The New Horizon ~ A Maze Runner Story

- 48 -

"We're the good guys!" Thomas said, growing frustrated, squirming underneath the crazed man's impressively strong grip.
He scowled so ferociously Thomas could have sworn he'd just about shoot him out of anger. "You're the filth that corrupts this world, promising your cure actually works and whatever--what the hell do you know about the Flare? You know shit."
Thomas was amazed that no one had rescued him by now. The smoke had only thickened, and all he could see beyond him was an opaque white sky. There was no movement beyond the whiteness of the smoke and debris. It was nauseating. All he could make out beyond the cloud of smoke was the Crank's eyes, pulsing with life and death and mania.

"AFA is the only light left in this world. . .," Thomas said evenly, trying to convey his sincerity through his eyes. He ached with the desire to tell the man about his vaccine, to give some hope to the man that held a pistol in his hand, with an unstable mind and trembling fingers that could, at any moment, wrap themselves around the trigger. "Please, just . . . just stay calm."
"You're a lousy liar!" The Crank shouted so suddenly and shrilly that Thomas flinched, tried to push himself away, but the man grew impossibly stronger with adrenaline. "You all planned this! Everyone at AFA is to blame! Just like WICKED!"
Thomas froze, stunned that the man had mentioned WICKED. He only snapped back into reality the very moment that man swung his arm back to bash Thomas with the gun.

He caught the man's arm right before the gun flew into Thomas's skull.
"STOP," Thomas shouted, "AFA is not WICKED!"
"I HATE YOU," The Crank yelled viscously, veins in his neck popping out in thick, jagged lines. Thomas had come too far to die in the hands on a Crank--after everything WICKED had done to him. After all the shuck danger he'd been put through, this was not his end. He wouldn't let himself die at the expense of a Crank--some Flare-riddled lunatic would not be his demise. He forced awake every ounce of strength dormant inside of him and pushed the man off of him, screaming with effort.

Thomas had no idea how he'd done what he had done; his adrenaline rush dominated the Crank. Thomas's feet gained purchase and he stood, towering over the heaving man, pointing man's pistol directly over him, feeling a euphoric triumph.
"I don't want to hurt you," Thomas said, his own chest heaving radically.
The crazed man snarled something inhuman and Thomas's heart sunk; the Crank held another pistol in his hands. He raised both eyebrows, smiling sadistically. His eyes twinkling with excitement in the hazy smog around them. "Then I'll hurt you first. You Immune piece of shi--"
"Stop!" Thomas exclaimed, his body locked up in fear, the pistol quivering in his hands, skin pale and cold. "There is a cure, I can assure you."

The man fired anyway. Thomas yelped, dodging the bullet he couldn't see that was swallowed up in the opaque cloud beyond them. Thomas shook with rage, finger wrapped so tightly around the trigger, any ounce of pressure could send a bullet soaring. "Listen. To. Me," he yelled over the blaring sirens, "there is a freaking cure! I swear it on my life. Now, stop shooting. Put your gun down." He emphasized every word, throwing his vexation into every syllable.
"You're lying, you--"
Thomas fired at the ground once, making the man jolt with terror, almost if it woke him up to reality. "AFA will be producing a vaccine soon. That's all I can tell you, but I assure you, there's a cure around the corner. Please, trust me."

He made a bargain saying what he said, but it was his only choice. The Crank shook his head, as if clearing negative voices from his head. He lowered his gun, only a few inches. "I don't believe you."
"Listen--"
"You gotta prove it to me. Give me that vaccine."
Thomas exhaled, shaking his head. That was impossible. And the man picked up on that, cocking his pistol, aiming at Thomas's chest.
"I knew you were full of lies, and now I'm gonna kill you--"
"WAIT," Thomas cried. An idea had sprung into his mind. This was his only option at getting away--alive. "I can prove it to you. I can prove it to the world."

The man was about to protest when guards rushed in, ripping the gun out of his hand, dragging him away as he thrashed, yelling obscenities. Thomas just stared, dazed and at a loss for words--thankful that help had come.
"I'll still find a way to kill you, you liar! I swear on it! AFA will fail!" That was the last thing he heard from the deranged man. Shivers ran along his spine, and he realized he was moving, being escorted into the main building by guards, being taken away from the calamity of the outside.
I'll still find a way to kill you. That statement bounced around inside Thomas's head.

Once he was ushered inside the lobby, a cold hand clasped around his arm. Owens, more frazzled than ever. Yet, full of relief. "Thomas," she exhaled sharply, "are you okay? I heard you were attacked--"
"I'm fine, but AFA won't be," he paused to breathe, "I have to do something. We have to prove to the world there's still hope."
Owens shook her head, her loose bun swayed with her. "How?"
"I need to use your broadcasting system. Please."
"And do what?"
"Tell the world."

***

Together, Thomas and Doctor Owens rushed to the elevator banks and arrived in an office-like room, full of focused people at their computers, typing furiously, shouting out stats, working on ideas of restoring the wall as fast as possible, calling for backup, arguing on the phone. It was a nest of disarray.
Doctor Owens called for a male, just a couple years older than Thomas, to start up the broadcast communication. Without a question as to why, he punched in the password, starting up the system.
"Full volume. We need everyone outside the wall to hear us," Owens instructed.

A thundering crash shook the walls. More explosives. Fire truck sirens wailed outside.
"We need to do this now." The urgency in the doctor's voice was palpable. The guy nodded, motioning at the machine, "It's ready."
"There's no time like the present," Thomas said, gripping onto the broadcasting microphone. He tapped it once, causing a boom that transmitted inside and outside, clear as day.
"Say what you need to, Thomas. I just hope we won't be penalized."
Thomas could only nod. Sweat dampened the back of his neck and his palms were wet as he grabbed the mike, breathing heavily.

"Everyone," Thomas spoke, hearing his voice repeat several times in echo, as if he were standing in a baseball stadium, screaming at the top of his lungs. "Please--all of you--stop what you're doing and listen to me. AFA has a cure. For all of you."
He hadn't realized just how impactful that statement had been; the outside drone of noise stilled. He continued on, "This might sound ridiculous, but let me assure you, AFA has been producing thousands of vaccines--enough to ultimately cure the world. None of us were aware of the sudden shortage of RBI's, but these new vaccines will be more efficient than we've ever imagined. . . This is the cure that AFA has kept secret. But we can't keep this a secret anymore. It's unfair to you--you deserve to know. And here you have it."

Thomas could feel the gravitation of eyes looking up at the building where his voice was being broadcasted from. "So, please, hold onto hope. Stop destroying, stop harming. This isn't what we need as a world. We need to unite--to hope for this great organization. I swear, from the pit of my soul, you will be cured."