Chapter Text
You landed, and Dan and Hank were right there to make sure you had an easy landing. You thanked them, before taking a deep breath. "I'm the last one."
Thomas seemed a little stunned. "The rest?"
"Half of us," Newt answered, his voice weak. "Dead."
No one said a word, their heads hung. But your eyes darted around to find Minho's. He was staring right at you. And when you met his eyes, sending him a wobbly smile, he stood up a little taller. "You know what? Half might've died, but half of us shucking lived. And nobody got stung – just like Thomas thought. We've gotta get out of here."
Newt nodded. "Let's get out of here. Right now."
"Where do we go?" Minho asked.
Thomas pointed down the long tunnel. "I heard the door open down that way."
"Well – let's go," Minho answered. He turned and started walking up the tunnel without waiting for a response. You looked to Newt and he nodded, before ushering the other gladers to follow. You helped out, falling in the middle of the group. Even with flashlights held by some people, the black tunnel seemed to swallow everythign in darkness.
After a minute of walking, you heard a shriek up ahead, along with a few more. The group murmured with each other, and you soon heard about the slide up ahead, which went straight down.
You walked carefully, waiting for the person in front of you to go down the slide. He cheered as he went down. You sighed and went in after, your heart dropping at how steep it was, and involuntarily letting out a pretty loud shriek.
Everyones' screams filled up the slide as they slid down the chute. You couldn't help but imagine something terrible at the end of the slide. If it was there, Minho would be the first person to have to deal with it. That was terrifying.
Soon, a rotting smell took up the place, and you gagged, having to hold your hand up to your mouth. The tunnel began to twist, turning into a rough spiral, slowing you down. The spiral seemed to go on forever and ever, and a little part of you thought that you'd died and were now imagining something insane, but you eventually fell out, on top of a pile of other gladers. And even when you were about to get up, more came until Thomas was the final person to get out.
Everyone groaned and squirmed in confusion, getting up and pushing away from each other. Thomas, who crawled a few feet away, began to throw up, the smell just as nauseating as every other smell you'd come across.
You finally were able to get up and look around.
You were all in a huge underground chamber big enough to hold nine or ten homesteads. Everywhere, there were all kinds of machinery and wires and ducts and computers. On one side of the room there was a row of forty or so large white pods that looked like enormous coffins. Across from that were large glass doors, but you couldn't see what was on the other side.
"Look!" You heard Jack call out. You looked over and you felt goosebumps crawl up your skin. Directly in front of the group there was a row of twenty or so darkly tinged windows stretched across the compound horizontally, one after the other. Behind each one, a person sat observing the gladers, staring through the glass with squinted eyes.
They were all pale and thin, almost looking like ghosts.
It was the people you hated most in the world.
The Creators.
Everyone began to take a step backward, terrified at the sight. No one could take their eyes off of the people who had been watching them all the time for all this time. One of them looked down to write something and another reached up to put on a pair of glasses. They all worse black coats over white shirts, something stitched into the shirt.
They all looked so haunting and sad. Someone shook his head. Another nodded. Another reached up to scratch his nose.
"Who are those people?" Chuck whispered, his voice echoing through the chamber.
"The creators," Minho said, and suddenly he seemed to break out of the trance. He spat on the floor. "I'm gonna break your faces!" He screamed so loudly that many of the gladers flinched. But you didn't see movement from the creators.
"What do we do?" Thomas asked. "What are they waiting on?"
"They've probably revved the grievers back up," Newt said. "They're probably coming right–"
You didn't believe it, but when a loud and slow beeping sound cut him off, your heart dropped, thinking he was right.
"What now?!" Chuck asked, extremely worried.
Everyone turned to Thomas. Outside of the glade, you and Newt were of no help. Even Minho looked to him. No one could've possibly thought this far except for Thomas. Thomas craned his neck around, trying to look for something, and you realized he knew nothing.
You turned your head in the direction of the doors, which you noticed opening slowly. You called out for everyone to pay attention it it, and everyone tensed, waiting for something horrifying to come through. The beeping stopped and silence took over.
Painful silence, as no one dared breath.
The doors flew open, and you flinched. But all that came through were two people.
One was a woman. An adult.
She wore black pants and a button down white shirt with a logo over her breast - it said WICKED. She had short brown hair and a thin face with dark eyes. She walked towards the group, with virtually no expression. She acted like she didn't care about their presence in any way. She was so stiff and seemingly lifeless.
