes, Newt?" The Asian replied.

"Give the greenie a rest, he's broken and disoriented, I don't think…" Newt said, but I interrupted him in the middle of his argument.

"Do not worry, I'm fine. I have no problem standing guard at night," I said assertively. Newt, I want to help you and, also, I want to be useful in everything that is in my power as long as the energy and strength of the body allow it, I concluded.

"Now that's spirit," the other boy murmured jokingly.

"That from you surprises me, but you're right, Thomas," Minho stammered.

I glared at them, letting out a few small grunts of disapproval. Newt also did the same and intervened:

"I think we should all go rest; besides, I don't think there's anyone for many miles around, but if Elian and Minho are uneasy, we can post guards," he gushed as he stared at me. If you don't want to stand guard, Elian, don't worry, I can fill in for you," he concluded.

"Thanks Newt, but you better rest." I nodded and smiled at the blond boy.

"Well, slintheads, do what you want, but remember that we leave first thing in the morning tomorrow." Good night," Minho said as he walked away.

Newt and Aris said their goodbyes as well, as did Thomas, after Minho of course. The night had been a long time since he had embraced us. It loomed over us like a predator over his prey. The wind was blowing and the sand, which moved next to it, caressed both my hands and my face. I relaxed a lot, in that moment. I walked towards a large dune while the wind whistled prominently. It was quite hot despite being at night. I walked on the sand to the top of the dune, which could have been several meters high, although the ground could not be seen from the opposite side from which I had climbed.

I sat on the sand to watch how time passed. Second to second. Minute by minute. Hour by hour. I really wanted to spend some time alone, reflecting, understanding, discussing with myself. I wanted to try to get a consensus to define a position on what to do when the time was right. I thought, and thought about it a lot, about looking for formulas to try to find out what time it was, because not having that perception of the passage of time made me super nervous.

Far from sleep conquering me, I had yawned a couple of times, trying not to think about what time it was. Probably between two and three in the morning, but that he could only half guess.

I put aside those absurd theories about the notion of time and began to discern the differences that I had felt with Aris and with the group, once gathered to say goodbye and go to sleep. The ability they had to trust each other was eating away at me, because I really wanted to, but I couldn't. Echoes from my past prevented me from allowing trust to flourish without getting anything in return, knowing full well that everyone is prone to betraying their friends.

I knew, and felt, that no one in this world was prepared to accept people like me. Some kind of laboratory creation, a boy who needed implants and robotic prosthetics to stay alive. I was beginning to feel a kind of rejection of my synthetic self. To my other half. To my own being. The conflict that was blooming inside me was making me much more vulnerable to the creation and feeling of new and unknown feelings for me.

While I was reflecting, I kept making mountains of sand between my legs. I had my eyes lost in the fall of the sand at the same time that many thoughts and emotions were overlapping in my head, like the leaves when they fall in autumn.

I grabbed a handful of sand with my right hand. It was hot, but not hot enough to burn my palm. The fine grains of sand slipped between my open fingers. I witnessed how the soft sand was falling. I liked him. It made me feel good. It was constantly flowing. While the sand fell, my head reflected the occasional memory of the Umbrella training camps:

A sinister-looking gentleman, with marked facial features, height of six feet three, a scarred nose, as well as cheekbones with the same scratches; Marked lips and sunglasses as black as darkness itself marked a robust man, with great muscles and a Slavic appearance. He imposed a lot of discipline with his height, his features, his physique and his marked military-style walk. I looked left and right and there were boys, about thirteen or fourteen years old, and we were all looking at this man, undaunted. There were four rows of about five guys, and I was in front of the middle row on the right.

"Well guys, I hope you all will be... witnesses of what is going to happen to one of your classmates today," said that man with an imposing tone. His voice was hoarse but strong, making all the hairs on my skin stand on end. I hope you all take note that no one, and I mean absolutely no one, can defy the Umbrella Corporation and walk away without consequences. It has become clear?! The man finished with a great shout.

That scream caused me to stand upright, disciplined, at the same time that I put my right foot on the ground. The same kick sounded from the entire platoon and a voice in unison:

"Yes, Mr. Wesker, we've made it clear!" We shouted dryly but obeying the order of the imposing man.

