Chapter Seven

A/N:

Hey, I'm back!

I just got The Fever Code for Christmas and I'm super excited to read it!!! Though I know it's going to depress me later... OH WELL

Anywho, in the media is a picture of what I intended for Mal to look like, portrayed by Selena Gomez.

I hope you like this chapter, and if you do, please give it a vote and offer some feedback! Thanks!!

Amanda :)

__________

It was a chilly evening in the Glade that night. The sky had dimmed into a dark gray-blue, cooling the thick concrete walls of the Maze and the rest of the Glade. As the Gladers lit the torches to brighten up the land, Mal stood helplessly at the Box, trying to process her feelings all at once. Yeah, she got promoted to Med-jack, but shouldn't she be in school, learning how to drive, exploring the real world?

Did that world still exist?

An hour had passed since the Doors closed. Mal breathed in the cold air and sighed it out.

"Hey Mallie, ain't you freezin'?" called a voice from not so far behind. Mal knew it was Newt, for he was the one who started calling her "Mallie" ever since supper.

"Kinda . . . in more ways than one."

"It gets chilly at night sometimes," Newt generally stated, then said, "C'mon, let's get you in the Homestead before you catch pneumonia and die on us. We wouldn't want that!"

Make giggled slightly. "Yeah . . . Hey," she looked out toward the walls of the Maze, "The walls are so big. Has anyone ever tried climbing them up?"

Newt sighed—Mal was never going to give up trying to escape, no matter how many times he'd tell her it was completely impossible. "Yeah, but the ivy doesn't go all the way to the top."

"But what if we built a huge ladder? Grab all the supplies we need and—"

"We'd have no living quarters. The Creators only bring us so much supplies."

"Well, what if we—"

"Besides, where would you go from there?" Newt hushed her, and Mal huffed.

"Well . . ." She glanced at the floor below her and viewed the Box. Becoming slightly cheery again, Mal continued, "What if when the next time the Box brings us supplies, we send someone down and see where it—"

"Tried that, too," Newt said dully again. "Tried sending a slinthead Greenie back in the Box one time, and the thing wouldn't move till we took him out."

Mal groaned, "Ugh, there's gotta be a way! There's—"
"Look Greenie, whatever you've thought of and will think of, we've already tried. Nothing works," Newt claimed matter-of-factly. "We just have to run the Maze."

"Fine," Mal suddenly spat and spun on her heel, "If that's the only way to get out of this dump, then so be it. Mark my words, Newt: I myself will run through that Maze one way or another, and there will be no one who will want to stop me, unless they want their groin kicked."

"I believe you," Newt said, "but it's not gonna happen with Nick in charge."

"We'll see about that," Mal smirked, spinning on her heel and heading for the Homestead.

To himself, Newt mumbled, "That girl has no idea what she wants to get into."

__________

The next day, Mal was treating people with Clint and Jeff when someone she didn't want to see knocked on the door.

"Come in!" Clint called, and Gally entered the medical room, a little shy of his busted hand.

"Great, the Captain has arrived to hand us some orders," Mal grumbled playfully.

"Somebody just help me so I can get out of here and back to work," Gally said sternly.

As tempted as she was to roll her eyes, Mal focused on her patient and told Gally, "Take a seat."

Irritated as he always was, Gally went to the back of the room and sat down at an unoccupied, cushioned medical bench.

With Gally now in the room, the air grew tenser and Jeff and a few others had gotten uncomfortable. But Mal didn't sense it. She didn't know, and was probably about to realize, that Gally was the third subject that the Gladers feared—behind the Grievers and the Creators. He was hot-headed and a slintheaded asshole at its finest, and he just couldn't get along with anyone. It was no wonder that Jeff decided to take his break at this moment and that the other Gladers in medical need were suddenly healed and ready to leave. Even Clint ran out of the room when he was done with his patients to grab a snack from Frypan.

That left Mal alone with her last patient Ben, and Gally. Ben was a Runner who had accidentally tripped over a few stones and stubbed his toe during his journey. Mal was wrapping a bandage over his now-disinfected foot when Gally rudely called, "Hey, Nurse Greenbean, a little help here?"

Mal was annoyed and said, "Shut your pie hole, Gally. I'm almost finished with Ben."

Gally didn't respond.

Mal smiled at Ben after the last bandage was wrapped in his foot. "There, all better! Just try not to bump into anything anymore."

Ben nodded, then left the room as quick as he could with his very slight limp.