Minho, not too far from you, stepped forwards and pulled you back, behind him. You squeezed his arm, watching the other person, next to her, a boy with an oversized sweater, the hood pulled over his head and hiding his face.
The lady stopped several feet in front of the gladers and slowly looked left to right, taking them all in. You froze as you saw her look over you, and move on quickly. "Welcome back," she finally said. "Over three years, and so few dead. Amazing."
Now that had you all angry.
"Excuse me?" Newt asked.
Her eyes scanned the crowd again before falling on Newt. "Everything has gone according to plan, Mr.Newton. Although we expected a few more of you to give up along the way."
She glanced over to the boy beside her before reaching out and pulling the hood off of him. He looked up, his eyes wet with tears. Everyone in the room sucked in a breath of surprise. Your hand shot its way to cover your mouth.
Gally.
That was Gally.
Minho seemed to process it before you. "What's he doing here?!"
"You're safe now," the woman responded. "Please, be at ease."
"At ease?" Minho barked. "Who are you, telling us to be at ease? We wanna see the police, the mayor, the president– somebody!" You pulled back at his arm, trying to keep him from doing something irrational. You didn't add too much force, because you did want to see this lady get punched.
She narrowed her eyes at Minho. "You have no idea what you're talking about, boy. I'd expect more maturity from someone who's passed the Maze Trials." The condescending tone of her voice had your own feet moving forwards, but Newt elbowed Minho in the gut and you stopped.
"Gally," Newt said. "What's going on?"
Gally shook his head slightly. But he didn't say anything. His actions seemed sort of... robotic, to you.
The woman nodded, like she was proud of him. Like he was some dog, following orders. "One day, you'll all be grateful for what we've done for you. I can only promise this, and trust your minds to accept it. If you don't, then the whole thing was a mistake. Dark times, Mr.Newton. Dark times." She paused. "There is, of course, one final variable."
She stepped back. You focused on Gally. His body trembled, his face pasty white. His wet, red eyes stood out against the paleness. His lips pressed together but they twitched; it was like he was trying to speak but he couldn't get the words out.
"Somethings wrong," you muttered.
"Gally?" Thomas asked.
Words burst from him mouth. "They... can control me... I don't–" His eyes bulged and a hand went to his throat, as if he were choking. "I...have...to..." Each word came out with great struggle but then his body stilled, his face calming and his body relaxing.
You looked to the lady in horror, as she seemed satisfied with Gally's movements.
You didn't even see Gally reach behind himself, pulling a dagger. Before you could even process it, he reared back and threw it at Thomas. In the chaos, there was a shout and someone moved swiftly.
You could only watch in horror as Chuck dived in front of Thomas.
He fell with a sickening thunk. Chuck screamed, his body convulsing. Blood poured out alarmingly fast. His feet kicked out, like a child having a tantrum. Red spit oozed from his lips. You didn't know what to do while you watched this kid die before you.
Thomas fell to the ground, pulling Chuck's shaking body into his arms. "Chuck!" He screamed. "Chuck!"
Chuck shook uncontrollably, blood everywhere, wetting Thomas's hands. Chuck's eyes had rolled up in their sockets and blood trickled out of his nose and mouth. It was horrifying to him in such a state. "Chuck..." Thomas whispered out.
Chuck suddenly stopped, he stilled. You thought it was over, and your heart felt like it stilled as well. But Chuck was able to choke out a word, as his eyes slid back normally, focusing on Thomas. "Thom..mas."
"Hang on, Chuck," thomas choked out. "Don't die– fight it. Someone get help!"
Nobody moved. You squeezed your eyes shut, pained.
"Thomas," Chuck whispered. "Find... my mom." A racking cough burst from his lungs, throwing a spray of blood. "Tell her..." He didn't finish. His eyes closed and his body went limp. One last breath wheezed from his mouth.
Thomas stared at Chuck's lifeless body. It took a moment, but he let go and stood up trembling, facing the woman and Gally.
Thomas snapped.
He rushed forward, threw himself on Gally. You knew how Thomas felt, and you knew the others felt the same way, even if it wasn't as passionate as him. You pushed Newt and Minho ahead. "He couldn't control it," you whispered. "Stop Thomas."
As the two hurried over to pull him off, you went over to Chuck, falling to his side. His eyes hadn't closed fully. You used your thumb to make sure it did. Once Thomas was pulled away, he seemed to come back to his senses. He ran to Chuck's body and grabbed him, pulling him into his arms.