The man, named Wesker, stepped back, revealing a boy. There was a transparent glass right in front of us, about three or four meters from us. The boy was hanging in a kind of metal tube that gave off a blue aura in the lower and upper area of the tube. Both areas were a kind of cone without a point, from which emanated that kind of bluish cloud. His arms were tied above his head, and his feet too, both with a metal clamp, which caused him to be floating, in a kind of magnetized prison. The boy was half conscious. It seems that who had put him in that position, he wanted him to be able to witness what was going to happen to him.

Wesker stood behind the group, his arms crossed behind his back, his gaze fixed, or at least that indicated the direction of his face since his glasses did not allow him to see his eyes, in the glass.

Suddenly a burst of electricity began to sizzle over that boy. The purple electric arcs painted the entire room that color, in a light show. The boy could only scream from the pain caused by the electric splashes from those terrible arcs. His dying screams pierced our eardrums like stakes.

Some of the boys found themselves weighed down by such atrocity. Faces of anguish, cold and lost looks or general nervousness and channeled through the hands, invaded many of the companions. I, on the other hand, contemplated with a slight smile what was happening to that boy. She didn't feel one iota of pity, pity, fear, or pity for him. My emotions were not manifested, and nothing seemed to prevent me from enjoying that feeling.

A hand rested on my shoulder and whispered:

Elian, are you okay?

My train of thought faded. The sand kept slipping down my hand, as if time had barely passed. I clenched my fist tightly as anger took over me. I couldn't bear to have seen myself in the position of not feeling anything but satisfaction for seeing one of my companions suffer. I hated it so much, I felt as if my old self was licking its lips for seeing me suffer like that. That mirror with bleeding hands, in front of my being, murdering in cold blood. My breathing began to shake in an accelerated and choppy way, due to the stress I was under at that moment. I was having trouble breathing easily. I started coughing. A lot. My chest hurt terribly. I gripped my pectoral girdle tightly as I coughed and breathed hoarsely.

All the stress of resentment, linked to my breathing difficulties, caused me to try to get up from the ground, but I ended up falling on all fours in the sand. I wasn't coughing, but I could tell I was short of breath. I closed my eyes, and everything vanished:

"Calm down, Elian," a voice said, addressing me, a bit desperate and stressed.

I could only cough and feel that stinging choking so stressful. I clutched my chest again as I tried to ignore that voice that kept calling my name. Two other boys entered the scene, also shaken, but more willing to help than the first boy.

"Quick Gazzel, hand me the inhaler," a voice said to my right.

"Yeah, here Jay," Gazzel replied, tossing the inhaler to the boy.

Jay snatched up the device, then knelt beside me and tried to reassure me in a close, empathetic tone of voice.

"Calm down, friend, calm down," he said in a relaxed tone. Remember, breathe in and out. Slowly, relaxed and without stress. It's not the first time it's happened to you.

I tried to follow in his footsteps, but it was impossible for me to channel the tranquility. Stress and anguish took over, more and more, of me, translating into more coughing and more sensation of choking.

"Valir, Gazzel, help me get him up, little by little," Jay said calmly.

The three boys helped me up and managed to calm me down a bit. They helped me to sit on the floor and also to try to calm down and to follow the instructions that the dark-haired boy had asked me. Jay brought the inhaler closer and placed it in my right hand.

"Use it, you know how it works," the young man snapped.

I grabbed the inhaler, popped one end into my mouth, and pushed the button to breathe in the gas it released. That provoked an immense sea of hope and freedom. The drowning disappeared and I gradually recovered.

I opened my eyes after blinking and was back in the vastness of the desert, drowning. I remembered that I always carried that inhaler in one of my belt pockets, which, to my relief, was the only thing WICKED hadn't taken from me. I sat up slowly, remembering that kind of flashback where my teammates were helping me, and I searched all the pockets on my belt. While the hoarse breathing and the feeling of lack of air continued. With his left hand he squeezed my chest to try to relieve the brutal clamping I felt, it was as if a dagger had been inserted into me and was twisting it in my torso. I grabbed the damned inhaler and went through the procedure. Once I breathed with him everything calmed down again. The stress disappeared and I began to breathe again little by little.

I was still immersed in my internal crises, because, although I was better, my problems only increased. That situation was lifeless. The acute loneliness he was facing, the absence of emotions and the internal crisis added one more ally: a respiratory difficulty that, judging by these new memories, had been dragging on for a long time.

