Chapter Twenty - One
"stay"

❣︎

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Offended, I glare at Gally. He shrugs, his face barely visible in the darkness. It's just a black silhouette.

We're sitting near the beach. In the distance, waves slap against rocks so heavily that I have trouble hearing him now and then.

"I mean, you just came back from saving Newt and you already want to join the next dangerous thing? I understand you want to help, but you're hurt and should rest. Everything is organized the way it should be and it's better if we don't change anything."

I shake my head. 'You don't understand. I'm fine. I can help. I can analyze—I can find their breeding spot in no time.'

"We're already close to finding it. You really need to rest, Adelaide," he repeats firmly.

'I've had a whole year of rest while I was at WCKD. I've gotten enough of it. I need to be useful and I need to keep myself busy. I'm bored if I don't. Analyzing is amazing. I'll almost enjoy doing it.'

"That's not the point. You—" he stops, sighs, and rubs his chin. "I don't want to lose you. No one wants to lose you. Just stay here."

'Are you saying I'm weak?'

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all. But right now, you're not in a good state. And even if you'd be fine physically, your brain needs breaks from analyzing now and then."

'I've had a three-day break on the boat and we've been back for two days. That's five days of rest already."

Gally sighs again. He knows I have good arguments. "I don't think it's convenient. We've got a whole plan settled already."

'Gally,' I start writing, but he interrupts me.

"No. You shouldn't be going."

'You have no right to decide that for me.' 

"I wasn't deciding anything. I was just... whatever. Let's not argue." The boy rubs his eyes for a moment before he gets up. "I'm going to sleep. Come on. Walk with me."

❣︎

Vince clears his throat, scanning the gathered crowd. "I've been thinking a lot about how to make things fair for everyone here in the Safe Haven," he begins. "We can't just go back to the way things were before the Flare. Money isn't going to do it—so we need a new system. One that keeps everyone accountable but doesn't put anyone at a disadvantage."

He gestures broadly to the crowd. "We're going to use a barter-and-labor system, paired with something I'm calling community credits. Let me explain."

Vince pauses. "Starting with barter. If you need something—a tool, food, or supplies—you can trade something of equal value for it. That's simple enough. But obviously, not everyone has the same skills or resources. That's where labor comes in."

He raises a hand. "Say the Builders put up your hut. Instead of paying them with something you might not have, you'll owe the community a certain number of hours doing your part. Maybe you help the Med-Jacks gather supplies, or work in the fields, or even assist with training exercises. Everyone contributes in the way they're best suited.

"And then there are the community credits. Think of it as a record of how much you've contributed. Every hour of work you put in earns you credits. You can use those credits to 'pay' for things you can't trade for—like extra rations, tools, or a favor from another group.

"This isn't about debt or profit. It's about making sure no one takes more than they give."

Someone in the crowd raises a hand. "What happens if someone can't work, like if they're injured or sick? What about kids and elderly?"

Vince nods. "Good point. If you're unable to work for a valid reason, your credits pause, and the community steps up to help you. But don't think this is an excuse to slack off. We're all in this together. The minute you're able, you're expected to contribute again. Kids will expect to be taken care of by their parents and if they don't have those, we have our Shelter; you can also work there for credits. They will be taken care of either way. The same goes for elderly in the Hearth."

Another hand flies up in the air. "Will we be assigned jobs?"

"Yes. It will get chaotic otherwise. Of course, you've got a say in your preferences and you can always calmly tell me if you want to switch. We will be making forms."

A third hand. "What about the other kids? Those in the Shelter are only weak ones, or up to the age of sixteen. What about the ones from seventeen to twenty?"

People like the Gladers and the Icers.

"We are still thinking about that. They will probably have to work as well. We're working on a school system, but it'll take a while for that to actually work out. Of course, kids below the age of twenty-one will always get some sort of... discount. This isn't a perfect system yet. We're figuring it out as we go, but the goal is fairness and survival. For now, younger kids and teens will have fewer responsibilities, and we'll work on making sure they get proper training and education alongside their contributions."

Someone in the back calls out, "What if someone refuses to contribute at all?"

"This is a community. If someone refuses to work without a valid reason, they'll lose access to non-essential supplies. We're not going to let anyone starve, but they won't get extras either—no special tools, no favors, nothing beyond the basics. Refusing to contribute affects everyone, so the community will hold them accountable.

"Now, let's talk specifics about the Shelter and the Hearth. The Shelter will be a safe place for homeless or orphaned children. They'll have food, a place to sleep, and people to look after them. Anyone can volunteer there for credits, but only if they're patient and good with kids. Same for the Hearth, which will be for the elderly and anyone too weak to work. They'll get the care they deserve, and people can earn credits helping out there, too."

Minho, standing near the front, crosses his arms. "So, basically, no freeloading, and everyone chips in? How do you plan to track all that? Someone's bound to cheat eventually."

"We'll keep records. Each department leader—Builders, Doctors, Cooks, and so on—will report hours worked and contributions made. It's not foolproof, but it's a start. And if someone's caught lying? Let's just say the community won't take kindly to it."

Another voice pipes up, "What about credits for dangerous work? Like fighting Grayshades? Shouldn't that count for something?"

Vince nods. "Yes, dangerous or highly skilled work will earn extra credits. We don't expect any more dangerous work once we have defeated the Grayshades, but the current volunteers will definitely get a prize. Remember, this isn't about competition. It's about survival. If anyone feels their work isn't valued fairly, they can come to me or the other leaders, and we'll figure it out."

