Subject of the Flame | Maze Runner [2]

FOURTEEN

[ ELECTRA ]

❧

When Janson disappeared into thin air, it was as if any hope that Electra had managed to clutch onto vanished with him. She slumped forward, letting out a long breath as the all too familiar feeling of anxiety crept up on her senses. As always, it started small, merely affecting somewhere between her heart and stomach, but it quickly spread through her entire body. It concealed her in a shell of fear. Electra had to step away from the common area before it became worse.

Her feet carried her to the boys' room, although in her state she hadn't noticed. She sat down on the farthest bed, the one nearest to the barred window. She looked out the window to the brick wall and felt suffocated. The wall impeding her vision reminded her of the Maze, and she wasn't sure if that made her feel better or worse.

Different cage, same trap.

Of course WICKED would never let them go. How foolish of her to assume they'd actually been able to escape the Maze. How even more foolish of her to assume that WICKED had no further plans for them after the Maze Trial. Everything in her remembered life had been calculated; it had been planned. Even their suspicions of the new facility and their attempted escape.

Now, WICKED had injected them with a deadly virus. The Flare. None of them were Immune, and if they didn't submit to the next Trial they would all slowly go insane. Why would WICKED be testing them if they weren't Immune? If they had a cure for the Flare, then what were the Trials even for? What would the effects of the Flare feel like? Would death be better or worse than losing grip on your mind? Electra decided that slowly descending into madness would be far more painful than any type of death.

Also, what did Janson say? That all the Variables they'd faced had been meticulously thought out? Electra's tattoo began to itch. She was called the Variable. Was she worth no more than a Griever? Could they control her as they did the monsters? They'd controlled her before, and Electra shook her head to avoid the memory of saving Newt's life. But, the fact that they did it once meant they could again. And if she wasn't a normal subject but a variable, what was stopping them from doing it again?

Was she just another variable? Was she just another monster?

Tomorrow, Phase Two of Part Two started, whatever that meant. Electra's mind carried her to Minho first, like it always did. His tattoo said he was the leader, and she worried because she knew he would take the nickname seriously. She wanted to try to convince him to stray away from leading; she wanted him to focus on surviving, but she knew her attempts would be futile. Minho was better than her in that sense. His heart would convince him to lead the Gladers to safety and, if any of them died, he would feel it on his conscience as if it was entirely his fault. She didn't want him to be the leader. She just wanted him to survive.

Electra's worry carried over to Thomas. While the rest of the Gladers held a degree of animosity toward her, Thomas never seemed to. Would she consider him a friend? She wasn't sure. However, she did know that if her life was on the line he would risk his life to save her. Electra decided at that moment to repay the same selflessness to him. Friend or not, she didn't want to see him die.

What about Newt? The question startled her, and Electra looked away from the window to see the blond boy laying down on a bunk across the room. His hands sat beneath his head, and Newt looked up at the ceiling in silence. Would she risk her life to save him? No, she wouldn't. Newt had been nothing but rude to her, so why would she put her life on the line for his? He didn't like her, and she felt the same for him. Still, she couldn't ignore the tiniest scrap of worry in the back of her mind when she thought of him in danger.