"Are you okay, Elian?" a voice spoke behind me, in a certain tone of concern.

My heart sank when I heard that voice, which I recognized perfectly. I felt naked in the face of adversity, vulnerable in the eyes of others, and useless in the face of my own problems.

"Tho…mas," I hesitated without looking at him.

I slowly rose to my feet, brushing the sand from my pants, tucking the inhaler into the front pockets of my belt, and trying to expose a false posture of calm and normality.

"I heard you cough, and I was very worried," said the worried boy.

"What are you doing here?" I answered curtly, looking lost in the immensity of the desert.

"Worrying about you. I've come to talk to you," he answered assertively.

I ignored his comment, trying to pretend I hadn't heard him.

"Don't turn a deaf ear, please," the boy pleaded. I only want to talk, as I have told you. From friend to friend.

Those words startled me again, causing me to turn around and stare into his eyes. My eyes had already become accustomed to the dark and allowed me to discern, a little, Thomas's features and his apparent concern on his face.

"It's too early to be awake," I commented, trying to divert the young man's attention.

"Absolutely!" he exclaimed.

"Huh?" I answered.

"Yeah. Minho's snoring woke me up," he commented as he glanced sideways at the camp.

I don't know how, but his comment managed to make me smile slightly. I tried to follow his path:

"Well, it seems I'm not the only one who's turned off by this Minho guy," I said sarcastically.

"Ha, ha, ha, you don't have a sense of humor," he replied between laughs.

"And that's why you came here for a walk?" To tell me how well you get along with Minho? - He exposed with a slight smile.

"Obviously not, I just have to tell you that, well, I've been dreaming about you for several days now. At least, it seems that they are fragments of some superimposed memories in my subconscious. It's also happened to me with Teresa and other people I can't meet and identify," Thomas commented to my astonishment.

"With me?" I answered with crossed arms and my face, and my brain adopted a more serious and concentrated posture.

"Minho doesn't like you one bit, but Newt and I want to give you the benefit of the doubt. I don't know why, but I'm intrigued by many things about you, and I know you know more than Minho might think, that's why I wanted to chat with you a bit, alone," the young man finished.

"I know some things. They're just vague memories from a past that I seem to have forgotten overnight," I said, turning my back on Thomas again. Although I have also had some flashes in the form of slight memories where you used to go out. I'll only tell what I know tomorrow, as I had agreed with that Minho guy," I finished in an aggressive tone.

I know and I am aware of it. But I'm not here to get that information out of you, because I just want to know one thing," he said as he walked to catch up with me and sit on the ground at the top of the silky, sandy dune, crossing his legs.

I followed his gesture and sat next to him, to the rhythm of an incredible feeling of peace and internal tingling.

"Tell me," I brandished defensively.

"Have we seen each other before?" he asked pointedly as he made circles in the sand with one of his fingers.

"Why do you want to know that?" I replied dryly.

"For making sure I can give you a chance."

"To betray me, as all the people who have passed by me have done. No, thanks. Trust is useless, and even more so if people like you prejudge people like me" I said between repudiating his comment, which caused a slight tone of anger and rage in my broken voice.

"What are you talking about?" I can't prejudge people I don't know. Just develop a thought to start with the first contact, nothing more than that -she stated firmly, fixing her gaze on me.

"No one has ever given me a single reason to trust him. That is just a mere fallacy to be able to take advantage of people. I have always gone free, in each mission, in each order and in each platoon that I have been a part of. People have been coming and going, and now I'm here and who knows where I'll be tomorrow," I said clenching my fists tightly against my legs.

"You're coming with us tomorrow," Thomas replied firmly.

"What are you saying?" I responded surprised as he returned his gaze.

"You give off a sincere gaze, Elian. Even if you are a prisoner of your past, as I am of mine, we cannot judge your being before appearing before us," the young man declared.

"I guess I still don't understand what you're getting at, Thomas," I replied.

"I've done horrible things too, Elian," Thomas enunciated as he stared into space and a tear ran down his face.

"I don't think it's worse than cold-blooded murder, Thomas, I…" I said as he watched the boy's tear. That pierced my heart and made me shudder for the first time since I had any use of my memory.

"I helped lock my friends in the Maze. I watched for years as they died, one after the other, all-in order to give something to WICKED, something that one man told us was for the common good. Little by little, my creation was killing them," Thomas murmured, causing each word he recited to become a stab into my very being. In spite of that they have welcomed me and helped me. Now I can call them 'friends' and blindly trust them, because I know they will always be by my side when we need each other," he finished between whimpers and some tears of desolation.

