Amnesia: A Maze Runner Fanfiction

c h a p t e r . e l e v e n

This medical shack had seemed to become a sort of home for me.

Newt was standing next to me, waiting on Jeff, while he rifled through some drawers at the bedside.

"Last one, I think," he announced, turning around to reveal a syringe filled with blue liquid dangling in his fingertips. The last cure we had for Griever stings.

If there was anyone in here to care for, I'd be helping. Last night hadn't left any Gladers stung. Aside from the ones taken, a couple were found dead (none that I knew) but had long since been dealt with by the Deadheads.

Clint, the only other Med-jack, had been taken - leaving Jeff on his own, save for me. Jeff had spent the whole morning sorting his friend's things. It was a quiet process.

"Anna, can you stay here with Jeff, help him sort out this mess? I need to-"

Before he got the chance to finish, he was interrupted by a shout as someone skidded into the medical shack.

"We got a problem, Newt!" I turned my attention to the door, where Teresa was stood, breathless. Newt shot up from his chair and moved towards her.

"What's wrong?"

"It's Thomas," she panted. "He-" as she choked on a sudden sob, I realised tears were falling from her eyes. "He stung himself."

"He what?!" Newt demanded.

"He- He said it was, to, remember, that it's important he remembers, 'cause it'll, it'll get us out of here, he said." Jeff moved over to help Teresa into his chair, as Newt hastily ran a hand through his hair.

"Shit."

"That's a new one."

"Slim it, Jeff. Teresa, where is he? Who's with him?"

"Frypan was there when he did it. I think they're on their way here." As if on cue, I heard shouting from outside, and a group of people burst through the door. Frypan was dragging an unconscious Thomas inside with Minho's help.

The frenzy around Thomas continued as they dropped him onto the bed. As Jeff readied the syringe - the last syringe - he instructed Frypan, Minho, Teresa and Newt to each hold down one of Thomas' thrashing limbs.

"Ready?" Jeff said, before plunging the syringe into Thomas' neck. His body began to convulse, writhing while his eyes were closed still. My face was contorted in a frown as I watched on, wincing as Thomas grunted and groaned in his unconscious state.

A Glader - one of the younger boys I remembered seeing in the Homestead with us last night - appeared in the doorway of the medical shack. "Newt?" he called, clearly flustered. "The box. Is it true? The box isn't moving?"

Newt turned around, frantic. "Yeah, I know that. I'm kinda busy, right now, Chuck-"

"If that box isn't coming back up, how long do you think we're gonna last?"

"Chuck, I'll sort this later, right now-"

"Holy klunk! Thomas?" the boy cried. He ran inside and stopped beside Thomas' bed. He seemed distraught. "What happened to him?"

"He got stung," I told him. He turned to me, fear in his eyes.

"Like you?" I nodded. "But, you're okay, aren't you?"