The Transfer | Gally TMR

Chapter One

Property of WICKED: Lillian Marie Waters. Subject B1: The Transfer. The words burned into the skin of my neck still stung when I craned from side to side which, given the circumstances, was kind of impossible to avoid. I was on a bus, alone. It wasn't anything fancy, the moth eaten seats reeked of sweat, blood, and rotting flesh. You would think the very fact that I knew what the smell of rotting flesh smelled like was disconcerting, but that was nothing. Nothing compared to the things I'd smelt, seen, experienced in the past two years. The truth was, I wasn't sure if it was ever going to end, but when it all came crashing down, it went down in flames. Chaos, screaming, people I cared about dying all around me as I watched in agony. Eventually they got me too- the cranks. I thought I was dead for sure, the carried me away into the maze- alive. When they didn't kill me, I realized the extent our our actions. I realized what was going on- all too late. That was when the hoards of men in black leather suits and masks over their faces, with giant guns in their hands came in through doors that I didn't even know existed. They killed the cranks that had captured me, took me straight out of the maze. I don't remember much about what it was like outside the maze, just a lot of dust. Heat, and dust. And now, here I am. On a bus- to God knows where. It seemed unfair, I had protested and squirmed to get away at first, return to my friends, but the "rescuers" claimed that I was the only one they needed. But that doesn't make sense, right?! I mean, why was I the only one to get rescued? What about all of my friends, all of those girls still in the Glade? Why couldn't they be rescued? They didn't answer any of my persistent questions, however, hey simply ran me onto this bus, and we've been driving this way in silence now for about an hour. Agonizing, ignorant, silence. I made my way up to the front of the bus, minding to hold on to the sides of the seats as I went, considering the bumpy instability of the gravel road. There at the front, a single guard was sitting, conversing quietly with the bus driver.

"Excuse me?" I said harshly. I didn't care that they had rescued me, they were not to be trusted. I learned that back in the Glade. Trust no one who isn't a Glader. He turned back towards me, my forest green eyes meting his cold, absentminded gray ones.

"What'dya want, girl?" He said, his voice gruff and filled with disdain and weariness. I sighed, crossing my arms.

"I deserve to know where I'm being taken." I said plainly. He chuckled, shaking his head. His smile was almost menacing.

"Listen, sweetheart, there's no need to make a fuss. We're almost there. But listen, we're not going to hurt you. You're safe, for now. And listen, I can't say much, but you should be honored that they chose you." He said, as though it was the most evident thing in the world. They? Was he talking about the supposed Creators?

"What do you mean, 'honored they chose me' ?" I furrowed my eyebrows, steadying myself as we hit a pot hole. He sighed.

"Listen, they'll explain everythin' when we get back to WICKED's headquarters, alright? Now there's nothin' you can do 'bout it, so I suggest you just rest up 'til we get there. Ok?" I sighed, crossing my arms, finally nodding and walking back towards the back of the bus where I took to my seat. WICKED. If I was going to WICKED's headquarters, this certainly was something new. The other girls, along with myself, had figured out some time ago that WICKED was the name, or rather acronym, for the Creator's of the Maze and it's many tests. The question was, why was I the only one going? I took this time, pondering the many questions that were cramming into the depths of my brain, to examine my physical appearance. I figured it was bad, the dust from outside the maze, mixed with the moist-less hot air that filtered throughout the bus, was enough to send my hair into a frizz frenzy, and my body into a stench filled sweat. I glanced down towards my light yellow blouse, my black slacks, and my now dirtied white lab coat. I had come to like the tattered old thing, despite the many verbal complaints we would all make in regards to them during our free time. The truth was we never took them off, we were almost always working. Diligently investigating the virus that was the Flare. That was the hole point of the Glade. Further research on the Flare, while being constantly subjected by real-live patients who had become subjected to it. I guess they figured it gave us motivation to develop and perfect the antidote. In little, black lettering across the front pocket of my coat, it read: Dr. L. Waters, Head of ASDP (Anti-virus Serum Development Project) B1. I sighed, shaking my head. My research on the Anti-virus would never continue at the same rate without me there. I was the only one who could actually get close enough to a crank to sample their skin, blood, brain patterns, you name it. I was the only one they trusted, and the only one who could win in a fight against them- should push come to shove. I don't know what it was about me that they liked, but they had never messed with me once during my two years in the Maze. Which is why, when they actually attacked me in the Glade jut a few hours ago, I was left in shock. I laid my head in my hands, trying to calm my breathing as I felt the bus lurch to a sudden stop.