I was bordering on general collapse. He was about to experience the human sensation of forgiveness and redemption. Sadness and reconciliation. Your own confidence. It was really hard for me to trust these people, but they did want to help me and give me a chance.

"I… I don't know what it is to feel, Thomas. I had a fatal accident that left me paralyzed in a bed. Several shattered vertebrae, ribs, left leg and arm. Bruises, bumps, and brain contusions," I expounded in a broken, faltering voice.

Thomas turned his gaze towards me. Compassionately, mercifully. He wanted me to continue telling him things about me. He was building a bridge for me so he could trust me. He wiped away his tears and fixed his gaze on my eyes as I continued:

"Umbrella helped me, using robotic and synthetic implants. I became part of their "loyalty" program, that is, a re-education program that served to extract what was left of our humanity and turn us into mere machines, puppets managed at will. Stripped of feelings, emotions, reasoning and with an insatiable thirst for blood. Disciplined, obedient and effective. Thomas, I have killed unarmed civilians in cold blood. I'm a fucking monster. I concluded bluntly and on the verge of tears.

Thomas shuddered a lot after hearing my story. However, it didn't seem like it made him want to run or get away from me.

"Forgiveness is the greatest gesture of humanity possible. Although you can't be judged because it wasn't you who did it, it was them," said the young man.

"No Thomas, I've been complicit in it too." That doesn't change anything," I concluded emphatically.

"It changes everything," Thomas replied as he held out his hand.

I didn't know how to react to this closure of the conversation. I gave him my hand. It was very fast and not very instinctive. It was as if my heart wanted to follow Thomas and give him a chance.

"That doesn't mean I'm different from you, Thomas," I replied, trying to change the subject.

"That's funny," he said between chuckles. Because changing the subject like this, when you run out of arguments, is the most humane thing to do," he commented smilingly.

"Yeah, but my implants make…" I couldn't finish as Thomas cut me off.

"It doesn't change anything, Elian, put it in your head. You're just as human as me, or Newt or Minho, or anyone in the world. Now slim it and follow me".

I bowed my head and shook his hand.

We walked for several minutes without saying a word to each other. Everything became a cozy silence. We got to the camp and Thomas went to look for something in one of the sacks on the left. His companions were sleeping soundly on some blankets on the sand. It was a strange feeling for me.

"Here, take this blanket and let's go to sleep, I'm sure you need to rest," Thomas explained, throwing the blanket at me.

I caught it in the air and spread it out on the sand. I lay down on the still warm sand and looked up at the starry sky, letting the immensity of the firmament consume me into the deepest sleep, in one last breath that marked the end of that long and overwhelming day. I fell into the embrace of sleep.

The sudden morning heat was beginning to wreak havoc in the desert. I was still peacefully asleep, incomprehensibly. Not for much longer. I felt someone tapping me on the shoulder, saying my name.

"Elian, wake up," said a faint voice, which was lost in the depths of my head, as if it were a glow.

I was like knocked out. I felt lost and everything was spinning. It hadn't been my best night, although the bar wasn't very low either. I slowly opened my eyes as I covered myself with my right hand to block the sunbeams. He was curled up, in the middle of the blanket, with his knees bent, his back slightly hunched, and his legs crossed on his side. He noticed that it had a lot of sand on it, which could indicate that there had been a strong wind during the night. I closed my eyes again and laid my head down. The voice insisted more forcefully:

"Elian, we're leaving without you!" He replied intensely.

That caused me to get up slowly, rubbing my eyes and looking for the opposite side to the sun's rays, so they wouldn't bother me. I got up and sat cross-legged. I yawned and stretched out my arms exaggeratedly, then scratched my head and pinned my hair, parting it to the left, an inverted style.

"Good morning," I said while still somewhat groggy and sleepy.

"Good morning, greenie," replied the boy.

When I got used to the intense luminosity, both from the Sun and from the reflection of the light in the glittering sea of infinite sand, I could see that blond boy. He didn't recognize him, at first.

"Who are you?" I asked with intrigue, still not perceiving his features well.

"Have you forgotten about your companions so quickly, greenie?" He answered between laughs as he held out his hand to help me up. I'm Newt," he said, smiling.

