The Storm: Chapter Fifteen

My eyes searched the crowd. Desperate to find the one face I was looking for. Some were familiar, some were not. But finally my eyes came to rest upon the person I sought for most. My heart swelled when I made eye contact. The excitement couldn't be contained any much longer. I rushed down the stairs and crashed into him, wrapping my arms as tightly as I could around him so that I would never loose him again.

He kissed the top of my head.

We were reunited, finally. This time for a long time. I was to make sure of it.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean what I said back then," I blurted out to him. The remorse flooded over me. I had waited so long to tell him this. And relief followed soon after, the relief of being able to see him to tell him this. Newt looked healthy, his hair brushed to one side, his clothes cleaner, his smile brighter.

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have lashed out at you the way I did. I see that now." Newt flustered. "I thought you were going to die on that berg. The way that they dragged you in barely conscious. You were practically grey. What happened?"

I debated telling him everything. The whole complete story when Minho emerged and interrupted the moment. "Is that the ever-surprising Clarke I see?"

I drew back from Newt, untangling myself from his arms, and embraced Minho, my friend. "It's good to see you again friend."

"You tell me," he laughed. "The last time we saw you they were trying to get you to breathe again." Minho smiled then he leaned in closer and pulled me into another hug. "Which hasn't helped him. He's far grumpier than before. I dunno if it's because he wasn't allowed to see you, but something isn't right."

Minho released me and glanced past my shoulder, possibly watching Newt. "Anyways," he spoke louder, the grin returning. "I'm glad they've fixed you up. Nothing seems to want you dead." He slapped my hard on the shoulder and went to sit back down next to Frypan. I noticed that a hard glint in his eye, hinting that even though he acted happy, he too had been through an awful time. That he wasn't quite himself yet, just trying his hardest to act like it.

Weren't we all?

The others had joined me down the front of the auditorium. Maggie and Poe hanging back from the crowd, unsure on who to approach first. Maya, on the other hand, was determined to make new friends for herself. She took the free seat next to Minho and immediately started to talk to him. He was shocked at first at the sudden appearance of the girl, but he seemed to soften up to her when she casually started talking about topics that interested him. Bored me. I overheard my name a few times, but I chose to ignore the conversation. That did not interest me, I had other engagements.

"Come sit and tell me what happened." Newt guided me away from the bustle of the crowd at the front and led me to two empty seats on the second row. I sat down and noticed Poe and Maggie engaged in a light conversation with a few girls from the Group B. And far away, the very furthest corners sat Leo and Trixie, talking to no one. Not even themselves. Their faces grumpy and miserable.

What they deserve.

I turned to Newt, taking in his dark eyes. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"That's a pretty vague place to start," I retorted with a laugh.

He paused for a second. "Well, what was Group C like?"

"Dunno," I answered honestly. "WICKED wiped them memories from me before I entered the Glade. All I know is that I was second-in-command, and that I protected Eden."

"Really, protected how?"

"Ran the Maze, killed a few Grievers. You know runner stuff but extra cool."

Newt nodded his head taking in what I had said. "Makes sense," he determined after a few moments. "There was no way you could have survived the Maze without some innate knowledge. You already knew how."

"I suppose," I contemplated. "The muscle remembered, not me."

"So how'd you end up in our Maze if you were in another trial?" The ultimate question I was trying to answer myself.

"Newt, my memories are gone from the time before I met you. I have no idea."

"Right, right," Newt said. "Sorry."

"So you should be," I joked. Newt eyes her than smiles. This was not the Newt that Minho had described, a grumpy Newt. What was he referring too?

"What was it like being back with your original group and not remember them?" More questions.

I thought about my answer before I replied. "Weird, I guess. They knew who I was, knew me better than I did. Took a lot to get used too. But as time went on, I felt more …"

"At home with them," Newt finished, his smile fading.

