The Storm: Chapter Sixteen
The room lapsed in silence, broken only by the hum of machinery and a very faint beeping sound.
"For an experiment to provide accurate results," the man explained, "one needs a control group. We did our best to keep the virus from you as long as possible. But its airborne and highly contagious."
He paused taking in everyone's gazes.
"Just bloody get on with it," Newt snapped. "We all figured we had the friggin' disease anyway. You're not breaking our hearts."
"Yeah," blonde girl from Group A that reminded her of Newt. "Cut the drama and tell us already."
The man cleared his throat. "Okay, then. Most of you are immune and have helped us gather invaluable data. Only two of you are considered Candidates now, but we'll go into that later. Let's get to the list. The following people that are not immune. Jackson. Abigail. Miyoko. Newt…"
A jolt shot through my body, taking all sense with it. The noise in the room faded, leaving behind a dull buzzing that sent a dizzying pain into epicentre of my head. The man continued to rattle the names but they were a distant sound. That one name shook everything inside of me. Why, of all people, did he have to have it?
He must have sensed the change as he squeezed my hand, in reassurance, I wasn't sure.
From his other side, Thomas was taking the news just as badly as I was. Newt whispered a sharp, 'slim yourself' to the Glader which earned him a blank stare back from the crouched boy. The corners of Newt's lips curved upwards, but it seemed this wasn't enough. Thomas straightened his back and faced Newt. "Slim myself? That old shank just said you're not immune to the Flare. How can you-"
"I'm not worried about the bloody flare. I never thought I'd still be alive at this buggin' point."
Thomas forced a smile on his face to replicate's Newt's. "If you're cool with slowly going crazy and wanting to eat small children, then I guess we won't cry for you."
"Good that," Newt responded;
"…and finally Clarke," the rat man finished.
That caught my attention. I sinking feeling in my stomach formed this time. There was a difference in knowing someone else had it, then being told you do. Whole different ball game. People always want to reassure those that have been placed into misfortune. But when it comes to them, myself, why has the world so badly wronged me? Why had I been punished, and others not? What had I done to deserve this?
"Clarke," Maya whispered beside me. "Are you alright?"
I didn't know how to respond to her. Cause I wasn't alright, that was a stupid question. But I didn't have the choice to act out. Then they would see how crazy I was. Why do people always ask stupid questions.
I sharply took my hand back from Newt and picked at the side of one of my nails. Why do people as the most heartless questions.
"It is what it is," I replied, not caring about the tone I gave. I shrugged my shoulders and stared at a piece of the wall behind the man's head.
She deserved it. Why ask a stupid question?
"I wanted to get that out of the way," the man said. "Mainly so I could tell you myself and remind you that the whole point of this operation has been to build a cure. The trials required your participation. Most of you not immune are in the early stages of the Flare. And I have every confidence that you'll be taken care of before it goes too far. Except for one of you. Unfortunately your results have come out a little different from the rest. I won't say who to not shame the individual, but I want to let them know not to worry and that we are doing everything in our power to accommodate this."
The man caught my eye before addressing the crowd again. No one else had noticed it, the little indiscretion in emotion. The way he almost flinched at my gaze. Had he given away who the individual was? Dr. Adlai had mentioned that there was another girl that was showing signs of a mutated strain. Diana.
"And what if you don't figure things out?" Minho challenged.
The man ignored him. He walked over to the closet bed, then reached up and put a hand on the odd metallic device hanging from the ceiling. "This is something we're very proud of here – a feat of scientific and medical engineering. It's called a retractor, and it will be preforming this procedure. It'll be placed on your face – and I promise you'll still look as pretty when everything is done. Small wires within the device will descend and enter your ear canals. From there they will remove the machinery in your brain. Our doctors and nurses will give you a sedative to calm your nerves and something to dull the discomfort."
He paused to glance round the room. "You will fall into a trancelike state as the nerves repair themselves and your memories return, similar to what some of you went through during what you called the Changing back in the Maze. But not nearly as bad, I promise. Much of that was for the purpose of stimulating brain patterns. We have several more rooms like this one, and a whole team of doctors waiting to get started. Now, I'm sure you have a million questions, but most of them will be answered by our own memories, so I'm going to wait until after the procedure for any more q and a."
