The Huntress Descent

The Labyrinth: Chapter Seventeen

Just after I heard the grind and rumble of the stone walls closing of the Doors for the day, Alby showed up looking happy and well. From what I had heard, his recovery seemed miraculous, compared to what Ben went through. The metal of key and lock jingled; then the door to the cell swung wide open.

"Ain't dead, are we?" Alby asked. From the stories I overheard, looking at Alby you wouldn't have thought that he was a paler colour then he was, his eyes crisscrossed with red veins, his skin sticking to his bones. Thomas lied to me.

Alby noticed us gawking at him. "Shuck it, what you both lookin' at?"

Thomas shook his head slightly, bashing a hand against it. "What – Nothing. Just seem crazy you healed so quickly. You're fine now, right?"

Alby fled his right bicep. I rolled my eyes. "Ain't never been better – come on out."

Thomas helped me up from the floor, passed my crutches and placed the pillow under his arm. I hobbled out of the Slammer. Thomas came behind me, squinting from the amount of sunlight – which wasn't that much.

Alby closed the Slammer door and locked it, then turned to face us "Actually, nothin' but a lie. I feel like a piece of klunk twice crapped by a Griever."

"Yeah, you looked it yesterday," Thomas said. Alby glared at him, and he quickly added. "But today you look brand new, I swear."

"Smooth," I mumbled.

Alby put the keys in his trouser pocket and leaned back against the Slammer's door. "So, quite the little talk we had yesterday."

At this point, the sensible thing to do was to fade out into the Glade. Yet I was very curious to hear more about this famous conversation and clearly, I was quiet enough that I hadn't been sent on my way.

"Uh ... yeah, I remember."

"I saw what I saw, Greenie. It's kinds fadin', but I ain't never gonna forget. It was terrible. Tried to talk about it, somethin' starts choking me. Now the images are gone, like that same somethin' don't like me remembering."

There was a moment of silence, words being determined in Thomas's mind. Or was it fear? "What was it about me – you kept saying you saw me. What was I doing?"

Alby stared into empty space in the distance for a while before answering. "You were with the ... Creators. Helping them. But that ain't what got me shook up."

Thomas's jaw dropped at the revelation. This didn't sound good.

Alby continued. "I hope the Changing doesn't give us real memories – just plants fake ones. Some suspect it – I can only hope. If the world's the way I saw it ..." He trailed off, leaving an ominous silence. I was starting to believe Alby.

That one thought crossed my mind. The realisation started to sink in. There was no point denying it any more. Those dreams weren't dreams. And Alby confirmed it. The temptation to move away from Thomas built in my like a fire. But I wanted to stay and listen so I fought against the urge.

"Can't you tell me what you saw about me?" Thomas pestered.

Alby shook his head. "No way, shank. Ain't gonna risk stranglin' myself again. Might be something they got in our brains to control us—just like the memory wipe."

"Well, if I'm evil, maybe you should leave me locked up."

"Yes," I said without thinking. Both sets of eyes fell on me, one confused, one angry. "Do it. You can't trust him."

Alby scowled at me, placing his hands on his hips. "Keep it quiet, girlie. I haven't got time to be listenin' to your jokes. Go away I ain't got time for you." He turned to Thomas. "You ain't evil. You might be a shuck-faced slinthead, but you ain't evil." Alby showed the slightest hint of a smile, a bare crack in his usually hard face. "What you did—riskin' your butt to save me and Minho—that ain't no evil I've ever heard of. Nah, just makes me think the Grief Serum and the Changing got somethin' fishy about 'em. For your sake and mine, I hope so."