"In a sense, but that doesn't mean I missed you. Every single day. Newt, I thought I would never see you again. When I did in the city, it gave me hope again."

Newt stared at the wall in front of him. "I thought you were dead. They never mentioned you before the Trials. We demanded to know if you were gone, but they glossed over that fact. Maybe we should have taken it as a sign that you weren't actually dead."

I sensed that something wasn't right with the way he suddenly went cold at the memory. Maybe this was what Minho had warned me about. The difference. The hints of anger in his voice the beginning.

"I'm here now. Don't dwell on things you cannot change."

He looked me in the eye and the anger disappeared. "You're right. I have you now and I'm not gonna to lose you again."

We held hands and sat in the moment quietly. The chatter of our friends surrounding us.

"Well I've been shucked and gone to heaven. It's Thomas." Minho's voice called out across the auditorium. The announcement was followed by hoots and cheers and catcalls. Not the same fanfare when I turned up. I sat up from my seat to see the figure of Thomas standing awkwardly in the doorway, his hand still gripping the handle. We briefly caught eyes before he continued searching round the room.

The raven-haired girl, Teresa, stood up from her chair at the end of the row to face him. They stood there staring at each other for a few seconds.

"We betta go say hi, we haven't seen him in weeks," Newt whispered. Unlike him to escape from the conversation. A moment ago he was dying to know everything that had happened. Something wasn't right. I followed after him, one not wanting to be far from him and two the last time I had seen Thomas was him running past me. I wanted to properly reunite with him.

Minho slapped him on the back and shook his hand, pulling the kid into the room. "Well at least you didn't bloody roll over and die, Tommy," Newt said as he went to shake his hand.

Minho had a smirk on his face. "The mighty Gladers, back together again. Good to see ya alive shuck face – I've imagined you dead in about a hundred different ways. I bet you cried every night, missing me."

"Yeah," Thomas muttered. He nodded at me then broke away from the reunion and made is way to Teresa.

Rude.

"What was that about?" I said, a little deflated that I didn't get the same welcome as the boys.

"Not sure, he doesn't look to thrilled to be here." Minho shrugged his shoulders and turned to talk to Newt. I ignored the conversation and instead watched Thomas who didn't seem to thrilled in speaking to Teresa.

"I tried, Tom. Every day I tried to talk to you. They cut us off, but I think it's all been worth it," I overheard Teresa say to him. She reached out and took his hand. Thomas quickly pulled his hand from her grasp, the tips of his ears flushing bright red.

Don't get involved.

Before I could decide what option to take, a man with long pointy features marched down the aisle clapping his hands loudly. "Everybody take a seat. We've got a few things to cover before we remove the swipe."

He had said it so casually, I hadn't quite caught it at first. The words then registered – remove the swipe – and I froze.

The room stilled. The man stepped up onto the stage at the front of the room and approached the lectern. He gripped the edges and gave the room a forced toothy smile. Then he spoke. "That's right, ladies and gents. You're about to get all your memories back. Every last one of them."

I was stunned, mind spinning. I sat myself down beside Newt, and in front of the other three. I didn't want to lose them as well.

For so long I had struggled with trying to remember my life, the memories from Group C, what had happened the moment before I woke up in the Glade, who my family was. The idea of having everything back was almost too much to comprehend. The more it sank in the more I realised maybe that wasn't what I wanted. Remembering everything from before didn't sound so good anymore. Even with the fragments of memories that I was able to muster, the past didn't look so great. Did I really want to know who I was before the Glade? Would it end in more heartache?

The man cleared his throat drawing me back to reality. "As you were informed, the Trials as you've known them are over. Once your memories are restored, I think you'll believe me and we can move on. You've all been briefed on the Flare and the reasons for the Trials. We are extremely close to completing our blueprint of the killzone. The things we need – to further refine what we have – will be better served by your full cooperation and unaltered minds. So, congratulations!"

