Run With Me ➵ Newt [2]

ONE | rat man

▬I got up and collasped onto one of the cushions, completely exhausted. All the remaining energy in me had depleted and my limbs were sore from running so much around in the Maze. I closed my eyes, trying to steady my heavy breathing and pounding heartbeat. All the food and water I had consumed earlier made my brain slow and hazy, and soon enough I felt myself slipping in and out of sleep.

The cushion I was sitting on sank beside me, and when I opened my eyes I found Newt collasped by my side, looking drained. Newt had collasped at my side, looking drained. His usually blond hair was dark and lifeless, and the heavy eyebags under his eyes were like supernovas. I figured I didn't look much better.

An hour passed. Then another.

By this time, the others had gotten restless. Several of them started stretching and roaming around the room. The others conversed with each other in low voices, looking bored out of their minds. Thomas was pacing around, evidently frustrated.

After ten minutes of this, Newt called out, "Bloody hell, Thomas, stop pacin'. You're making the rest of us nervous."

"I can't help it," Thomas said, wringing his hands. "We've been waiting for so long now. How long is this Janson man gonna take?"

As if on cue, there was a click and the metal door swung open.

We stared as it opened to reveal a black-haired man with a stern expression. He was wearing the facility's guard uniform and hefted a menacing-looking gun by his side. Then another man stepped into view, this one looking older and holding an air of authority about him. His sideburns were grey and a small, smug smile lingered at his lips, subtle enough to pass off as a friendly smile, though it didn't exactly fool me.

My friends and I scrambled forward, our wide curious eyes demanding answers. We gathered in front of the doors facing the two men, hesitation written all over our faces.

"You kids doin' alright?" The man asked.

We stared at each other, incredulous. After all we'd been through, 'alright' definitely did not describe the numerous tramautic experiences we were forced to suffer through.

"Sorry for all the fuss," the man said. "We had ourselves, uh... a bit of a swarm."

"Who are you?" Thomas asked.

The man smiled. "I'm the reason you're all still alive. It's my intention to keep you that way." He stepped back, gesturing at us to follow. "Now, come with me."

-

"You can call me Mr Janson," the man said as he guided us through the building. "I run this place. For us it is a sanctuary, safe from the horrors of the outside world." He led us down a corridor. "You guys should think it as a waystation. Kind of a... home between home. Please, watch yourselves."

We walked around a metal railing, where several workers were sawing off something from high above, sparks raining down on us.

"Are you taking us home?" Thomas asked skeptically.

Janson gave him a look that I couldn't quite comprehend.

"A home, of sorts," he said. "Sadly, there wouldn't be much left of wherever you came from. But we do have a place for you - a refuge - outside the Scorch, where WICKED will never find you again."

He turned his head to look at us, his pace never slowing. "How does that sound?"

We exchanged glances with each other. Was Janson telling the truth? Even if he was, it seemed too good to be true. More than two years I had spent in the Maze, and now this random dude comes up to me and my friends and tells us that the evil organization that had placed us in the Maze would never find us again. Could we really trust him?