"Sorry, Newt, I'm a little... dazed," I appealed crestfallen as he took his hand and pulled me up with his help.

"Don't worry, we are here to help you, because all of us who make up this group have had doubts. Maybe bigger than yours, but, after all, they are doubts," the blond boy said.

"Indeed, Newt, we all have doubts, what's more, we deserve to have them answered," said the Asian boy, who had appeared out of nowhere and had a small bag in his hand. Hang in there, greenie, it's for you. Good morning, firstly," he finished, throwing that little bag at me.

I caught the bag on the fly and opened it. Inside were a couple of pieces of bread, some cheese, and a cereal bar, as well as some water in a small bottle. After examining the groceries, I closed it and spoke to Minho:

"Thank you for letting me be with you and for sharing your resources with me," I murmured to the leader.

"Not at all, I guess." It's not because of me that you're going to continue with us, it's because of these two slintheads here, if you want to thank them," Minho was speaking as he pointed at Thomas and Newt. In addition to the fact that we have a deal, you and me, and that information is why you are going to come with us, whether you want to or not," the boy continued. Let's go, gladers, we have to continue, the mountains are a few kilometers away, we must not slack off now," he encouraged as he made a gesture to indicate the group to follow him, while he loaded a backpack on his back.

I took a piece of bread and some cheese and took a bite. The incredible taste of her transported me to heaven again, as if I were on a cloud. My satisfied face didn't go unnoticed by Newt, who seemed to be my mentor, since he hadn't left me all morning.

"He's good, isn't he?" The blond asked with a wide smile.

"Y-yes," I said between hesitations and a little nervous for showing that expression of satisfaction so much.

"You don't have to be ashamed of that, Elian," Newt replied between gentle laughs, "I bet you haven't eaten in days."

"I'm glad this boy appreciates my good taste in cooking," Frypan said as he made his way toward us.

"Don't get so high up, Frypan," Thomas said in the distance.

I turned to look at Newt to answer him, at the same time that he brushed my pants with his right hand:

"Yes, the truth is that it had been several days since I ate anything so substantial, and several months since I had tasted something decent. Lately I've been eating energy bars, some fruit and little else," I said as he chewed on a piece of bread.

"You seem like an honest person, honestly, I don't know why Minho distrusts you so much," Newt murmured.

"It's good, I'm not going to hold a grudge against him for that," I replied.

"And why is that?" He responded rhetorically.

"Trust is only the cornerstone of betrayal." It is ephemeral and fragile, and I do not believe in it. I've been stabbed enough because of that big lie," I snapped with some grunt.

"And yet, here you are, with unknown people, eating from the same plate and drinking from the same water," the blond finished, shooting me an aggressive look.

"That's on me," I said as he reached down to grab a backpack and some bags to carry, trying to avoid eye contact with Newt.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"That what I do is my business alone." I decide whether or not I risk trusting you. That's what I mean," I replied reluctantly.

"You know, that's not how things work here," Newt stated, standing up and claiming leadership in the face of the absent Minho, waving with his hands to signal me to tone it down.

"And I respect that, in fact, I'm not here to try to change anything," he replied as he began to walk and tried to avoid my discontent.

In that instant, Newt rushed to stand in front of me, putting his hand on my chest, frowning and showing signs of not being comfortable in this situation.

"Where do you think you're going?" He replied annoyed.

"To find Minho." I want to drop everything I have to say and go my own way, or does that not work like that either?

"I'm just trying to be nice to you, you shucking slinthead," Newt muttered angrily.

Those words resonated inside me with great force and intensity, causing me to stop and reflect on the actions that he was trying to impose in that place. I stared at the ground for several seconds before giving an answer:

"I'm sorry... you may be right," I said embarrassed.

"Listen, greenie, you don't have to try to do everything unilaterally. We have three rules, or at least we had them not long ago: the first is that we have no room for freeloaders and everyone has to do their part" he explained while raising the index finger of his right hand, "two", he raised the second finger, "the group does not work if there is no mutual trust, since all gladers are willing to give their lives for our companions, unconditionally; and three," he explained, showing the first three fingers of his hand extended, "no one ventures to go alone without telling anyone".

In the end, Newt and I talked for a long time. Somehow, the blond boy managed to reduce the tension of the moment and calm my nerves. I put myself in a more predisposed position, listening and trying to build and contribute something to the group that had saved my life and had welcomed me without knowing me at all.

