Chapter 3

228.05.12 / 11:36 a.m.

After working all morning on the Maze, hunched over your keyboard since six a.m., helping a group of your co-workers program a particularly stubborn maze wall that refused to move when it was supposed to, and a few hours overtime before the damn thing decided to work, you were finally released to lunch. The guard at the door held it open for you and you tore down the hall to the cafeteria, already fifteen minutes late. Bursting through the heavy metal doors, you grabbed a tray with a turkey sandwich and some opaque container of liquid and dodged between boys milling about, making your way to the table you and your friends usually sat at.

You spotted Minho, Thomas, and Teresa gathered together whispering about something, and slipped in across from them, Minho to your right.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up!" Minho laughed, slapping you hard on the back. You shot him a glare as you unwrapped your sandwich.

"They made me stay until we got the wall working," you grumbled. "I swear, half those adults are complete nimrods. They act as if the Flare's already eaten half their brain. It's ridiculous." Thomas laughed loudly across from you.

"Yeah, they've made me and Teresa program every bit of the sky. Have you seen it? It looks incredible, and they've offered no help whatsoever," he said with a grin. "We just have to remember, we're the smart ones."

The group erupted into laughter again, stopping only when two more people sat down to join them. Newt appeared to your left, setting down his tray lightly, and Chuck behind him, who had filled his tray to the brim and was smiling excitedly.

"Wow, Newt," you said as he settled himself down, "how does it feel to be even later than me?"

Newt rolled his eyes and pinched open a carton of juice. "I overslept," he said defensively, "They woke me up at five a.m. to move some parts inside before the sun rose, so I managed to get in a short nap. I've never been so bloody tired in my life."

Newt worked outside most of the time, helping move and build things. He was skinny but apparently stronger than he looked, and great with his hands. You had a few classes, together, but WICKED had enrolled him in more building classes so he could hone his skills.

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm. "It must be nice outside that early. Not as hot, maybe some wind."

"Jesus, you make it sound like a picnic."

"I don't know about you kids, but I'd give my arm and a leg to work at a computer rather than under the hot sun," Minho said. "Those chairs must be lined by baby lamb asses or something."

"Tell that to my back," you grumbled, and Thomas nodded knowingly.

"It's not as great as you make it sound," he agreed.

Minho stuffed a bite of burger into his mouth. "And the outdoors aren't all fun and games either," he said, voice muffled by food. "You pansies wouldn't last a week out there. The first month, I had blisters the size of a Berg."

"Yeah, well, I'm not risking it. I'd rather face ten grievers than those awful Crank pits again," you muttered, making a face. Everyone shivered, each sharing the same unpleasant memory of that damp, dark hole, filled with screams of anguish. Barely human. Those bloodshot eyes and shredded, screaming faces had lingered in the back of your mind for years -- WICKED had definitely got the 'don't wander outside again without permission' message across.

"Well, that's not going to happen again," Newt said confidently. "Just ask the guards on some of your time off. They'll take you outside."

You shrugged halfheartedly. "Maybe. They spotted a Crank wandering around a few weeks ago. Shot it on the spot, obviously, but they're becoming more wary about letting people outside."

Newt raised an eyebrow and a tuft of blonde hair fell into his eyes. "How do you know that?"

"The idiots in my control room can't keep their mouths shut," you told him with a wink. "Usually annoying, but it's useful every so often."

Newt gave you a warm smile that sent something fluttering in the pit of your stomach and you returned it tentatively.

"At least it's air-conditioned in here," Chuck piped up, and your smile stretched wider as you turned to look at the kid. He always seemed to find the good bits of life at WICKED, and more often than not, the group was thankful for it.

"It's true," Teresa agreed. "Things could be a lot worse. We could be dead, or be running around, half out of our minds. At least we're alive and we have food and beds -- and we're doing good work."

Teresa, on the other hand, never seemed to hesitate to defend WICKED. It was true, you had food and shelter, but then you would picture your father, his face blurry and out of focus in your mind after so many years and anger would bubble up in your chest.

In fact, you couldn't even be sure if he was still alive.

You finished your food without much more conversation, Minho tossing around a few jokes, but the tension in the air didn't lessen in the slightest. Despite the banter you and your friends would share, it didn't distract from the fact that you were prisoners -- never allowed to leave, subject to whatever WICKED decided was best.