Mal sighed and turned to face Gally, who sat in the back of the room, glaring at her with his menacing eyes. "Alrighty, now onto the Grinch."

Unfazed at the name-calling, Gally complained stubbornly, "It's about time."

Rolling her eyes, Mal stood up and walked over to the sink to wash her hands and get any tools she would need to help Gally.

"You do realize they left because of me, right?" Gally randomly stated.

Mal sighed. "Well, in that case, you do realize that I'm the only one who can help you, right?" She glanced over at him with a smile.

"Just hurry up and fix my hand," Gally spat.

"Whatever," Mal said, and she walked over and sat down beside Gally. "Give me your hand."

He held out his left hand and Mal recoiled at the sight of it. "Oh my God, what did you do to it?!" It was swollen and puffy with blisters, looking pretty busted up.

Gally harshly spat, "Nothing. Just fix it."

"Obviously you did something," Mal said and went to touch it for further investigation, but Gally involuntarily moved back. "What, I'm not gonna hurt you!"

It was an odd feeling, but Mal could sense that Gally was feeling sensitive right now, though he was trying to keep cool and act like his normal angry self by yelling at her. "Maybe if you stop looking at it, you'll do your job correctly and actually treat it! Hurry up!"

"I'm trying!" Mal screamed at him. "Just give me your hand!" Then she grabbed his forearm and yanked it toward her, hurriedly applying the sanitizer on it and causing Gally immense pain and stinging.

"OW!" Gally cried out in pain and tried moving away, but Mal kept a firm grip on him as she cleaned his wound.

"Sorry, I'm sorry! I know it hurts, but you have to stay still!" Mal then pulled out the disinfectant and applied that to the wound, which stung Gally at the blisters.

"Are you done yet?!" Gally yelled through the pain.

"No, I need to apply the healing cream!"

"Well hurry up!" Gally yelled impatiently.

"I can't if you keep trying to pull away from me!" Mal screamed at him just as she tightened her grip on his forearm when he tried shifting away slightly. "Just stay still!"

Gally had stopped moving away once Mal brought out the healing cream and started applying it. Mal was more gentle this time, and it was easier to wrap the bandage as well.

"There," Mal said calmly once she finished bandaging his hand. "All better?"

"No," Gally said stubbornly, turning away with an angry look on his face.

"Aw, c'mon. I fixed it."

He didn't say anything but locked the anger on his face.

As much as Mal hated to be near Gally, it was evident that he needed more care. Sighing, she told the stubborn Glader in a calm voice, "Listen, it's busted up pretty bad, so it's best that you stay here for the rest of the day. Just lie down and keep quiet. Elevate your hand, I'll give you a pillow."

She stood up to retrieve a pillow for him, and that was when Gally finally spoke. "I don't want your charity, I need to go to work. The rest of the Builders don't know what they're doing without my—"

"I said, lie down!" Mal scolded him as she spun on her heel. Gally shut his mouth right then and there but couldn't resist grumbling to himself as he lied himself down on the medical bench.

"Now, keep quiet and elevate your hand on this," she ordered as she gave him the pillow. "You're lucky I didn't leave you like the rest of them—at least I helped your stubborn butt."

When she walked away, Mal heard Gally call for her. "Hey, Greenie?" It was softer than usual, and Mal glanced over at him from washing her hands at the sink. "Thanks," Gally apologized reluctantly.

Mal couldn't help but slightly smirk—she knew there was some sort of soft side to him. "Don't mention it," she responded, looking away and going on to some other business.

Quietness had fallen over the medical room and Mal was deep in thought as she was cleaning the countertops. Being alone with a boy—and not just any boy, it was Gally—was slowly making her self-consciousness rise. Mal knew that the Gladers hadn't seen a girl until she had arrived. Well, what if she was an ugly girl? What if she was pretty? The thought of not knowing her appearance bothered Mal, and being surrounded by all those guys and having to deal with all their immature comments about her made Mal feel like she was actually ugly.

"Hey, be honest with me," Mal found herself wondering to Gally, and she turned to face him. "What do I look like to you?"

Awkward, Gally made a face. "A girl."

Mal scoffed. "I know that, but give me some details. I haven't gotten a good look at myself since . . . since I don't know when." She pursed her lips, looking down at the counter in thought before shyly looking over at Gally and repeating her initial question. "What do I look like to you?"

Gally sighed with a little annoyance, but he answered her. "Uhm . . . Dark hair, brown eyes . . . Short." He paused and thought for a moment. "Round face, thin . . . You're actually, uh," he cleared his throat and mumbled awkwardly, "kind of pretty."

