Nine | FIRST LOVE, LATE SPRING
Day Fifty Seven
No one spoke as they made their way down the old wooden steps and into the courtyard, over to the kitchen and seating area. James immediately vanished over to the stove to start cooking up something that instantly smelled amazing, and when Ada collapsed into her seat she realised the coma nap she took in the hammock did very little to help her tiredness.
"Ada, mate, what happened out there?" Charles asked. Every single piece of the night she had been blocking out for the last few hours slammed into her, leaving her nauseous and shaky.
"We got attacked. By one of those monster things."
Alby let out a shaky breath and leant forward, eyes intense. "What did they look like? What did they do?"
Bulbous and misshapen, it's body seemed to belong like something out of a nightmare. "It was... big." Its flesh — if it could be called that — was a rotten looking green, chunks torn out of it exposing black muscle and sludge. "Like something out of a nightmare, really." Its mouth was gaping and lined with rows upon rows of dagger-like teeth, each a horrible greyish yellow that leaked drool and mucus onto the stone at its feet. "It was like it was half monster, half machinery. These great big metal legs, sharp as a dagger. Beady eyes... rows and rows of teeth..."
Ada broke off with a shuddering gasp, and Alby reached across as if to take her hand, fingers stopping a mere few inches from hers. "Did it hurt you?"
"Nothing I can't handle." She smiled thinly. "George, on the other hand, appears to be a different story."
"I don't understand." Nick spoke up for the first time since they had sat down. He sat slightly separate from the rest of the group, arms crossed tightly over his chest, expression schooled into a deep frown. "You told us that spending the night in the maze was a death sentence. How'd you manage it and make it out alive?"
Ada considered his words carefully, mind reeling. "Luck, mostly. We hid under the ivy for a while, but I think whatever it was knew we were there."
"What makes you say that?" Charles asked.
"We waited for it to pass, but it must have known we were hiding because the second George left the hiding spot it pounced on him. It was waiting above us." A chill wrapped itself around her spine, rattling through her body. "It was like it was playing with us. Hunting us, actually."
"So these things are smart?" Alby asked, retracting his hand from where it lay beside hers. "That doesn't mean good things for us."
"So how did you guys get away?" Nick raised an eyebrow at her, looking anything but impressed. She didn't know why, but something about the almost patronising way he was looking at her made Ada feel tiny in her blanket, as if she was nothing more than a fascinating specimen to be studied.
"The maze was changing. We lost it down one of the corridors. They can't climb over the walls, apparently. I don't think they're programmed to do that."
"Programmed?" Avin squeaked.
"Man made monsters." Alby muttered. "So whoever put us here made them and is controlling them. Bastards."
"Couldn't agree more." A voice chimed in from behind them, and when Ada turned it was to find George standing there, leaning heavily on Connor. His arm was covered in bandages and strapped tightly to his chest, and his face was ashen, dark bags splotching under his eyes. Thin black veins twined their way up his neck and onto his right cheek.
"George." Alby straightened, wincing apologetically at the bruising spreading across George's jaw from where his fist had landed earlier. "How you feeling, man?"
"Been better." George huffed. "Don't know what the hell's wrong with me."
"We'll figure it out."
George scoffed. Ada raised her right hand, hovering it over his shoulder, close enough to feel the heat of his skin warming her palm. "We will, George. We'll fix you." She smiled at him, eyes shining. "I promise."
George's entire face crumbled, eyes slamming shut. "Yeah... right."
"Okay," James wandered over, two piping hot bowls in his hands, steam billowing off the top of the red liquid inside. Ada's stomach turned, noting its resemblance to blood. The fierce aching in her stomach was angry enough for her to snatch the bowl the second it was in front of her and lift it to her lips immediately. The soup burned as it went down, but she didn't stop. "Oh damn." He raised his eyebrows at her. "I see my soup is popular."
"I haven't eaten in, like, two days James, shut the hell up." Ada raised her middle finger at him.
George, however hungry he must have been, merely stirred the contents of his bowl around with the spoon, staring down at it with a repulsed expression.
James' smile dropped. "Or not."
"You should eat something, George." Connor said patiently.
"Not hungry."
"Connor's right, you need to build your strength up again-"
"I said I'm not hungry."
Ada frowned at the fissure of rage that had begun to creep its way into George's voice. The muscles in his shoulders were rigid. "George?"
The bowl clattered angrily to the table, thick red spilling out of it and sloshing onto the wood. Avin jolted violently beside her in shock. "Shut up!" George hurled the spoon across the table. "Shut the hell up!"
"George-"
"I don't want the stupid soup; I don't want any of this!"
Ada and Alby shared alarmed glances over the table. One of Alby's hands vanished under the table, and she knew without looking that his fingers had closed around the hilt of the dagger strapped to his side.
