Annie sat alone in the lab, sucking up blue liquid with a pipette and squirting it back out onto a glass slide. She covered it with a slip and then mounted it under the microscope and put her eye to the lens. No matter how many times she did it, it never got old, seeing into a world that could not be sensed with the natural eye. She adjusted the focus in and out until the scene shifted and organisms appeared, moving about in the liquid and absorbing each other to form new shapes.
"Interesting …" She muttered, adjusting the focus again.
Something sounded out in the hallway and she raised her head. A moment later the door slammed open, and a man entered, panting and wild-eyed.
"Antoinette, we need you."
She sighed and removed her goggles.
"What's up Dean?"
"Just come with me."
"I'm in the middle of something." She pointed at the microscope, and the papers strewn over the desk. "It can't wait?"
He shook his head emphatically. "Dr. Paige asked for you specifically."
She sighed again and pushed away from the desk and then put her white lab coat back on. Even as a legal adult, she found she couldn't say no to her mother.
Dean was looking at her urgently, so she quickly tided up her space and followed him out into the hallway, glancing over at him every once in awhile for some clue of what was going on.
He was about fifteen years older than her, but not much taller, and had dark hair and a permanent five o'clock shadow. She had caught him sleeping over in his office more than once, too tired from research to go home. She could relate. These days, exhaustion was all they knew.
She kept step beside him through the hallways, passing several doors and the cafeteria before they came to a stop outside the observation room.
She inhaled sharply. She never went in there, at least not on her own volition. It felt voyeuristic to watch the subjects adjust to their new lives in the maze, figuring out how to work together to find a way out. She knew one student, Thomas, loved to sit in there day after day, watching the others like a warped reality television show. She wasn't sure how he could stomach it.
Dean held the door open and tilted his head, inviting her to walk inside. She entered slowly and shivered. They had gotten a new system since she had last been in there. All the monitors were now high-definition, giving a crisp picture of various points around the Glade. Except, today, they were all focused on one area. One person.
A boy, not much younger than her, was lying on the ground, arms wrapped around a leg twisted at an unnatural angle.
Unable to help her curiosity, she walked closer to the monitors. Taking that as his cue, Dean zoomed in, and Annie could see that the boy was crying, and mouthing something over and over again.
"What is he saying?" She asked.
Dean pressed a button on the keyboard, and soon a voice came over the speakers.
It was clear as day and laced with a pain that went beyond the hurt leg.
"I hate you. I hate you!"
She took a step back, feeling as if he was speaking to her directly. Dean muted the feed, and she turned to him.
"What happened to him?" She asked.
"He jumped."
She snapped her head back to the monitor and then at Dean again. His tone was so nonchalant, she was sure she had misheard.
"He what?"
He nodded slowly, his face full of pity.
"Just a few minutes ago. He started climbing to the top. Psychs were keeping an eye on him, taking bets on how long it would take him to give up -,"
"Charming," she interrupted.
He nodded, and then shrugged, face falling.
"Then he just … let go."
Annie looked away from the screen, unable to keep watching the scene before her now that she knew the details.
"But why would he do that?" She asked. "They volunteered to be in there."
Dean shrugged again and leaned forward, putting his hands on the back of an empty office chair while he stared at the boy.
"Hell if I know. But he needs medicine – what do you think?"
She forced herself to look at the monitor again, just in time to see another boy arrive, darker skinned and older looking. He knelt down next to the blonde boy, and wrapped his arm around his back, pulling him up. He dragged him through the maze, each step making the hurt boy's face screw up in pain.
"Why did Dr. Paige want me to see this?" Annie asked. "Usually the others just tell us what they need."
"Dunno. All she said to tell you was that 'WICKED is good'."
Annie's brow furrowed. 'WICKED is good' had become code between her and her mother, a way to tell the other that what they were doing, even if it looked impossible or grotesque from the outside, was for the greater good. Something about this situation – about this boy – was intended for a greater purpose than she knew. But what that purpose was, she had no idea.
She shook her head and quickly thought through a list of things they might need.
"I'll put together supplies for a splint. Maybe some crutches? It looks like his head is bleeding – do you know what blood type he is, just in case?"
"Should say in his file. Here -," he handed her a thick manila folder. "She also pulled this for you."
"All right. I'll take a look through it. He'll need some pain meds too … Nexophan, I think. Should take the edge off."
Dean looked at the monitor and smirked. "Oh, the others will be able to take the edge off. Did you know one of them basically figured out how to make a still?"
Annie rolled her eyes. "They're sixteen-year-old boys. Of course they did."
She held the folder to her chest. "I'm going back to my office. Let me know if anything changes."
"Will do."
Annie left the observation room, only feeling the weight upon her lift once she was back out through the doors and under the familiar fluorescent lights. She went back to her office, trying to get the image of the boy out of her mind. He had looked so broken, both in body and spirit. And it was now up to her to put him back together.