After lunch, your group broke for a while, each seeming to come to an unspoken agreement that they needed space to sort through their thoughts. You announced that you were going to head to the gym to burn off some much-needed steam. They bid you goodbye, promising to regroup after dinner, and you turned on your heel and walked quickly away, getting about halfway through the room before you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, wait," a voice said behind you. The accent was enough to give him away immediately.

"Newt," you said, turning around. "What?"

"Let me come with you. These buggin' legs haven't seen real exercise since the maze walls were finished and you brainiacs took over with the programming." He gave you a playful smile, and you just nodded.

"Yeah, sure, Newt. Let me just go get changed. I'll meet you at the gym." You broke away from him and continued to your room, already feeling a little more uplifted.

Once in your room, you changed into leggings and a t-shirt, both black because God forbid WICKED gave anyone something colored to wear, and speed-walked down to the gym. WICKED had three total, but only one you were allowed in, saying the other two were for employees only (to which you'd argue that you were employees, but you knew that was a joke. You'd never been treated the same as the adults that worked there before you guys came). It was nice though, with different weight machines and treadmills and little speakers on the ceiling that played quiet music.

Newt was already there, towards the back on a treadmill. You joined him at a slow jog, neither of you speaking for a long while. When you kicked the speed up to four, reaching over to attach a heart rate monitor to your chest, Newt broke the silence.

"Do you think Teresa really loves it here?" he asked, sort of quiet and breathless, though he'd only just started running. You felt your heart sink.

"I think it's the only home she's ever known," you told him truthfully, readjusting to your earlier pace. "It's the same for all of us."

Again, silence stretched between you.

"I remember my parents."

This time you turned to look at Newt wearily.

"Yeah, Newt, we all do, a little bit."

"I remember WICKED shot them in front of me and Lizzy," he said more firmly, gripping the handles of the treadmill so that his knuckles turned white.

"I know Newt," you almost whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Lizzy was Newt's younger sister -- renamed Sonya by WICKED, though you knew Newt would rather fling himself into a pit of Cranks than ever call her by that. She was in group B's barracks. A nice girl, rather quiet and sort of shy. They'd meet up every so often, under the cover of darkness, just so he could pull her into a hug and hold her there until you or Thomas pulled him away and led him back to his room.

You turned the speed up to 7, picking up your feet and tucking your arms in close to your sides. Breathe in through your nose. Out through your mouth.

"Do you ever wonder what happened to your father?" he asked suddenly, glancing over at you. You hardened your gaze and didn't return the look.

"He's working up there, somewhere. Maybe on the maze. Maybe on a cure. It doesn't really matter."

You'd known Newt for years, and he understood you didn't like to discuss your father, or he his past. He'd never pushed for information.

You upped the speed to 9 and left it there.

"I just think... I think that WICKED has so much they haven't told us. Things they're hiding, and don't want us to find out about. It doesn't matter if they gave us bloody food and beds if their ultimate intentions aren't for our own good."

You and Thomas had similar conversations about the subject, but considering your positions at the moment, there wasn't a whole lot you could do about it.

"Like what happens when the maze is finished?" you asked shortly. Newt nodded.

"But they know we're not idiots," he added. "They want to test our 'killzones? (he put this word in air quotes) By stimulating our brains with variables? They have to know what we suspect."

You glanced down at your feet as you ran, churning your thoughts over in your head. "It doesn't look so bad though, sometimes, does it?" Newt tilted his head in confusion and you tried to clarify. "The Homestead? It's big and grassy and there are trees and a sky. When was the last time you saw real trees and grass Newt?"

Newt huffed. "It's not real, though is it?" he shot back. "It's WICKED's programming, and ours. All of it."

You wiped away the sweat the dripped into your eyes. "I know."

Quiet orchestral music drifted over to you from the speakers, sounded muted and weak, but there. The treadmills groaned a little every time you set your foot down. Machinery groaned on the floor above your heads.

"So, how's Lizzy?" Newt asked with a smile. You knew he didn't expect an answer.

"She's... Lizzy," you answered because that was about all you were allowed to say.

Going between group A and B had its responsibilities. One of which was that you were never allowed to get your signals crossed. Each barrack was to remain separate, and there were to be no updates under any conditions. You'd learned that the hard way.

225.05.30 / 6:47 p.m.

You'd just come from your last class of the day, calculus with Mrs. Marsh, a tray of food in your hands, and sat down beside Minho, who was picking at his mashed potatoes moodily.

"What's up?" you'd asked him gently. He'd just gestured with his head to his right, where Newt was sitting a few seats away, head in his hands. Without hesitation, you stood up and walked over to him, setting a soft hand on his shoulder. He jumped a little at your touch, head shooting up, but didn't say anything.