"George, man-"
"No! NO! This is such complete and utter bullshit!" George's fist slammed down on the table, and Ada watched as the rough splinters tore at his knuckles and drew blood. "JUST BECAUSE SOME GODDAMN SCIENTISTS DECIDED TO MAKE US THEIR OWN PERSONAL EXPERIMENT-"
Ada blanched. Scientists? Personal experiment?
Nick gulped, straightening in his chair. "You remember-?"
"I'M GONNA KILL THEM! I'M GONNA KILL THEM ALL!" George lunged for the dagger Ada had placed on the table beside her, hurtling it at the beetle blade on the table next to them, yelling furiously. It skittered away before it could be hit, hissing mechanically at them, before it dove under the table out of sight. George let out a cry of pure fury, his voice echoing across the glade, and it was all Ada could do not to just stare at him in bewilderment.
"Alby, do something!"
"The hell do you want me to do, he's unhinged!"
Connor grabbed George's arm, wrestling it down to his side, and was closely followed by James. Together, they wrestled George down onto the grass, waving Avin over to come and sit on his legs so that he would stop thrashing and bucking. "George, man, you gotta calm down."
Nick's hand tightened over the slab of wood they were using as a chopping board, clearly ready to use it if need be.
"Do we sedate him again?" Ada asked.
"I don't think that's a good idea. It clearly didn't do anything to help." James said sadly. "His skin conditions gotten worse."
Now that George was immobile on the floor, Ada could see that the black veins had spread from his neck and now wound their way under his eyes, paling the skin and stretching it tight against the bone. The veins were alive almost, throbbing and pulsing beneath the skin. Black blood dribbled down George's chin.
"Lift his shirt." Ada said suddenly, and Alby hastened to comply. The muscles on George's stomach bunched and shifted as he thrashed against their grip, but it was the wound on his side that caught her attention. Somehow, it had gotten worse. The veins spanned his entire torso, and the skin around the wound was no longer grey, but a mottled blue, clumped with black blood and puffy irritated welts.
"Did that monster thing do something to him?"
"Must have. I don't see what else could have happened."
"Let me go, let me go!"
"George-"
"Alby, please." George's voice lowered to a desperate whisper as he stopped thrashing. His chest rose and fell in heavy pants as his head thudded back against the floor, eyes swimming with tears. "Please just let me go."
Holding her breath, Ada inched closer to him. She lowered herself to her knees when she reached his side, eyes fixed on his ashen face. It was as if the fight had suddenly drained out of him, as if a balloon had been popped and was left lying sad and deflated on the ground. "George?"
George winced.
"George." She said his name again, firmer this time. He finally looked at her, but his eyes were filled with so much pain it took her breath away. "Oh, George. It's okay."
"S'not."
"Yes, it is." Avin encouraged, climbing off his legs. He slowly reached forward to pat him on the arm soothingly. "You'll be fine, promise. Just gotta figure out what's wrong with you is all."
"It got me." George said sadly. "The needle. I tried not to let it get near me but that thing was gonna kill you." He turned his face towards Ada, helpless agony written out in his eyes. "I couldn't let it kill you. Not you. Never you."
Tears blurred her vision. "You got me out of there, George. You did it. You saved me. Now we're gonna save you, okay? Let us save you."
There was a moment of silence before George nodded, blinking tears out of his eyes. His head fell back against the grass; from here, Ada could see a thousand rays from the dying sun reflected in his tears, drowning in the black abyss that was his pupils.
"It's getting late." Alby said softly, and indeed the sky was starting to purple like a bruise, fissures of darkness creeping their way in. George watched them slither across the sky, watched the sun inch closer to the walls, burning furiously before it would inevitably vanish, leaving them in the dark. "We should head inside, try and get some sleep. I don't think any of us slept properly last night. We can start working on fixing George in the morning?"
George's head rose weakly. "I don't want to be in the homestead."
"George..." Ada sighed, but he cut her off before speaking.
"I don't wanna be in there. If I go nuts again I could hurt one of you guys. I won't do that. You're my family, if I hurt you, I don't-"
"Okay." Nick said softly. One of his hands rose to cup George's uninjured shoulder, his thumb rubbing small circles into his shirt. "Okay, George. It's fine. Where do you wanna sleep? The med wing?"
"No, it's too close."
"We could-"
"Tie me up." George said suddenly, staring miserably at the treeline to the forest. "Tie me up. To the tree."
Ada sucked in a sharp breath. "George we aren't doing that."
"Do it. Do it or I'll hurt you, I know I will. I don't trust myself, and you shouldn't either, so do it."
"George-"
"It's just one night, right?" Alby said, eyes calculating as he stared at the tree. "Then we can fix him tomorrow."
"I'll stay with you." Avin said quietly.
"No, kiddo, it's too much of a risk." George reached up and weakly ruffled his hair, smiling a pain-filled grimace. "You go get yourself in bed."