The man paused, then finished, "Give me just a few more moments to make sure the medical teams are ready. You can take this time to make your decisions."
He crossed the room, the swish-swishing of his white pants the only sound cutting the silence, and disappeared through the first steel door, closing it behind him. Then the room erupted with noise as everyone started talking at once.
I faced my friends behind me.
"I don't trust them," Maya stated. She crossed her arms and nodded towards where the man had disappeared too. "He gives me the creeps, and what they have done I don't know if this real or not. What if it is another test and if we pick wrong–"
"Maya, enough." Maggie cut in, stopping her rant. "Stop and think. This may not be a test. What point to they have to prove?"
"I dunno," Maya exasperated loudly with a throw of her hands in the air. "What has been the point of all of this in the first place?"
"The man already told you that, to help cure people of the Flare," Maggie hissed, glancing over her shoulder at Maya's raised voice. "To help you know."
There was a pregnant pause. We knew what she meant. Maya and Maggie involuntarily stared in my direction then looked away in embarrassment.
"Grow up," I snapped. "I have the Flare, big whoop. Don't know how I'm the reason why you can't make a decision about yourself. Just make your decision and move on."
Maya's eyes widened. "I … okay well …" she stammered. She pulled on one of her curls then coughed. "Well, okay … I'm not doing it. That's what I want to say."
"Okay," I said. "Poe?"
He shook his head.
"Fine." I turned to Maggie who had her back to me. "Maggie?"
She didn't respond. Not at first. Her shoulders were hunched over, her head lowered. "Maggie?" I asked again with less snappiness in it this time.
"Like I said, they want to find a cure and …" she trailed off.
"What? And what?" Maya cut in.
Maggie faced her, a glint in her eyes. "And I want to remember my family. I want to remember where I come from, where I belong, all the things that are missing from my head. Don't you?"
"But you belong with us. We're your family. You don't need memories to know that. Aren't I enough for you?" Maya's bottom lip trembled, a single tear dropping across her reddening cheeks. She tightened her arms around herself and stepped back from Maggie.
"No, I didn't mean it like that." Maggie attempted to move closer, but Maya only darted behind myself and Poe, turning away from her. Maggie searched for help in our faces, but I didn't know what to give.
Selfish decisions get selfish actions.
I turned away from Maggie and consoled Maya instead. That was the statement in itself. The right one, well that was a question that would never be answered.
I wrapped my arms around Maya shoulders, who was quietly sniffling to herself.
"How can she have so much faith in WICKED after everything they have done to us?" she whispered. "Am I not enough?"
The man returned before anymore could be said. I would have to wait if I wanted to her what the Gladers had decided.
More people followed the man from behind, filling up an already crowded room. Everyone that joined was dressed in a one-piece, somewhat loose-fitting green suit with WICKED written across the chest.
Each doctor (I assumed they were the doctors) took a place next to one of the beds. They fidgeted with the masks that hung from the ceiling, adjusting the tubes, tinkering with knobs and switches I couldn't see.
"We've already assigned each of you a bed," the man said as he flicked through the pages on his clipboard. "Those staying in this room are…" he rattled off a few names, mostly from the girl group, none of the Gladers or from mine. "If I didn't call your name, please follow me."
The whole situation was bizarre. After the formal take that had happened moments earlier. This now felt to … casual. We followed the man out of the room, down a long windowless corridor before stopping at another door. Our guide read from the list again. Poe and Newt were included this time.
"I'm not doing it," Newt announced. "You said we could choose and that's my bloody choice."
"That's fine," the man replied. "You'll change your mind soon enough. Stay with me until we've finished distributing everyone else."
The man faced Poe, who was the only other person that had remained in the hall. "What's your decision?"
Poe shook his head.
The man sighed, "Fine same for you as well."
The man didn't call for Minho, Thomas, Maya, Maggie and myself until we were standing at the final door along with Teresa and the other girl that was with them on the Scorch. So far Newt and Poe had been the only ones to say no to the procedure.
"No thanks," Minho said when the man gestured for everyone to enter the room. "But I appreciate the invitation. You guys have a good time in there." He gave a mocking wave.
"I'm not doing it either," Thomas announced.