"Kind of?" Mal joked in a loud voice. "Well, thank you. I suppose I should say you don't look like a bucket of klunk yourself," she smirked playfully.

"Thanks," Gally muttered dully, then he sat up on the medical bench and groaned, "Can I leave now?"

"No," Mal stated matter-of-factly, "You need to rest and avoid anything that can hurt your hand further."

Gally groaned and lied back down. He turned his body away from Mal so that his back was facing her, and the room had gone quiet.

Mal glanced out the window. The sky was dimming slightly, and the hustle and bustle in Frypan's kitchen was just beginning. It was dinner time.
"Looks like dinner's ready; want me to grab you some—"

Mal was interrupted by the door abruptly falling open and a swarm of Gladers frantically entering the room. They were carrying another Glader with them, who was thrashing and yelling and crying, and they threw him down on the nearest medical bench. At the same time, Clint and Jeff appeared—Jeff grabbing one large shot tubes from the stash in the corner.

Gally had stood up and so did Mal. She was more scared than shocked at the sight: the Glader's skin was puffing and turning green, decorated by open wounds, and his mouth was foaming.

"Oh my God, what happened?!" Mal panicked.

"He's been stung," Gally stated rather bluntly, watching the boy thrash and scream and yell on his bench.

"Oh my God," Mal continued to gawk. It was a horrendous sight, really, and she was expected to help the poor boy.

"Well don't just stand there, do something!" Gally suddenly yelled at her.

"I-I-I don't know what to do!" Mal panicked.

"Greenie, help me hold him down!" Clint begged for her aid, and Mal had to oblige, fear squeezing in her chest as she moved to the sick boy's side.

Clint climbed over the screaming Glader to get a grip on his legs. Mal took the boy by the arm and held him down, as Jeff hurriedly lifted up the boy's shirt, revealing a monstrous gash on his abdomen.
Mal recoiled at the sight and shut her eyes, turning her face away.

"NO! Don't you dare put that thing in me, don't you DARE!" the Glader hollered like a madman, his voice becoming deeper and rougher. His breathing had escalated quickly, and his frantic red eyes met Mal's when she tried looking back.

"You did this," the Glader hissed at her, "I saw! I saw you!" With that, he furiously struggled to get out of her and everyone else's grasp, and he thrusted his body forward, lunging for Mal. In a second he had his sweating palms clamped over her mouth and firmly squeezing her neck, just as Mal's eyes bulged open with fright.

She screamed and tried pulling away, tried ripping off the sick boy's grip, but it was no use. "Stop!" she choked, and that was when she felt someone trying to pull her away.

"YOU DID THIS!" he continued to yell. "YOU DID THIS TO ME!"

"I-I-I'm sorry!" Mal pleaded as she suddenly began choking for oxygen underneath the sick boy's palm over her mouth.

The other Gladers hurried to yank the sick boy off of her. Many of them were shouting things like "Calm down, Evan!" and "Dude, let her go!" Worst of all, Clint had to practically sit on the Glader before he rapidly plunged the shot device into his wound. Almost immediately, the boy's palms fell from Mal's neck, and when he collapsed into a dark sleep, Mal stumbled onto the floor, coughing and choking on the air.

Two strong hands were holding her up, and then came Gally's voice from behind her, "You okay?"

Mal's throat raspy and dry. "H-He was l-literally about to k-kill me," she coughed.

Gally helped her up from the floor. He sighed, looking at the unconscious sick boy on the medical bench. "God dammit, Evan."

Clint was breathing rather quickly. "Should we set him up for Banishment?" he asked Gally.

"B-Banishment?" Mal asked, touching her neck where it hurt.

Gally shook his head as he examined the boy, Evan was apparently his name. "We might have to. Guy's a maniac."

Mal swallowed hard. "Oh God, what did I do?" she asked the remaining Gladers.

"Quiet, Greenie," Gally suddenly snapped at her, then ordered back to Clint, "Strap him up good and just monitor him for now. If he gets any worse, just send him out a half hour before six, and it'll be a done deal. Good that? I'll go tell Nick . . ."

The Keeper of the Med-jacks nodded, but Mal pushed, "Wait, what do you mean by—"

"Not now," Gally simply said to Mal, before leaving the room in a hurry along with the other few Gladers in tow.

All was now quiet—too quiet. Mal kept switching anxious glances between Clint and Jeff's confused, yet serious faces. "What did I do?" Mal found herself asking them. "What did I ever do?"