When the murmurs start to rise, I turn back to my friends. Gally's expression is blank, Minho is pulling all sorts of faces, and Aris seems rather dazzled but happy enough.

"I don't want to work," Minho complains. "My back is killing me from all those years of running. I swear I will join the grandmas at the Hearth."

"I'm sure they'll love you," Thomas mocks.

"I'm convinced they will. My charm is awesome."

We sit down at a table. "Then why don't you just work at the Hearth?" Aris wonders. "I don't think you have to do that much."

Gally snorts. "Apart from washing naked elderlies."

"I'd rather do that than get my hands anywhere near a garden."

"Those elderlies might have a whole garden growing on their bodies."

I roll my eyes at that comment.

Minho does the same. "Whatever. We should finish this mission first."

Immediately, I look at Gally. He shakes his head. I nod. He shakes his head again.

"Whoever thinks it's a good idea for Adelaide to join that mission, speak up," Gally says.

"I kind of do," Minho admits.

"She is very clever," Thomas adds. Aris remains silent, either zoned out or too unbothered to say something.

"What...?" Gally asks slowly, directed at my expression. His rise, while mine are knitted together, my teeth clenched. "I was only asking. And you have two people on your side. What's wrong?"

Harshly, I scribble, 'Did you just tell me to 'speak up' if I think it's a good idea??'

His face falls. "I did not mean it like that. I was asking them."

'They don't get a say in this either. No one does. No one but me and Vince.'

"I'm just letting you know that I don't think it's a good idea—"

"Gally, shut your mouth. I get where you're coming from but this is not improving the little amount of love people have for you," Minho cuts him off. Grateful, I nod.

Silence hangs in the air. I look down, then up, right at Aris. He was already looking—or perhaps he happened to glance at me at the exact same time. Whatever. He shrugs a bit, smiles a tiny smile, and stares back at the sea. 

I find myself drifting into my own thoughts, my mind swirling between the mission, the system Vince laid out, and everything that happened the past week.

Gally clears his throat, breaking the silence. "Look, I get it, okay? You want to help. And you are smart. But you need to take care of yourself, too."

I can't help but raise an eyebrow at that. Taking care of myself is literally observing. That's what satisfies me. I won't just back down.

He notices my frown and crosses his arms. "Don't look at me like that. You're hurt. You're still recovering. You're not invincible."

I scoff quietly. He's right, in a way. My mind is sharp, but my body is still recovering from everything. Still, I can't just sit here and do nothing.

The awkward silence lingers, thick and uncomfortable. It's hard to make eye contact with anyone right now, so I turn my attention back to the table, trying to clear the sudden tightness in my chest.

Aris shifts in his seat, leaning forward just a bit. "You know, you don't have to fight for everyone, Adelaide," he says, for my ears only. "You don't have to constantly prove yourself. You're enough just the way you are."

I glance at him, biting the inside of my cheek. His words hit differently, not like Gally or Minho's.

I let out a long breath. It's not what I wanted to hear, but it's a complicated truth. However, I do need to prove myself. The version of me in the Spring is buried—tired, bruised. Weak.

Back in the Spring, I was expressive. I'd speak my mind and share my thoughts. I could easily navigate my ways through conversations. At night, I had deep talks with my friends. They were usually the ones to ask advice about their issues. They believed I never had any issues.

And it's true. My life in the Spring was perfect apart from being locked up. I spent my days in the garden, and spent my evenings reading books to improve my knowledge—part of the observation skills came from that. I helped in the kitchen now and then and would tour Greenies around if Ximena was too busy.

After a while, I got promoted into a Skater. Not because I was extremely strong, but because I had mental abilities. Convenient ones. I would be able to find a way out, according to them, but that would only be possible if I was in the Maze.

Turns out I did need that physical strength; I got bitten. Everything fell apart. I thought I died, but I woke up in WCKD's facility.

Realizing I was unable to speak didn't hit me that hard at first. I thought it would fly by, kind of like a cold. I thought the doctors at WCKD could give me medicine.

But it never worked. They did try to give me speech therapy. All it led to was unnecessary pain and stress.

My voice, the thing that had once been so powerful, had been stripped from me in an instant. I still couldn't quite grasp that it was gone. No matter how many times I tried to scream, the sound never came. The doctors at WCKD had made it clear—my voice had shattered. And no amount of therapy, no matter how hard I tried, would ever fix it. They told me I was lucky to still be alive, though that was hard to see as a blessing at the time.

Now I'm left with scribbling on pieces of paper, silent gestures and stupid face expressions.

I don't want to be weak. I don't want to be seen as fragile. But in some ways, I know I am. My body is not in a good state. Spending all that time below the ice did me no good. The doctors told me some of my nerves are damaged. I can't feel it if I press against my knees or lower back.

Mentally, I feel like I'm trapped in a cage, every thought and emotion swirling, every decision ruined by the inability to speak.

Back in the Spring, I would sometimes try to see how long I could go without speaking. Not in public, but in my own hut. I just wanted to see how long I could go without talking to myself. But it felt so... forced. Forcing my mouth to stay closed was a horrible feeling.

And now it's permanent. I want to prove that I can still contribute. I don't want to sit in the shadows waiting for my voice to magically return. I don't think it ever will. Not after what happened inside the Bunker.

Even though Desmia and I are friends now, I can't help but look at her with hatred sometimes. Not because of her personality or her actions or the way she looks—just the reminder of what she did. I feel selfish. My voice was already gone.

That one moment didn't change it, but it feels like it did. She did what she had to do. To protect herself and her loved ones.