"But-"
"One night." Connor said firmly, looking George dead in the eyes. "One night, and then we fix you."
—
"You comfy?" Alby asked, tightening the ropes around George's wrists. He was positioned with his back against the tree, the rope secured tightly around his chest and waist. Ada and Alby had tried fruitlessly to tell him it was overkill, but George was adamant to the point of near violence. Eventually, they had figured it was better to do as he wished for one night and then return to usual tomorrow.
"Comfy enough." George huffed, his face twisted in distaste. "Can you tighten it on my arm a little? I can slip out of this easy."
Ada sighed. "George, I don't know, it's gonna hurt. Your shoulder-"
"Do it, Alby."
Ada and Alby shared a tense look, before she reluctantly nodded and left him to it. Avin shifted uncomfortably on the grass beside them. It was just those four now, the others having bid them goodnight already and retreated inside.
Something about it felt personal: they were the original four, two members down, sat huddled together under a tree, one of them so injured he could hardly breathe.
"Is this smart?" Avin asked. "You don't look good, George. You need medical help, chaining you to a tree seems kind of counterproductive."
"Kid's got a point." Ada agreed. "I know you don't wanna hurt us, but I don't feel right about doing this."
"Ada," George said softly, turning to face her. His left hand, resting against the ground, flattened, his fingers reaching towards hers. Slowly, she reached across and closed the distance between their hands, the tip of her index finger pressing firmly against his. "Look at me. I can't take the risk of lashing out and hurting any of you. You guys are all I have, you're my entire life. If there's even the smallest chance of me hurting you I'm gonna do everything possible to make sure that doesn't happen."
"I'll stay with you then."
"Did you hear literally anything I just said?" He chuckled, but his eyes were serious. "I'm serious now, okay? I want you all to go inside, and stay there. No matter what you hear. No matter what I say. Stay there until morning."
"George-"
"Promise me."
Alby let out a heavy breath, before he nodded. "I promise."
"Good. Go on, it's late. You should head inside."
"You sure you're gonna be okay out here?" Ada asked as she studied the thick ropes and the awkward way to which George was secured to the tree. She put the flaming torch in the grass beside him, leaving it far enough away that he couldn't grab it and burn off the ropes, or hurt himself worse than he already was.
"Sure I will. This is dead comfortable." He grinned, winking cheekily. His face was almost ghostly white in the moonlight.
"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
George stayed silent.
"George." Alby said sternly. "We'll see you tomorrow, all right?"
"Right. Sure. Tomorrow."
Alby shook his head, clasping Avin's shoulder and leading them from the clearing, making their way back to the homestead. As he passed her, he smiled softly at Ada, jerking his head towards where George was sat on the floor. "Say goodnight." He said softly, and then he was gone, leaving her and George alone in the field.
"I don't need a babysitter, Ada." George said patiently, watching her with cloudy eyes. The pain was starting to get to him again, it was obvious. Ada swallowed down the lump in her throat and crossed her arms.
"You sure bout that? You haven't exactly been the picture of responsibility lately."
"Says the biggest troublemaker I know. Who was it that got us trapped in the maze again?" Though his tone was teasing, George's words felt like ice cold water splashing down on her, and the guilt was quick to drown her.
"I'm so sorry."
"Oh, hey, no." George's tone was soft, and when he tilted his head back to look up at her his eyes were so impossibly sad. "You gotta know I don't blame you for this. I don't care what I said before when I was... I don't care what I said before, I don't blame you. I could never, okay?"
"You should. It's my fault."
"Not really. I wanted to be in the maze that day. I was there by my own doing. You couldn't have known what would happen, Ada."
"Yeah... right."
"Ads." George said, the nickname making her look up sharply at him. She couldn't remember the last time she had a nickname. He was looking at her as if she was the most precious thing in the world right then, as if her understanding and accepting his words was the most important thing in the universe. "This was not your fault. I was not your fault. Ada I need you to know that. I need you to know that no matter what happens to me you are not to blame."
The tears were threatening to choke her, but she couldn't have looked away from him if her life had depended on it. "You promise?"
"I promise. I swear it, in fact."
Ada smiled softly. "I'll see you in the morning George."
"See you in the morning." As she turned to leave, his voice called out to her. "Hey Ada?"
"Yeah?"
"Love you."
She scoffed. "Night, dork."
For as long as she lived she would always regret not saying it back.
—
The screams started at midnight.
They began as quiet whimpers, barely audible from her hammock in the back corner of the homestead. From here, if she turned her back to the wall she could barely make out the flickering light of George's torch in the distance.
But then the whimpers turned to cries, and the cries to screams, until George's pain was all she could hear. Avin slept on beside her, but she could see that Alby was awake, tossing and turning in his bunk. Charles, Nick, James, and Connor were somewhere to her left, but she didn't know if they were awake or sleeping. It was too dark to tell.
