The New Horizon ~ A Maze Runner Story

- 24 -

Freezing water pierced Thomas's bare skin. For several moments he kept the icy water raining on his back as he stared off into the deepness of space in the small, cubicle shower. Finally, as gooseflesh had covered the majority of his body, he grabbed the shower knob and turned it to hot, feeling as his stiff body loosened in the slowly warming water.
Thomas's contemplations were ablaze. If it hadn't been for his operation appointment at nine in the morning, he could've very well stayed put in that shower until he sucked up the complex's entire hot water supply. The inevitable was prowling at Thomas and he feared the angst wouldn't stop until he was sedated on that operation table . . . Or maybe even until he woke up afterwards, drowsy and drugged--at least then he would know he made it out alive. Come on, Thomas, just slim it.

Doctor Owens promised him that he would survive the enormous blood procedure--if enormous was what he could even call it--but still, his heart pounded so loudly that entire morning as he got himself ready for the operation, that he could hardly hear anything else but his pulse sloshing and thudding inside his ears.
A racking knock emanated from outside the bathroom, startling Thomas from his fearful thoughts.
"Hey, uh, shank? Not to rush ya, but are you going to come out soon? There's only one bathroom and I've been waiting--"
Thomas swung the bathroom door open to see Minho. He pulled back, eyeing his friend up and down. "You look like klunk."

Thomas's wet hair was still matted down to his forehead and he grabbed the towel, squeezing out the wetness. "I couldn't sleep thanks to your snoring all night." That was only half-correct--Thomas couldn't have slept anyway; the trepidation mixed with varying excitement was too potent.
"Hey," Minho held up a finger, "I don't snore. Must've been that shank Aris."
"Uh-huh."
Minho rolled his eyes, but something in his expression had softened. He lowered his voice. "Are you really sure about this? I mean, really really sure."
Thomas absently pulled at his shirt that was sticking to his damp skin. "Yeah. Yeah, of course I am."

Minho seemed to consider that. "Okay, if you say so. I just don't want you regretting this."
"I won't. Everything'll work out. I trust Owens." Thomas said. He noted how Minho narrowed his eyes, still probably skeptical of AFA. But Thomas was honest; he did trust Owens. Somehow AFA seemed genuine, especially her. Though he couldn't decipher why exactly.
Minho slapped Thomas on the arm. "If you trust em', I guess I will too."

***

Brenda leapt into Thomas's arms, squeezing his back more forcefully than he would've expected from her. "We'll be there to see you once the doctors let us in. Which better be sooner than later," She pulled away, then leaned in his ear to whisper, "I don't want to have to beat anyone up."
Thomas smiled. Despite the hardships he and Brenda had faced through their puzzling relationship, he was content to have her around; she would always be a true friend.
"Don't worry. Owens won't keep you waiting."
"What you say about her better be right." Minho said, patting Thomas on the back in a brotherly hug. "I mean it, shank."

Thomas turned to Aris then, who reached out and shook his hand with a firm shake.
"Be safe, Thomas." His voice was filled with more emotion than usual.
"Thanks, Aris."
"Thomas," A female orderly called from the hospital's waiting room. "We're ready."
Suddenly his heart pumped with more frightened anticipation than it had all that morning. Though one last look at his friends relinquished the tension, if only momentarily. Thomas followed after the orderly, peeking behind him for the briefest second as he disappeared behind the door, into the operation room.

He was asked to change into a patternless, plain white gown. As he walked back into the operation room, Doctor Owens waved him over. "How are you feeling?" Her voice was muffled by the mask, but Thomas was on edge and his hearing was sharper than usual. "I'm okay. Nervous, honestly."
Owens pulled on her blue gloves that coincidentally matched the rest of her scrubs. "Don't be. We have the best doctors in practically all of the world here--" she gestured at the team of men and women around her, who Thomas had acknowledged --"everything is going to be just fine."

"Thomas, you can come lie down now."
Thomas turned towards the voice behind him, and small, dark eyes met his. Instantly Thomas realized it was Doctor Wells. Especially from the man's innumerable forehead lines. If the mask hadn't been covering his face, Thomas would've recognized the man just from his wrinkled smile alone. He followed the doctor to the operating table.

Thomas sucked in a quick breath as he slid his back down against the steely cold table. All around him doctors began to buzz, wheeling in IV poles, sterilizing the already-sterilized needles. Someone had activated what Thomas guessed was the blood cell regenerating machine. It was giant, and gray, and loud. The thrum resonated throughout the room, even drowning out the continual beeps and buzzes from the monitors.  

Thomas lay there as everyone threw out orders. An anesthesiologist made brief eye contact with him as he hovered above his face, placing a cupped, plastic mask over Thomas's mouth and nose. "Breathe in for me," the man ordered. Thomas did, all the while watching as Doctor Owens began to insert tubes into his forearm, though he was relieved there was hardly any pain; the anesthesia was working fast. Thomas warred against the effects of the sedatives, but his eyelids became droopy and weak. He registered the mask being lifted off of his face, though he was unable to move, already fading into a black abyss of induced sleep.

"Machine's ready--let's do this quickly. We don't want him going into too much shock." That was Doctor Owens. And those were the last words Thomas comprehended before fully embracing his inevitable slumber.