The New Horizon ~ A Maze Runner Story

- 17 -

Thomas and Aris walked back inside the room to find Minho and Brenda sitting at the sofa, watching some kind of commercial Thomas couldn't make out. Minho turned to them instantly. "What were you guys talking about out there? Keeping secrets or something?"
"No, we were talking about ordering some food, since it's practically night and we haven't eaten since morning." Thomas replied, feeling his stomach rumble. A painful gurgle followed after.
"Good. I'm starved." That came from Brenda. She had a strange glint in her eyes. A look that laced Thomas with an uneasy guilt.
"I'll get the phone--"

"Wait," Minho said, hushing Thomas. "It's back on."
The room went quiet. Thomas realized the news was on. One of the anchors, a balding man in a cheap suit, began to speak, "Welcome back to the British Columbian Broadcasting Channel. Here today, just outside the walls of this great province is our reporter, Stacy Ling. Stacy, can you tell us what's going on out there?"
Stacy Ling, wearing the most makeup Thomas had ever seen on a girl before--which hadn't been many--nodded, adjusting her earpiece. "Well, Kurt, we see a lot of men, women, and children awaiting their allowance into AFA tomorrow morning to receive their RBI transplants."

"Many are growing impatient, and many of the infected will grow worse by the time they are allowed inside. Some people have claimed that years ago AFA was taking in triple the amount of infected as they are now, and alleged rumors of the RBI's becoming more limited have arose. AFA hasn't commented on this rumor, however, many newcomers speculate they will have to wait much longer than a week to get in with the continuous migration of people from all over the globe." The picture suddenly changed from Stacy to an elderly woman being interviewed.

The lady's illuminated face gave an eerie glow to her wrinkled complexion. Tears shone in her eyes, her chin quivered as she spoke. "We know RBI's are running out, that's the sad fact. It's not a rumor anymore. I don't know when my son's gonna make it in. He's worse off than me and it's just heartbreaking to watch--"
The TV suddenly went black; Minho had turned it off. "I can't handle anymore of that. Let's just order this food before my hanger gets worse."
Thomas wholeheartedly agreed. He got the phone and dialed five. It was the first time he had ever used a phone--in his new life at least. The availability of food on the menu was ridiculously overwhelming. There was no lobster or steak or even shrimp, which he had been craving for years now, but what he ordered was way more than enough to satisfy him.

Around half an hour later, the monstrous dinner arrived, wheeled in on one enormous tray from the kitchen down below. Hamburgers, pizza, fries, cookies, chocolate bars, milkshakes, soda, potato chips, ice cream sundaes with extra fudge. Thomas could hardly control the desire to devour everything in one sitting. The aroma was beyond amazing.
They all sat around on the floor, loading their stomachs full of glorious food. Greasy, glorious cheese pizza. Delicious, meaty burgers. Crispy golden fries. Buttery, chocolate-chunk cookies. Crunchy, salted potato chips. Decadently rich malt shakes that were almost a little too rich for their unfamiliar stomachs.

There wasn't much chit chat as they ate. And Thomas didn't want to talk. All he wanted was to savor the scrumptious variety of foods that presented themselves right in front of him--at no cost. He wouldn't be surprised if he'd gained a few pounds after devouring the surplus of food.
Minho gulped down the rest of his soda and let out a loud sigh. "I don't think I'll eat again for a whole shucking week."
It was sinful how gluttonous they had become. Nausea kicked in strong not too long after, and just the slightest glance at the leftovers of pizza and fries set off Thomas's gag reflex.
"Ah, man . . . Who's gonna put the rest of that in the fridge? I can't stand to look at it anymore." He asked, rubbing tenderly at his bloated stomach.

"Not me, dude. I think I'm gonna go to bed and try to sleep off this food coma." Minho replied, slowly pushing himself off the floor.
Thomas couldn't help but agree. He was suffering from a major food coma. "Yeah. Me too."
Brenda rolled her eyes, then stood up, grunting. "I'll do it if I can sleep on the bed."
"I'm not even in the mood to argue--go ahead."
Thomas himself didn't care where he slept, even if that meant right there on the floor. He'd never been so uncomfortably fulfilled in his life and it was the strangest dichotomy. 
He pushed his discomfort aside and focused on sleeping, on the thought of tomorrow when they would finally see their friends. Excitement blanketed him as he fell into a deep sleep.