Amnesia: A Maze Runner Fanfiction

c h a p t e r . s i x t e e n

Images flashed in my brain. Memories. I'd been here before.

"Teresa," I murmured.

"Yeah," she replied quietly. "We were... here. Weren't we?" Thomas glanced over at both of us with the same horrified expression the two of us certainly already sported. Newt seemed to grip me closer, an attempt at comfort.

I let out a shaky sob. Overwhelmed, burning, exhausted, I needed to escape the madness. I think I drifted in and out of consciousness a couple of times, falling into Newt and Teresa, out cold where I stood. I hadn't cried yet, but for a moment I was conscious and my cheeks were wet. The crowd of Gladers around me was starting to grow in volume and anger, whispered murmurings transforming into disgruntled voices, and Minho's occasional yell in frustration.

"I'll break their faces!" I heard him shout, painfully loud, shocking most to silence. We all felt his anger, but fear was consuming us. Those people behind the glass had controlled our lives, tortured us all and killed our friends. Angry as I was, I couldn't face what they might do to me if they knew we were here.

Suddenly, in the far corner of the chamber, a grated wall slid up to reveal another corridor, like it had for Minho. For a beat, no-one moved - just stared at the passage, until two people walked out of it.

Two real life people. The brand new fear instilled in me seemed enough to keep me conscious. The first was a woman - an actual grown-up. She was tall and thin, with short brown hair and a face that was neither smiling nor frowning. She didn't seem as ghostly as the people behind the windows, but instead appeared purely disinterested, as if she didn't care that we were here. I noticed she wore basic black trousers and a white polo shirt, but a logo of WICKED in blue capital letters was emblazoned on the breast. She seemed painfully familiar.

The second person was a boy wearing an overly large sweatshirt with the hood up, head down, drawstrings pulled, concealing his entire face.

"Welcome back," the woman said finally. "Over two years, and so few dead. Incredible."

"Excuse me?" Newt retorted, angry as I felt. Half of our group had been murdered by the Grievers in our escape attempt alone. The number of crossed-out names on the wall of boys I'd never met was staggering. I thought of Jeff. Clint. Alby.

The woman looked disapprovingly at Newt. I clung onto him a little tighter, as if worried she was going to do something, to hurt him, somehow. "Everything has gone according to plan, Mr Newton," she said, breaking into a proud smile. I felt my stomach drop as she did.

She reached across to her companion, pulling the boy's hood off his head. Everyone collectively sucked in a breath of shock. The boy scanned the crowd, his eyes pleading and wet with tears.

It was Gally.

It was Gally.

"What?" Thomas uttered weakly. Minho, beside him, looked like he might explode. My heart was hammering in my chest as I stared at Gally, my wound screaming. This was the boy that had stabbed me, and now he was stood beside our captor. I felt my knees buckle, and Newt and Teresa scrambled to try and catch me as I hit the floor.

"What is he doing here?" Minho shouted. Gally's gaze lingered on me for a moment, before turning to Minho. He didn't say a word.

"You're safe now," the woman assured him. I didn't feel safe. I felt like I was going to die. Newt tried to hoist me back to my feet, but I cried out in pain, unable to get any further than kneeling. The hole in my side started leaking again, blood trickling out like a tap turned on half way. Newt pressed a hand over it, blood eking between his fingers.

"Can't you help her?" Teresa said desperately to the woman. "It's been hours. She's dying!"

I coughed, red spit on my lips. I mustered the energy for a shaky hand to wipe it away. The warmth seemed to drain from the room, save from the searing heat in my side where Newt's hand was still pressed. Teresa was wrong, surely. The knife hadn't... been in my heart. My lungs still took in sharp, panicked breaths. I'd be okay, wouldn't I?

"There's still one more Variable," the woman said calmly. Somehow still conscious, I looked back to Gally. He was trembling on the spot. Something was off with him. Something was very wrong - worse than usual. His face was deathly pale, drenched in sweat and glistening just as his eyes were. His mouth twitched, as if trying to speak.

"They..." he choked out, strained. "Can control me. I... don't-" He paused, as if being turned off with a switch. His eyes seemed to go blank, and then he moved, impossibly fast, pulling something long and glinting and silver and sharp, and hurling it towards us - towards Thomas.

Time sped up as the dagger twirled through the air, barely leaving enough time for Gladers to call out in shock and despair. Suddenly there was a flurry of movement, and then a horrific cry of pain.

Thomas stood over a figure on the ground, who, from my position, I saw through Gladers' legs to be Chuck. The dagger's hilt was sticking out from the middle of his chest. I saw blood pooling, impossibly fast. Thomas dropped down by his side, placing his hands over the pouring blood, trying to will it back into his body. Chuck let out a gargled cough, rattled with death, as more blood spewed from his lips.

"Tho...mas," I heard him croak. Thomas was sobbing, shouting fruitlessly for help. No one could help, and he seemed to know it.

"Hang on, Chuck," he cried, cradling the boy. "Fight it!" he pleaded.

"Find... my mom. Tell her..." He didn't finish. He was interrupted by another weak cough, spraying blood everywhere. I saw his eyes flutter closed, and his spasming legs stopped kicking. One final wheeze of breath left his lungs, and his body went limp.

There was a moment of silence. Everyone was deadly still. Newt's pressure on my side increased, and his other arm cradled my lolling head. My next cough had less gargled blood, and I felt fresh air enter my lungs. My eyes were still glued to Chuck.

Thomas stared at Chuck's body for a moment, before he stood up, and something snapped. Suddenly, with a scream sounding more like a battle cry, he charged for Gally and tackled him, the pair tumbling onto the floor. Thomas straddled Gally, throwing punch after punch to his face. Both boys' screams filled the echoing chamber, filled with different kinds of pain. I was almost afraid Thomas was going to kill the boy, when Minho lurched forward and pulled him away. Gally stayed on the floor, still.

Thomas fell back onto his knees by Chuck's side. There was a pool of blood surrounding Chuck's lifeless body. Thomas cradled him to his chest, squeezing as if he could bring him back to life, choked cries echoing about the room.

"I promised him!" he sobbed. "I promised I'd save him, take him home! I promised him!" Teresa put a hand on his shoulder, her eyes cast to the ground. I felt tears escaping my eyes as I reached a hand up to Newt's, the one around my shoulders. He squeezed my hand in response, putting more pressure still on my side, enough to make me wince.

Frypan was beside us, and he laid a comforting hand on Newt's shoulder. "You're fine," Newt whispered to me, voice shaky. I'm not sure if he believed it. After what I'd just witnessed, I couldn't muster a response. "You're fine," I heard him say again as my head lolled forward, and everything went black.