"You alright, Newt?" you whispered. "What's wrong?"

After a minute of silence, he'd croaked out, "Lizzy."

"Who?"

His shoulders trembled a little.

"My sister."

"You mean Sonya?"

A this, his head shot up, eyes wild and angry. "No," he hissed. "That's not her name. That's the name these bastards a WICKED gave her not her parents."

You lifted your hands up in surrender and nodded understandingly. "Got it," you said. "What about her?"

He groaned. "I haven't seen her in so long. I'm so bloody worried about her. What if they tortured her with her new name like they did the rest of us? What if she's falling behind in her classes and WICKED has no need for her? What if she gets thrown to the Cranks?"

You gave him a sad smile and pulled him into a hug, which he returned gratefully.

"She's fine," you said, thinking back to your roommate. "Top of our math class, actually. Misses you a lot, but she has faith in you. She's doing fantastic, I've heard our teachers say it."

Newt finally raised his head, eyes wide and curious, and smiled softly.

"Really?"

"Really."

Your heart melted a little as his expression dissipated into one of happiness and relief.

"Thank you so much, (Y/N)."

You just nodded and the two of you walked back to the table to finish your food, talking and chatting, until Minho, staring up uncomfortably, nudged you in the ribs. Standing above you, were two massive guards, and still being fairly small, they looked like giants.

"Miss, you're going to have to come with us," the man on the right said. You didn't move, eyeing the gun strapped to his belt. Newt was frozen to your right, but reached down to clench your hand in his.

"W-what for?" you stuttered. Without an answer, the women stalked over and grabbed you forcibly by the arm, dragging you away from the table. Minho yelled at them angrily, and Newt shot from his seat, screaming.

"Wait!" he shouted. "You can't take her!" He grabbed your other hand, but the male guard shoved him off and onto the ground easily. The last thing you saw before you rounded the corner was him picking himself off the ground, staring back at you in dismay.

They took you down hallway after hallway, stopping finally at a tall door, which the woman unlocked with her ID, and they dragged you inside.

They strapped you to a chair and then stood back as another figure brushed past them, an air of authority about her.

"Well, (Y/N)," Doctor Paige said, hands behind her back. "I expected this to happen sooner or later."

"What to happen?" you snapped, struggling against the straps that bound your arms to the sides of the chair.

"When you came here, and we gave you housing and a job, we made it abundantly clear you would not mix the two," she said, pacing. "They are separate things and need to remain seperate if our variables are going to remain untainted. You've just compromised one of those variables."

"You mean telling my friend that his sister isn't dead?" you spat. Doctor Paige raised an eyebrow in what seemed to be amusement, then hung her head.

"I was hoping you were smarter than this," she muttered, more to herself than anything else.

Before you could open your mouth again, Paige gestured to something behind you, and you felt the prick of a needle in the side of your neck.

"I hate to do this, but we've got to teach you never to do something that rash again," she said, backing up.

You turned your head to look behind you, but the instant you moved, you felt a jolt of something white-hot cascade through your body. Your arms and legs convulsed, seeming on fire, and your eyes rolled back. You heard distant screaming, not knowing if it was yours or not before your mind shut off and saved you.

When you awoke, all you felt was tingling, every inch of skin buzzed with the lingering pain. Sweat soaked your back and stuck you to the chair, sliding down your temples, and a headache raged behind your eyes.

"You need to know that that was wrong," someone whispered in your ear. You couldn't even speak before the pain came again, harder and faster, and you blacked out before you could barely register the agony.

"Are you sorry yet?"

"Y-yes," you sniffled.

"Good, now just one more to remember me by."

228.05.12 / 1:24 p.m.

Newt tossed you a towel, which you let drape around your neck, and tipped his head back to down a bottle of water.

"That was nice," he sighed, tossing the bottle to you and wiping his mouth. You drunk until you were full, and stepped back to lean against the wall.

"Agreed."

After that night, so many years ago, a rift formed between you and Newt. You'd never given him details, but he knew they'd done something, and never asked for information about his sister again, choosing instead to cling to what little you'd given him.

The two of you walked out into the empty hallway, cold air rushing over your face. You sighed and tilted your head back.

"I guess I'll see you at dinner?" Newt asked, brushing his hair back against his sweaty forehead. "I'd give you a hug, but I smell."

You laughed and slapped him on the back. "Dinner then."

And then he was gone, and you walked back alone to shower and head to the cafeteria.