"Clarke and I aren't as well," Maya quickly announced after Thomas. I nodded in agreement to the man.
The man stared at us for a long time, his face unreadable.
"Everything alright there Mr. Rat Man," Minho asked, calling the man an unfavourable name.
"My name is assistant director Janson," he replied his voice low and strained, as if it was hard work to stay calm. "Learn to show respect to your elders."
"You quit treating people like animals and maybe I'll consider it," Minho sneered, "and why are you goggling Thomas?"
The man—Janson—finally turned his gaze to Minho. "Because there are many things to consider." He paused, stood straighter. "But very well. We said you could choose for yourselves, and we'll stand by that. Everyone come inside and we'll get things started with those willing to participate."
We were directed into the final room. The room looked exactly like the first one with seven beds, the hanging masks, all of it. The machine evidently ran everything was already humming and chirping. A person dressed in the same green clothes as the doctors in the first room stood next to each bed.
There was one person in the crowd that I recognised. A girl in green clothes that was far younger than the rest of her counterparts. Her brown hair tied up neatly into bun and her eyes brighter when I last saw her. It took a moment, but once that clean face was caked in dirt from the Scorch. Newt had mentioned that she was a crank. Strange to have a crank in a high-security 'medical' facility.
Then, the crank raced across the room and grabbed Thomas into a tight hug.
"Brenda, what are you doing here?" Janson yelled at her. "Get back to your post!"
"Brenda!" Janson practically screamed at her when she refused to listen to him.
Brenda released Thomas and sheepishly walked away back to her station. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I'm just glad to see that he made it through Phase Three. I forgot myself."
"We hardly have time for such things," Janson scolded her.
"I thought she was a Crank," I mumbled to Newt. He looked down at me and shrugs his shoulders. Clearly, he was just as clueless as I was.
"Right," Janson cuts over the silence. "So it looks like Teresa, Rachel and Maggie will be in these beds." He pointed to the first three beds. Teresa and Rachel stood no hesitation into standing by their beds. Maggie awkwardly followed behind them and stood by her assigned bed. She kept her eyes glued to the floor, twiddling her thumbs. Maya made no attempt to reach out to her.
Janson turned back to us. "You six rebels are being watched. Don't even think about trying anything. Armed guards are on their way as we speak."
"That's a bunch of klunk," Minho whispered to us when Janson's attention was focused on settling people on their beds. "I think we should take our chances, see what happens."
"I dunno," I said. "He seems serious to me."
"You having second thoughts," Minho accused his eyes glaring.
"We need to play it safe," I hissed back with annoyance. The sound of rushed footsteps coming from the hallway cut the exchange short.
Five men and three women burst into the room, all of them dressed in black, with gear strapped to their backs – ropes, tools, rows of boxes attached together around their chests. They were all holding some sort of bulky machinery. A sharp memory tugged at my brain of what they were, but the fogginess clouded in front. The devices shimmered with blue light – a clear tube in the middle was filled with shiny metallic cylinder that crackled and fizzed with electricity – and the guards were pointing them at straight their way.
"This is your fault," Newt snapped at me in a low harsh tone. "We waited to bloody long."
I narrowed my eyes at him. Directing the anger straight at him. Who did he think he was?
Thomas threw his arm up around Newt's chest to stop him from closing down. "They would have caught us out there anyway," Thomas answered quietly, his lips barely moving. "Just be patient."
I broke the stare from Newt and watched Janson walk over to stand beside the guards. He pointed at one of the weapons. "These are called launchers. These guards will not hesitate to fire them if any of you cause trouble. The weapons won't kill you, but trust me when I say that they'll give you the most uncomfortable five minutes of your life."
"What's going on?" Thomas asked. "You literally just told us we could make our own decisions. We the need for force."
"Because I don't trust you," Janson paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "We hoped you would do things voluntarily once your memoires were back. It would just make it easier. But I never said we don't still need you."
"What a surprise," Maya interjected. "You lied again."
"I haven't lied about a thing. You made your decision, now live with the consequences." Janson pointed at the door. "Guards, escort Thomas and the others to their rooms, where they can dwell on their mistakes until tomorrow morning's tests. Use whatever force is necessary.