The New Horizon ~ A Maze Runner Story

- 20 -

Seventy-five burly guards stood beside the large group, encasing them like herd dogs patrolling a flock of sheep. Heads began to turn as Thomas and his friends neared the group. Eyes widened. Whispers broke out. Some pointed, many smiled; their expressions radiated relief. Frypan flailed his arms, waving them above his head, a smile flashing across his face, "Thomas! Minho!"
"Brenda, is that you?" Thomas heard Jorge call out from the rear of the group. In a flash, Brenda was running to his side, arms outstretched.

"Sonya? Sonya, where are you?" Aris called, frantic to see her face. Eyes searching every direction.
Thomas saw Sonya poke through the middle of the throng. "Over here!"
Aris lurched in her direction.
Names were being thrown out in every direction like something of a lottery calling. Cheer, laughter, consolation. Every expression radiated the joy brought on by familiarity. Thomas included. He was almost so lost in the whole ordeal that he barely heard Minho call his name. He was standing beside Frypan, further up in line.

Thomas ran to meet them, feeling a rush of reassurance fall over him once again. His friends were all there. They had all successfully made it.
"Frypan, dude, tell us everything that happened." Minho said once Thomas met them. Minho reached out to shake Frypan's hand, when a guard swatted his hand away with an audible slap. The guard's voice boomed as he spoke, as if it was being amplified by a speaker. "No touching. We don't know if he's Immune yet."

Minho took a step back, clearly offended, and Thomas cringed at the remark Minho would blurt out any second now--as if they needed more trouble with guards. "He's my friend and I happen to know he is Immune. I know it's just a precaution but geez."
An agitated scowl developed on the guard's face. He squinted down at Minho as if he were a bug, about to be squashed. "Listen, boy, don't ever try to stand up to me again. You understand? I don't know who you are, and I don't care. That's not how you treat a guard. Ever."
Minho crossed his arms then leaned into Thomas's ear, whispering noisily. "He is one of the shuckiest-shuck-faced shucks I've ever met."

Thomas blew a puff of breath through his nose, suppressing a laugh. Holding it in for the sake of the intimidating guard that towered over him, like the iron wall that encased the province. Stone cold and terrifyingly tall.
"Frypan," Thomas cleared his throat, changing the subject before Minho dug them any deeper into trouble, "when did they come and get you? Explain everything." It was a genuine question, and he was genuinely curious.

Frypan took in a steady breath and exhaled. "Midnight. Nobody was awake. The guards came storming into the huts. I was dead scared, man. I thought they were part of WICKED. Everyone did. Then they gathered us up one by one and started explaining how you four made it successfully to this organization called AFA, and that they were from there. We had ten minutes to pack up anything we wanted. Then the guards collected us in these Berg-looking helicopters. It was nauseating, but hey, we made it."
Minho scoffed, "At least you didn't have to break your back hiking up here. But it's good to have ya back, shank. I don't miss your klunk cooking, though."

Frypan reached out to sock Minho's arm when he stopped abruptly, realizing that the guard was eyeing him like a hawk. "Uh, well . . . How is this place anyways?"
"Good so far. They give you a room, as much food as you want, and outfits. New ones everyday. Anything you want is free. But they kick you out after a week." Thomas replied, excluding the suspicion he still had about the place.
Frypan rubbed his stomach wearily. "Man, I could use some breakfast. My stomach's been growling a while now."

"Just don't go overboard on the food. That's one mistake we made." Minho said.
Before Thomas could add his own agreement to the conversation, a voice rang out. It pierced him straight on and he swiveled around, facing the source of the voice.
"Is there a 'Thomas' here?" A male orderly asked, only several feet away from Thomas. A notepad was clutched in his hand with a pen in the other. His eyes wandered aimlessly throughout the crowd of Immunes. Without a word to his friends, Thomas left, walking over to the mysterious man.

"I'm Thomas." It came out as more of a question than a statement, and he could imagine the stupid look of curiosity plastered all over his face.
"Hello, Thomas." The man said, showing an awkward smile. It was obvious that smiling wasn't something he was used to. "Follow me, please."
"What?" Thomas inquired. But Mystery Man didn't answer. He took off walking towards the main white building. And Thomas couldn't help but follow after the bait.