The New Horizon ~ A Maze Runner Story

- 13 -

Thomas's thoughts were discontinued once Nurse O'Brien cleared him from the medical examination. He breathed a sigh of pure relief--no more needles.
A male orderly assisted him further into the hospital, through several hallways, past massive machines and empty beds, where they stopped at a restroom. Thomas's clenched nerves eased when he saw Aris, Brenda, and Minho standing around by the restroom, waiting for Thomas to show.

"You will have twenty minutes to shower," the orderly said before Thomas could say anything to his friends. "Each of you have a new outfit inside."
He glanced down at his clipboard as if he forgot the rest of his monologue. "Oh--and a doctor will be waiting for you afterwards. Don't be late." Then he walked off, unbothered, down the hallways he'd come from.
Thomas was intrigued, wondering if it this doctor the orderly talked about was the main doctor that ordered the guards to capture him and his friends.
"Well, what're we waiting for?" Minho said, breaking Thomas away from his internal questionnaire. Brenda nodded, already walking to the adjacent girls restroom. "Adios, boys. I bet I'll finish first."

Thomas's eyes involuntarily widened as he stepped into the mammoth restroom.
Wide-set mirrors hugged the walls, wrapping around the pristine foyer. A multitude of sinks stretched on, their facets an odd glass configuration. Beyond the modern-style sinks, stalls and urinals lined each side of the never-ending walls. Not one fingerprint or specimen tarnished the restroom. It was absolutely spot-free. An artificial fragrance of sandalwood and musk wafted, aiding to suppress the pungent smell of ammonia.
Cautiously, as if Thomas were in a dream, he approached one of the many giant mirrors. His eyes perused over himself, almost caught in catatonia. Seeing so many mirrors, when Paradise had been mirror-less, was a startling anomaly. 

Thomas focused on his shabby, sunburnt face. Parts of it blistered and peeling. His hair matted down and oily; disheveled. Soiled, stained clothes. He felt disgusting, like one of the wild boars back in Paradise after they rolled around in mud. It was unbelievable how he'd forgotten what he looked like after three months of primitive living.
"Finally, no more shucking stream water!" Minho hollered so suddenly that Thomas jumped, eyes averting from the mirror and to his friend, who was turning one of the faucets off and on, incredulously. As if all the idle things in life were now inconceivable. But Thomas couldn't deny the beauty in watching the crystal clear water flow. He hollered along with Minho. It was ridiculous how simplicity was taken for granted.

"Guys, we have toilets! Real, running toilets!" Aris shouted from one of the many stalls, his voice echoing throughout the boundless bathroom. "Come and see this!"
Minho and Thomas sprinted to Aris's side, watching, awestruck, as he flushed the toilet for effect. How long had it been since Thomas had seen a toilet? Too long to admit.
"I was getting so fed up with the makeshift ones in Paradise," Minho said, slapping Thomas on the back jovially.
Thomas couldn't have agreed more. "Weren't we all. And yeah, this plan was pretty brilliant."
Minho sucked his teeth, "Yeah, well, you're still a slinthead. We haven't fully trusted these shanks anyway."
"Alright, then I'm a brilliant slinthead." Thomas countered. Minho just rolled his eyes.

"We only have fifteen minutes left now," Aris said, breaking the mirthful silence. Thomas checked the digital clock for himself. It was five-fifteen p.m. Aris was right, and Thomas was way overdue for a shower. There was nothing holding back his excitement.
The showers doubtlessly topped everything--even the toilets. Hot, nearly searing, droplets of water plummeted onto Thomas's skin. Easing his knotted muscles. Massaging his aching back. Purifying his greasy hair. Detoxing his grimy skin. He scrubbed his body clean, kneaded the cologne fragrance soap deeply into his scalp. There was something so joyous about being clean, as if it was a freedom of its own. And it was heartbreaking to shut the water off.

As the orderly had promised, three identical outfits hung outside each of the showers. There was just so much beauty in fresh, clean clothes. Thomas pulled the soft, blue polo shirt over his damp head, tucking it into the waistband of his khaki pants. To his surprise, everything fit well--almost perfectly, despite not being tailored.
"We all set?" Minho asked, tugging at the collar of his shirt. Thomas nodded, crouched down, tying the laces of his brand new sneakers, fresh from the box. They made Thomas's old sneakers look like a tarnished travesty, and he had no problem throwing them in the trash.
"We have exactly one minute left." Aris said, pointedly gesturing at the clock. "Guess we should go out and wait for this doctor guy."

They walked out to find Brenda propped against the girls restroom door, looking as if she had been waiting for them for decades. Her face was clear, vibrant even. Her black, shoulder-length hair, silky and straight. She wore the same outfit. Same shirt, pants, and shoes--like they were all quadruplets. "See? Told ya I'd finish first. You boys are slow."
"Sorry, Miss Early Bird. Didn't mean to keep you waiting." Minho replied.
"Don't mention it." Brenda said, standing tall, hands in pockets. Looking almost too homey for the place. "So, where's this doctor guy at, anyway?"

As if on cue, a thin man, probably standing six-foot-five, walked through the hallway. A smile, like the kind of smile Thomas imagined a grandfather would give to his grandchildren, was curled onto his wrinkled, worn face. His amiable disposition didn't match his menacing height. "I am Doctor Wells, and I know a lot about where you all came from."