"I ought to come up there and break your shuck nose," Minho said, his voice terrifyingly calm considering the threat in his words. "I'm sick of you acting like everything is peachy – like more than half of our friends didn't die."

"You let us kill each other," Maya added, her voice cutting through the silence. She rose, her finger pointing at the man. "You let everyone in our group kill each other for sport for the Trials. How do you expect me, us, to move on from that?"

The man didn't reply.

"Typical, nothing to say as usual," Maya hissed, she sat back down her arms crossed against her chest.

I turned to give her assurance when Newt snapped. "I'd love to see that rat nose smashed."

The anger in his voice startled me. The words, however, I agreed entirely with.

The man rolled his eyes in response to Newt and sighed. "First of all, each of you have been warned of the consequences should you try to harm me. and rest assured, you're all still being watched. Second, I'm sorry for those you've lost – but in the end it'll have been worth it. What concerns me, though, is that it seems that nothing I say is going to wake you people up to the stakes here. We're talking about survival of the human race."

Maggie physically restrained Poe to his seat, he struggled for a moment but then stopped short when he reassured Maggie he wouldn't jump. The man looked in our direction, his eyes resting on our corner, then his eyebrow raising when his attention landed on me. The look he gave was, well, odd. For the most part of his act he gave off a I-don't-care persona. As soon as I was spotted, that changed. The expression on his face and the feeling inside of me.

Kill him.

"Let's all just slim it," Thomas spoke evenly. "Let's hear him out."

Frypan spoke up just as the man was about to continue. "Why should we trust you people to … what was it called? The swipe? After everything you've done to us, to our friends – you want to remove the swipe? I don' think so. I'd rather stay stupid about my past, thank you very kindly."

"WICKED is good," Teresa said out of the blue, as if talking to herself.

"What?" Frypan asked.

Everyone turned to her.

"WICKED is good," she repeated much louder, turning in her seat to meet the other's gaze. "Of all the things I could've written on my arm when I first woke up from my coma, I chose those three words. I keep thinking about it, and there has to be a reason. I say we just shut up and do what the man says. We can only understand this without memories back."

"How can you say that after everything that is happened," I heard my voice whisper across the silent auditorium. Her piercing eyes fell on me. "They tortured us in the Maze. Then when that wasn't enough sent us across the Scorch to die. How does that make WICKED good?"

The girl shifted in her seat, assessing what I had said to her. "WICKED has a plan. Whatever was happened was an unfortunate result of the greater good."

My mouth fell open. Stunned at the dismissiveness of her words. "How can you be so blind to all the cruelness? Do you even care that others died?"

She never returned an answer.

"Look, no one's going to blame you for the mistrust you feel," the man cut in before anymore could be said. "You've been pushed to your physical limits, watched people die, experienced terror in its purest form. But I promise you, when all is said and done, none of you will look back-"

"What if we don't want to?" Frypan called out. "What if we don't want our memories back?"

The man sighed. "Is it because you really have no interest in remembering, or is it because you don't trust us?"

"Oh, I can imagine why we wouldn't trust you," Frypan replied

"Don't you realise by now that if we wanted to do something to harm you, we'd just do it?" the man looked down at the lectern, then back up again. "If you don't want to remove the swipe, don't do it. You can stand by and watch the others."

There was a moment where I wasn't even sure if the man was bluffing or serious? The tone hard to distinguish from annoyance to genuine sincerity.

Again the room was silent, and before anyone else could speak, the man had stepped away off the stage and was walking toward the door at the back of the room. When he reached it, he turned to face them again. "You really want to spend the rest of your lives having no memory of your parents? Your family and friends? You really want to lose the chance to hold on to at least the few good memories you may have had before all this began? Fine with me. But you might never have this opportunity again."

I considered the decision again. I wanted to remember everything about myself to the very last detail. But could WICKED be trusted? I didn't want to fall into another trap. I'd fight anyone that would tinker with my brain again. Were the memories worth the risk?