"Okay," she said, opening the file once she was back at her desk. "Let's see about you … uh …"
Her eyes scanned the page and then found his name.
"Newt," she said. "Subject A5. The Glue. The Glue?" She looked up and wrinkled her nose. "What the hell does that mean?"
She continued to scan the papers, looking over his charts for any information that might be helpful. One thing caught her eye, a brief mention about a sister who was running similar tests in a separate group. But there was no information about her in his chart.
She sat back in her chair, slowly spinning back and forth as she tapped her pen on her chin.
"Why?" She finally asked the empty room.
What could have driven the poor boy to give up everything? His friends, his sister? And even worse why hadn't anyone intervened? Why hadn't her mother put a stop to it as soon as he started to climb the walls?
She closed the folder and set it aside. When her mother had agreed to let her work on the trials in addition to her usual lab work, she had warned her not to get attached to the subjects. Informed her they were there on their own accord, and that no matter what happened, there would be no interfering with the work to be done.
She opened the folder once more and looked down at the photo of the boy. There was still a light in his eyes the day it had been taken, and if she wasn't mistaken, a defiance just below the surface.
"I'm going to help you," she said suddenly. "I'm going to help all of you. To the bitter end."
XXXXX
Newt awoke with a headache, but shook it off as soon as he remembered what day it was. A new day, the day they had been waiting for. The day they would leave The Marilla and set off on their own boat, toward the island and to his friends.
He threw off his covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, stepping quickly across the room to change into pants and a long-sleeved shirt.
He looked in the mirror, studying the skin near his stitches. The veins were just as dark as the night before, but at least they had not become any worse. He would take Annie's advice and try not to think about it, try just to focus on the task before them. He had to keep calm, no stress. No thugs, no women past the gone, no car crashes, no fancy dinners. No late nights in the hallway with a pretty girl ...
He changed his clothes and pulled on his boots. Too excited to sit alone, he went into the hallway and knocked on Annie's door. A muffled voice called out to him, and he turned the handle.
"It's locked," he said.
He heard footsteps stomping across the floor, and then the door creaked open. Annie peered out at him with a scowl on her face, eyes bloodshot and hair pulled up in a tangled ponytail.
"What?"
He smiled and pushed past her, going into the bedroom while she turned around at the door and stared at him.
"Time to get ready!" He said cheerfully.
He grabbed her items from around the room, piling them up on the vanity in a disordered heap.
"And no protesting." He added when she groaned. "We're leaving today, whether I have to carry you onto The Timmy Too myself or not."
"Fine." She rubbed her eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed, stretching her arms up and yawning. "What do you need me to do?"
"Get your stuff packed up. I'll take it to the boat once you're done so we can leave after breakfast."
"Fine. Done." She put her hands to her temples, rubbing in small circles. "But can you leave now? You're so loud."
Instead of being insulted, he laughed at her. "Always a pleasure Williams." He went to the door and turned around. "Don't take long."
"Mhmm."
She watched as he left and closed the door behind him. She groaned and fell backward onto the bed. Her head was pounding from whatever she had drank the night before, and she hadn't slept well at all. Her dreams had been muddled, filled with music and dancing, and one nightmare she wished she could forget of Newt turning back into a crank.
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the image, and then stood up. She went across the hall to the bathroom and turned the shower on. She let it run for several minutes, filling the room with steam. Newt wanted her to hurry, but there was no way she was about to go to an island and play survivor without one final proper shower.
She stepped inside, turning the water even hotter, and opened a fresh bottle of shampoo. The scent of coconut and ginger filled the small space, and she closed her eyes as she lathered it in her hair, humming a song from last night.
A knock sounded on the door, and she jumped, pausing with her hands tangled in her hair.
"Who is it?"
"It's Newt. Can I come in?"
"I'm in the shower."
"I won't look."
"Uh … okay."
She heard the door open and through the frosted glass saw the shape of someone Newt-like enter, hand held over his eyes.
"I'm taking the stuff to the boat. Are you packed up?"
"No," she said, letting the water stream over her body and carry the suds down the drain. "It's been, like, five minutes. I haven't started yet."
"What? Why?"
"Because I wanted a shower Newt." She gave an exasperated sigh. "Can't you afford me one last luxury before I go live on an island Gilligan-style?"
"I don't know what that means," he said. "But hurry up."
"Right-o, Professor."
Once she saw him leave the bathroom she finished showering and then turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a soft towel around herself. She wiped the fog off the mirror and ran a comb through her hair, giving a half-smile at her reflection. Though she enjoyed annoying him, a part of her really was looking forward to leaving this place behind and going somewhere new. Somewhere permanent. It both thrilled and terrified her.
She went back to her room, moving quickly through the hallway in her towel lest someone see her, and closed the door behind her. She went to the vanity and put on undergarments, then pulled a pair of jeans out of the pile, slipping them on. She sorted through the rest of the items, settling on a t-shirt and a grey zip-up pullover, in case it was cold out on the water. She grabbed a belt from the bottom of the pile, but the movement knocked something off the table, followed by the sound of smashing glass.