Countless times she stood, kicking her feet into her boots, when Alby would reach out and stop her. "It's not what he wants" he would say, and she would look at the tears in his eyes and give in, rolling back into her hammock.
She was staring at the ceiling in the dark, squinting to make out the cracks in the wood, when the screams stopped.
One second it was all she could hear, and the next her ears were ringing in the abrupt silence. It came out of nowhere, and it was deafening.
She didn't know why, but she had never been more afraid of silence in her entire life.
--
Morning came at last, bringing light to the dark in a dizzying haze of orange and red before a pale blue broke out across the sky, chasing away the stars. Ada watched them slowly flicker and die out from her hammock, lying flat on her back and listening to the steady breathing of the boys around her.
The silence in the glade was broken only by their scattered huffs of air and the almost manufactured sound of the crickets that chirped somewhere from the treeline. She strained her ears to see if she could hear George moving, but there was only silence. Perhaps he was still asleep, or the pain from his injuries had stolen away his consciousness. She wasn't sure which.
Eventually, the stillness had ground its way under her skin and become unbearable. Moving slowly so as to not alert the others, she slipped out of the hammock and into her boots, grabbing the bandages and water they had left on the side the night before. Ada glanced once behind her at Alby, but his form was still, asleep, the only movement the steady rise and fall of his chest. Even in sleep his muscles were tensed, primed for a fight.
Walking through the glade by herself was eerie. It was still dark enough for her to feel on edge, for the torch in her hand to be necessary. The beams of light swept across the ground, picking up the dew on the grass and making the droplets of water sparkle in the dawn.
"Hey George, I'm back." She called out into the tree line. She couldn't see him yet, but he had to have heard her. She frowned when he didn't answer. Maybe he's still asleep. "I brought bandages, that shoulder of yours must be killing you right now."
When he still didn't answer, Ada huffed and made her way further into the tree-line, letting the darkness swallow her. "George? You awake?"
Silence.
"Cmon, George, wake up. It's sunrise, time to get going." The further she walked in the more she realised that she wasn't seeing light from the torch they had left him with. In fact, the entire forest was still untouched by light, natural or otherwise. It was so dark, so oppressive, it was hard to believe anyone but herself was there at all. "George?"
Fear began to curl itself around her chest in tight tendrils, growing thorns that dug into her lungs and stole the breath from her.
"George? You still there?"
What if he had gotten out? What if that side of him had taken over again and he was somewhere out there, waiting to hurt her?
"George? This isn't funny."
Her eyes landed on the torch they had left for him at last, but it had fallen over on the grass, snuffed out. The chains were still wrapped around the tree, she could make out their bulky shape in the dark, and there leaning against the trunk was a slumped figure.
"Oh thank god, I thought you'd gone somewhere." Ada laughed, itching her way closer. She could see that George's head was slumped against his chest, his arms limp at his sides. Sighing, she turned the torch onto his form, and let the light wash over his limp form.
The breath left her lungs in a violent sweep.
George was slumped against the tree, indeed, but the trunk of the tree behind him was drenched with blood. It trickled down from the bark, down the back of his neck, soaking his shoulders and upper back. The material of his white shirt clung to him, sticky with blackish red. His hair had chunks missing, as if bits had caught on the rough surface behind him, and the entire back of his hair was clotted with blood.
As if he had smashed his head back into the tree so many times he could no longer remain standing.
Ada let out half a sob and collapsed to her knees beside him, shaking hands reaching out to grab at his chin; to lift his head or check his pulse, she didn't know, all she knew was that she needed to see his face, needed to know what her brain was struggling to figure out.
Because she knew damn well a person couldn't lose that much blood and survive. But he couldn't be dead. He couldn't be.
He had promised them tomorrow.
The tip of her shaking finger touched his cheek, and Ada choked at the ice cold that met her. Slowly, oh so slowly, she reached out and, ignoring the rolling in her stomach, lifted George's head.
The veins had spread to cover every inch of his face, black and rigid beneath his taut skin. Black blood dribbled from his lips, drenching his chin, rolling in thick globs down his neck where they had dried at his collarbone. His eyes were glassy in a way they shouldn't be, glazed over with tears that wouldn't spill, his pupils enlarged and iris's pale in comparison to the bloodshot edges. His brown curls stuck to his forehead with blood.
Ada let out a trembling whimper, her heart hammering beneath her rib cage. It was ironic, she supposed, that her heart was beating so fast when she had a sickening suspicion that his wasn't beating at all.
"Please, no, please not him." Begging with a God she didn't believe in, she lowered her fingers to the side of his neck, wincing as they glided through the slick blood that rested there. Pressing them against the vein there, black and ropey beneath her fingers, she waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Her scream of pure anguish woke the others from their sleep.
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