I watched as the man opened the door and left the room. As soon as he was gone, Maya immediately leaned in and announced "I'm not doing it. No way am I letting the near my head."

"I second that, I'd rather have the ones I've got then let them near me." Poe affirmed.

I faltered. Questioned the very choices I had laid in front of me. Then answered them. "I don't want them either. They messed enough with my head."

It was enough. They accepted the answer without any further hesitance.

Before I could hear Maggie's response Newt had taken my hand and squished it tight. He leaned in close and whispered, "what's your decision?"

"No," I readily told him. There was something about the way his eyes looked overshadowed, as if there was a darkness hidden beneath them. I heeded what Minho had warned and hadn't wasted time in telling him. Whatever Minho and the others had witnessed with him, I weren't sure if I was ready to see it let alone antagonise it.

"Good." He stood up and made his way over to where Thomas and Minho were. I followed close behind, glancing over my shoulder to see Poe and Maya following with Maggie trailing behind. She looked lost, her head sunken, fingers playing with one another. That didn't look right.

She wasn't the only one. It seemed there were others just as lost as her. The decision taking a mighty toll.

Thomas took hold of the handle and swung the door open to find the man waiting outside. A clipboard in his grasp, a bored expression creasing his face. He clicked his fingers and quickly led us down several turns of windowless hallway until they finally reached a large steel door. It was heavily bolted and looked to be sealed against outside air. Our white-clad leader placed a key card next to a square break in the steel, and after a few clicks, the large slab of metal slid open with a grinding sound that reminded me of the large doors in the Glade.

Then there was another door. Once the group filed into a small vestibule, the man closed the first door and, with the same card, unlocked the second. On the other side was a big room that looked like nothing special – same tile floors and beige walls as the hallways. Lots of cabinets and counters. And several beds lined the back wall, each with a menacing, foreign-looking contraption of shiny metal and plastic tubes in the shade of a mask hanging over it. I couldn't imagine letting someone place that thing on my face.

The man gestured toward the beds. "This is how we're going to remove the swipe from your brains," he announced. "Don't worry, in know these devices look frightening, but the procedure won't hurt nearly as much as you think."

"Nearly as much?" Frypan repeated. "I don't like the sound of that. so it does hurt, is what you're really saying."

"Of course you'll experience minor discomfort – it is surgery," the man said as he walked over to a large machine to the left of the beds. It had dozens of blinking lights and buttons and screens. "We'll be removing a small device from the part of your brain devoted to long-term memory. But it's not as bad as it might sound, I promise." He started pressing buttons and a buzzing hum filled the room.

"Wait a second," Teresa said. "Is this going to take away whatever's in there that lets you control us too? And what about…" she faltered, glanced at Thomas. She quickly recovered then continued. "Is everything going to be out of there? Everything?"

The man nodded. "Everything except the tiny device that allows us to map your killzone patterns. And you didn't have to say what you're thinking because I can see it in your eyes—no, you and Thomas and Rachel won't be able to do your little trick anymore. We did turn it off temporarily, but now it'll be gone forever. However, you'll have your long-term memory restored, and we won't be able to manipulate your minds. It's a package deal, I'm afraid. Take it or leave it."

The others in the room shuffled about, whispered questions to each other. A million things had to be flying through everyone's heads. There was so much to think about; there were so many implications. So many reasons to be angry at WICKED. But the fight seemed to have drained from the group, replaced by an eagerness to get it all over with.

"That's a no-brainer," Frypan said. "Get it? No-brainer?" The only response he got was a groan or two.

"Okay, I think we're just about ready," the man announced. "One last thing, though. Something I need to tell you before you regain your memories. It'll be better to hear it from me than to ... remember the testing."

"What're you talking about?" Maya asked.

The man clasped his hands behind his back, his expression suddenly grave. "Some of you are immune to the Flare. But ... some of you aren't. I'm going to go through the list—please do your best to take it calmly."