"Shit!"
It was the framed photo of Marilla. Annie crouched down and began carefully sweeping the pieces of glass into a small mound before picking the other items back up. She hoped she wouldn't be in trouble - the frame looked like real silver - but despite everything she couldn't help her smile as she looked at the photo. Marilla appeared so carefree in it, giving a dazzling smile as she held a cigarette up to her mouth.
Annie picked up the backing, and then something else fell to the floor, silent this time. It was a piece of paper, folded in half. Her eyes creased as she picked it up, carefully unfolding it.
It was another black-and-white photo, this one of Clark. But unlike Marilla, he wasn't alone. In his arms was a baby, only about a year old, wearing a bucket hat and smiling at the camera. There was a hand-scribbled note on the bottom corner of the photo, written in black ink.
Clark and Timmy, Grauman's Chinese Theatre.
She frowned. She hadn't seen any children aboard. Perhaps it was just a friend of the family, or a nephew. She was about to put it back in the frame when she noticed the torn edge.
The photo wasn't whole.
She wondered where the other half was, and glanced around when her eyes stopped on the photo of Marilla in her right hand, and saw it too had a frayed edge. A chill ran down her back as her mind instinctively put things into place, solve a puzzle she had never meant to start.
With shaking hands, she put the two photos next to each other.
It was a perfect match.
Marilla hadn't been looking off camera, she had been looking at Clark – and Timmy.
"Darling, I want you to have this."
Annie's head shot up as Marilla came into the room. She was holding another garment bag and had the same dazzling smile on her face. She stopped when she saw Annie sitting on the floor, holding the two photos together.
She froze, smile fading.
"Oh, darling."
"There!" Newt said, putting the filter into place. He tried the engine, and it started up on the first go. He pumped a fist in the air, glad everything was going his way this morning.
He went back onto the deck, climbed down the ladder onto the dock, and jogged back toward The Marilla. All that was left was a quick farewell to the Montgomery's, and they could be off. He hoped Annie was packed. Even though she annoyed him, he really was looking forward to setting off with her and starting their next adventure.
His excitement lessened slightly, and he frowned once he was aboard The Marilla. Besides his general distaste for the boat and the people on it, it was also eerily quiet this morning. Usually Clark was prompt about serving breakfast at nine, but it was a quarter past and there was no one around.
He had hoped he could grab a bite to eat and maybe get a bag of food from them before they set off. Even perhaps a bottle of Clark's whiskey, to share with Thomas and the others. He thought Minho especially would enjoy it.
He shook off a strange feeling coming over him, and went below deck, grasping the railing as he took the steps two at a time. He went into Annie's room first and found it too was empty – and she still hadn't packed.
"Come on, Williams."
He groaned, and picked up her backpack, stuffing her clothes inside with no attempt at organization. He zipped it up and then grabbed his jacket off the back of the vanity chair and put it on. He was glad to be wearing it again; it felt familiar, like a tether to his past. Except it smelled like Annie now, sort of sweet and earthy. That scent had become familiar to him as well - a glimpse into his future.
He heard the door open behind him, and he was about to chide Annie for not packing when he saw someone rush in, their figure reflected in the vanity mirror.
It was Luann.
Usually immaculately put together for her unofficial position of jack-of-all-trades, she looked a mess, like she hadn't slept all night. He then remembered her dalliance with Clark and wondered if she had slept at all.
But he put the thought out of his mind when he saw her eyes. Something was bothering her, and he didn't think it was Clark. She shut the door behind herself; he could see her whole body trembling and his curiosity piqued.
"Hey Luann." He turned toward her fully. "You all right?"
She crossed the room quickly and stopped in front of him.
"We need to talk."
"Okay ..." He crossed his arms and tilted his head at her. "What's up?"
Her eyes darted between him and the closed door.
"You have to get out of here – right now. You and Annie. Go. Before it's too late."
He waved a hand out at her. "Whoa, slow down. We're about to leave. What's wrong?"
"You … you have no idea …"
His forehead creased as he looked at her. She was seriously spooked.
"Hey," he said in a more gentle tone. "Speak to me."
"It … it was this crazy plan they had …"
Her voice shook; she could barely get the words out.
"I didn't think they'd actually go through with it … you're supposed to leave today, I thought it would be too late, that they wouldn't try again, but …"
Newt put his hands on her shoulders, trying to steady her.
"Luann, what are you talking about?"
"Immune," she said, staring right into his eyes. "They need someone who is immune. That's the only way."
"The only way for what? Come on, spit it out Luann!"
"To replace … replace Timmy!"
Luann opened her mouth, and then her eyes widened as something loud rang out throughout the room. Newt put his hands to his ears, and then felt something warm and wet seeping into the front of his shirt as Luann sank forward, collapsing into him.
Behind her stood Marilla, arm raised, holding Annie's gun.
"Oh, this will be a mess, won't it darling?"