"No!" Thomas screamed out. "No!" Teresa came, putting her hand on his shoulder. Thomas shook it away and you could see the heartbreak in her eyes. "I promised him!" He screamed. "I promised I'd save him, take him home! I promised him!"
Teresa only nodded, her eyes cast to the ground.
Thomas hugged Chuck to his chest, squeezing him as tight as possible.
You stood up, stepping back, letting Thomas have his moment. Minho grabbed your hand when you'd neared him, holding onto it tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.
Once Thomas had calmed down, he stood up, and looked down at Chuck. Everyone looked down at Chuck, expressions hallow. There had been so much death in just a matter of hours. Much more than you'd ever been used to.
The woman spoke. "All things happen for a purpose. You must understand this."
Everyone's head turned to her, glaring. No one moved though.
A sudden series of shouts and commotion outside the entrance through where the woman had come was heard. You looked to the woman, expecting her to explain whatever this was, but she looked panicked.
You looked back to the door. Several men and women, dressed in grimy jeans and soaking wet coats burst through the entrance with guns raised, yelling and screaming words over each other. There were all different types of guns in their hands, and all of them looked rusty and old.
You didn't know what to do as two of the new people came and tackled the woman to the floor. Another stepped back and drew his gun, aiming it. You almost yelled, but it was interrupted by several shots. You all jumped back, and when you opened your eyes again, you saw the womans lifeless body, a bloody mess.
A man walked up to your group as the other people shot at the observation windows, shattering them. You looked in horror as these lifeless ghosts of people from people screamed in horror, blood splattering everywhere.
Minho tugged your hand, stepping forward slightly so he could cover most of the view. "We don't have time to explain," the man who'd come forward said, his voice strained. "Just follow me and run like your life depends on it. Because it does."
He turned, making motions towards his companions and then turned and ran through the big glass doors.
You didn't know if you could trust these people.
But as they yelled at you to run, amongst the gunfire and the panic, everyones legs started to move, and they rushed out, running far from the grievers and the maze and everything wicked related it seemed.
You and Minho let go of each others' hands but stayed close to each other. You all ran, being pushed forward by the encouragements shouted out by these random men and women who had forced you out, and could very much be taking you to your own deaths.
Finally reaching an exit, after many hallways and turns, you went through them and were met with a massive downpour of rain, falling from a black sky. You honestly would've enjoyed it, any other time. You hadn't felt rain in so long.
But the leader didn't stop moving until they reached a huge bus, the sides dented and scarred and the windows webbed with cracks. "Get on!" he yelled. "Hurry!"
Everyone packed up behind the door. Minho was the first to get on, and he grabbed your hand, pulling you forward above the steps. He went near the back of the bus, finding a seat and collapsing down. He scooted over, giving you some space. You fell onto the seat as well, your legs absolutely giving out.
He rested his head against the glass, watching the rain pour against it. Your head fell on his shoulder and he soon adjusted himself to lean his head ontop of yours. "S'too cold," he grumbled, closing his eyes.
"It's nice," you smiled. "I think I used to love the rain."
"Yeah?" He grinned, reaching out for your hand. "You liked running through it too?"
"Well, at least I don't have griever goo on me," you grumbled, making him chuckle. But he paused and you knew what he was thinking about. The blood washed away as well. Lots of blood. Both your own and others.
Across from your seat, Dan and Hank made their way to the back, also collapsing from their exhaustion. Hank was still able to look over at you both and grin, though. "Glad all the lovebirds are able to stick together."
Minho smirked at them. "Yeah, it's good for you guys, too." Hank rolled his eyes and glanced over at Dan, who had somehow, already fallen asleep. "Glad you're alive, though." Hank nodded, and agreed with Minho.
You closed your eyes. "I'm exhausted."
The both of you ignored every noise outside. The yells, the gunfire, the rain. All of it.
"Me too," he grumbled. "I don't know if I can sleep though."
You nodded, but you eyes began to close slowly. Minho smiled at your peaceful state, after the very long, terrifying ordeal.
But soon, you sat up in fear at the sound of thunder. "That's... loud," Minho muttered. You nodded in agreement. The two of you heard Thomas yell, scream for the driver to wait, but he drove forward. You stretched your heads up trying to see what it was about, but soon a thump almost jolted everyone out of their seat.
Your heartbeat quickened. "Did we...?"
A second thump, as the back wheels rolled over something. Or someone. And Minho looked out the window, a grave expression on his face. "Yeah. Guess Alby was right."