__________

It was now a half hour before six, and Evan didn't get much better. When he woke up from his coma, he couldn't stop freaking out and thrashing and screaming, and not to forget blaming Mal for whatever in the world she did. The whole situation felt absurd to Mal. What could have she possibly done to impose such terrible harm on this poor boy that she didn't even know? The question boggled her and she was becoming more freaked out as the clock neared five-thirty.

Clint and Jeff along with a few of the big guys brought out Evan on a makeshift stretcher toward the East Door. Strapped by his wrists and ankles, he continued to thrash and scream, but his anger transformed into sadness, as he was crying and begging for mercy to be set free. They were taking him to the East Door, where, strangely, all the Keepers alongside Nick and Alby were aligned in a fashion that made the entrance of the Maze seem like Evan's next destination. Each held a long wooden spear like they were knights bringing a criminal to the death chair.

Banishment, perhaps.

Mal was nervously biting her nails as she stood in the growing crowd outside the East Door. "What's gonna happen to him?" she whispered over to Minho, who was standing beside her with a serious look on his face.

"Put into the Maze," Minho responded calmly.

Mal crinkled her eyebrows. "Why? Shouldn't we just help him recover from that weird sting everyone's been talking about?"

Minho sighed, "Some people can survive a Griever sting and turn out okay, but Evan's one of those who just simply goes crazy. We ain't needin' lunatics in our Glade. I mean, you saw what he did. Shuck it, you were what he did."

Mal purses her lips in embarrassment. "Yeah, let's not talk about that."

"Yeah, we don't need that here . . . Far in bad shape and we can't take care of them no more," Minho stated matter-of-factly.

Mal sighed. "So that's it? We're just gonna send him out there to die?"

"Like I said, kid's crazy. If we kept them all in here, this whole place'd become a looney-ville," Minho stated bluntly, then slightly snickered, "Ya know, we're focusing on a population here, not just one person, Greenie."

Mal pursed her lips in pity. "I know, but I wish there was just some way we could help—"

"LET ME GO!" Evan's high and shrill scream suddenly echoed through the plain, and Mal inched closer to Minho. Inside the crowd, the guys holding Evan up threw him down on the concrete. Hearing and watching the sick yet monstrous boy groan in pain gave Mal chills down her spine.

And that's when she saw it: a spiked collar, wrapped tightly around Evan's neck.

"Please don't put me in there, p-p-please," Evan cried.

At the East Door, Nick sighed, slamming down his spear on the ground to grab everyone's attention. He cleared his threat and spoke. "Evan of the Runners, you've been sentenced to Banishment for the assault of Mal the she-Glader. The Keepers have spoken, and it's for your own good, as well as ours. I hope you like Griever sandwiches because that's what you're going to become in a matter of minutes. Keepers, aim your spears."

"No, no please!" Evan retaliated. "I can get better! I can, I can!"

"Sorry, pal. You brought this on yourself."

With a long, horrendous groan, Evan suddenly belted, "IT'S ALL HER FAULT!" He pointed to Mal and was almost about to lunge at her, but Minho put out his arm in front of her as a means of protection. With everyone staring in confusion, Evan threatened Mal in a creepy voice, "Oh, they're gonna get you . . . They're gonna catch you and RIP YOU APART INTO TINY LITTLE GIRL PIECES!"

Nick yelled, "Okay, that's enough! Goodbye, Evan!"
"NO!" Evan continued to fight back. "You can't send me in there! I'm not the one you want! I . . . " He continued to scream and cry, but it was to no avail because, suddenly, a thick slice of meat was thrown into the East entrance corridor. In a few seconds, the regular sound of rock grumbling against concrete sounded throughout the Glade. The Doors were closing.

The Keepers held down their spears and began pointing them at Evan, guiding him and forcing him to be pushed into the Maze. Once inside, Evan limped around and screamed at the top of his lungs: "THIS WON'T BE THE LAST THING YOU CAUSE! She's evil, I tell you! EEEVVVIIIILLLLL!"

At that moment, the Doors closed with a loud boom, abruptly cutting off Evan's screams. The Keepers drew hard, pitiful faces as they stared down at the ground, and the rest of the Gladers in the crowd did the same. They were all taking a moment to remember the Evan before. During this time, the entire Glade fell silent, and Mal stood there, struck dumb, wondering what horrors she could have possibly done to cause this mess.

What did I do? she repeatedly thought. What did I ever do?

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