After a few minutes of preparation, we were all ready to start walking, I still didn't know where these people were going. Thomas was chatting with Aris and Minho, glued to one of the sharp rocks of that kind of stony pool. I couldn't make out what they were talking about, so I tried to downplay that matter, if it wasn't for the fact that the Asian boy didn't let up in his efforts to follow me with his eyes. Minho got up and walked towards me:

"I hope, greenie, that you change your position a bit, because if you argue with Newt like that, without provoking or anything like that, I don't think you'll have a good future in the group," the leader explained as he patted me on the left shoulder. Now on your way," he finished as he trotted to take the lead of the group and start walking.

"I know, lately I've been too irascible, I don't know what's happening to me," I stammered, looking at the ground while wiping the sweat from my forehead.

Aris approached me and squatted down:

"Don't get depressed, Elian, just try to give us a chance, I assure you that we won't let you down," Aris said, looking into my eyes and resting his right hand on my shoulder.

About an hour and a half passed, approximately, since the group resumed its march. We walked under the scorching heat of the sun, which seemed to fall on our bodies like a slab impossible to bear. The immense sea of sand was lost on the horizon, where some mountains rose imposingly like great columns that supported the sky. Up to a point, the road didn't seem so hard. It seemed, of course. Until he began to glimpse a myriad of girders, rubble, and dilapidated buildings, behind the dunes. It was a terrifying sight. The group did not seem to be impressed by this first glimpse, from a distance, at the battered remains of the city.

"Well Elian, I think it's about time you told us everything you know about WICKED," Minho snapped without looking back.

"Depends on what you want to know," I replied.

The entire group started up the dune between gasps. I began to tell the story of how I had come to this desert and everything I knew, or what I was aware of WICKED and Umbrella.

"I know you don't trust me, Minho, but you also have no reason to trust WICKED either. It is an unscrupulous organization, which was born from the apocalypse to try to unify efforts around a cure. They developed their program long before the appearance of the T-Virus, or the Flare as you call it," I started to explain between gasps.

"We already know that, go on," Minho replied.

"The WICKED program is still far from obtaining a cure, although it is true that they have made very interesting progress, the cure is just a pharaonic dream of some politician who was succumbing to madness".

"That doesn't explain the origin or the mission of WICKED, it doesn't even clarify the reason that leads you to be among us," Frypan reproached me from behind.

"Besides, they have proposed to give us the Flare cure if we could pass the Burn tests," Thomas explained, wiping the sweat from his forehead and taking a drink from his water bag.

"As far as I know, and where I come from, the cure is owned by Umbrella, the true creators of the T virus," he stammered while I shuddered at the mention of those words, between gasps and with a slightly hoarse tone.

My stories caused many of the Gladers to begin murmuring and whispering to each other. Many were incredulous at my words and others refused to accept that no one wanted to extinguish all of humanity just for fun. Minho and Thomas also didn't seem to believe my story.

"That doesn't make sense," Newt replied, in the same tone he used to address me a few hours ago, when he was angry.

"As far as I know, yes. I am an 'employee of Umbrella'" I said making quotation marks with my fingers on both hands. "And I know some of the ins and outs of the corporation. They have a very corrupt modus to eliminate anyone who knows about the goings-on that they carried out in the Hive, in Racoon City in 1998. But this is just an unfounded rumor, very strong, but unconfirmed, because no one who has gone to Racoon City has come back alive to talk about it".

"So… WICKED is good? Just like Teresa said," Thomas said aloud.

"If what this slinthead is saying is true, yes," replied the leader.

"Even if you believe that, nothing is what it seems to be." WICKED also has a history of him conducting experiments on humans, as well as having seen both his money and Human Rights violations increase. They have also taken advantage of the situation to get a piece of the cake, even though that cake is doomed to collapse.

Minho froze and turned to look me in the eye.

"And why have they sent us to this place?" We're dead before we even get there, and we have no idea what we're going to find in those shucked mountains," Minho said as he pointed at me pointing at me and in a very angry tone.

"What those people did to you is none of my business, Minho, and I'm not responsible for Armageddon either. In fact, I'm just as 'shucked', as you like to say, like you, because that rabble has also put me in this fucking desert," I replied, frowning.

"So, if we don't burn to death in the Scorch, we'll be destroyed by the Flare, or the T-Virus, or whatever the hell this piece of klunk is called."

"I repeat that I am the same as all of you, equal to equal".

"Yeah, but you're a cyborg, you can handle this heat better than us," Aris murmured from my right.

I had an accident about three years ago. It's the only thing I can remember from my past life," I sighed. "I hate my robotic half, Aris. It's torture. Umbrella's training camps are a challenge that eats away at you from within. Morality, physique and conscience, as if a worm devoured a leaf little by little" I sighed again as I looked towards the desert sand.

"We all have to deal with the past in order to deal with the present and the future," Newt snapped, moving closer to show a little more warmth towards me.

"It'll be easy for you to say that Newt, but I seem to like having to hide this shucking scar on my face," I replied in a sad tone, revealing the blue scar, which only Aris had seen. I lost all mobility in my body, head down, my left arm and leg completely destroyed, various organs damaged, a head injury, as well as the loss of my right eye and part of my face disfigured. I had to be sedated for several months, and the operation had the cost of my soul, my being and my ability being sold, as payment, to Umbrella," he declared with a tearful tone.

"Elian… I'm sorry… I didn't mean…" Newt was trying to apologize as he limped over and put his hand on my shoulder.

I interrupted him, without looking at him:

I never had contact with the outside world again, and they turned me into a killing machine, without scruples, without reason and without being able to develop any emotion, beyond those that were allowed to me by the Corporation," he stated in a broken, hesitant, hurt voice. and clenching the fists of both hands very tightly. That's why I don't believe in trust, friendship or anything like that. The three years of life that I have had have been all from which I have been able to learn. I have no life beyond the accident. "Like us when we woke up in that Box with no memory of it," Thomas said hesitantly.

"I… lately I have a lot of nightmares. In my dreams, the image of an idealized life is projected to me, without disease, robotic prostheses and full of happiness. It always ends up clouding over, as if an intense fire was burning, the guilt. The burning guilt It's always the same. An image of myself killing innocent men, women and children in cold blood. Everything ends up preceding a pool of blood and my hands covered in that intense color. It has been tormenting me for several days, causing me confusion, irritation and constant tension," he hesitated as he continued walking.

A mute silence invaded the group, as if they were all trying to analyze all the information that he had suddenly released. Only the footsteps could be heard on the fine sand, they sounded like a dying person about to face his fate. The wind had picked up, enough to allow the sand to scratch our skin roughly. We all cover ourselves with some rags and other cloth, like scarves. I looked straight ahead and broke the silence again:

"The only thing left for me is to find a path to redemption, with myself. When WICKED removed the chip that drugged my brain, to inhibit my thoughts and my consciousness, I felt as if I had been released from a horrible prison," he stated firmly. I know that I am only the first generation of synthetic human beings, but I will not allow anyone to sentence the world just for having money, because if they have been using me, they can continue to do so once the pandemic ends and the cure is released," he continued exposing until a dark-haired boy interrupted me.

"But how can we be sure that what you tell us is true?" That is to say, you appear in the middle of the desert and say you are not the property of WICKED, they also send you to the Burn, we do not know if you are infected or not, you tell us something about a hive and that, to top it off, you are part of some kind of plan to supplant humanity with a generation of synthetic humans, the boy mused. I don't believe it," he finished, shaking his head.

"You are free to believe what you want, boy.

"I just say what I think, nothing more."

"Calm down Winston, we're all very confused right now, we should speed up our pace and get to the city to take shelter, eat and regain strength," Minho finished.

Get to the city and rest. The buildings began to look more imposing but surrounded by a ghostly aura. Neglected, old and in ruins, they end all the hopes that my companions had of being able to find people who could help us. I knew it, but I thought it appropriate not to say anything at all. This was the new world, chaos, devastation and misery. Nothing is further from reality.

We reached the first streets in about half an hour, which was about three more hours since we left camp in the morning. The sun was shining brightly, sweltering and scorching, as usual. It must have been in the central hours of the day. Nobody uttered a word, perhaps for fear of wasting energy and water in an absurd way.

My breathing became hoarse, it was evident that the weather was taking its toll on my respiratory system. I took out the inhaler again and took a couple puffs at the medication. It was horrible but necessary, but nothing as terrifying as what awaited us in that ghost town.