TST: Searching In The Scorch :Sequel to The Maze In Her Heart: ✔ (UNDER EDITING)

Chapter 7: Rat Man Saves The Day.

Hunger. It's consuming me in a way, clawing at my stomach in a desperate plea to get out. I try not to give in, knelt over a toilet, clutching at my stomach. Nothing comes up- there's nothing for it to throw up. 

I groaned, leaned up and pressed my head against the lifted toilet seat. My insides felt twisted up and double knotted together. Every inch of my stomach felt as if were ripping apart- tiny minuscule stretches. There was no food and it felt as if my digestive system had started to eat me from the inside out. 

Almost four days without food could do that to someone.

I knelt over by the bathtub, and passed out.

...

I woke up curled in the bathtub. Somehow, in the middle of my dry heaving splendor, i had crawled into the tub and made it a home. I opened my eyes and glared at the ceramic tiles of the wall, my head pressed to the cool, smooth marble. I groaned, and it came out raspy and strained. 

"Where's Marie?" A voice says, and it isn't raspy. The owner of the voice sounds fresh and rejuvenated, and it took me a minute to register that it's Minho. I opened my eyes again, hugged my knees tighter, and waited for him to find me out. it was a wonder he was still talking- last time I saw, Gladers were scattered about the room, laying on their backs and on each other, weak.

"Marie? What the bloody hell are you doing in the actual tub?" Newt's voice rained down on me like light from heaven. I glanced up to see rays of bathroom light shining around him, making him Godly. For a second, I wonder if I really am dead and this is him greeting me. 

But then Minho appeared, face smudged, and the idea fluttered away. 

Minho scooped me up with some struggle, and, with the help of Newt and a few other boys, stumbled to a bunk and laid me down. The familiar bed sheets welcomed me as they set me down, inviting me back to stay a while. Maybe forever. 

"Here." Minho said urgently, handing me something plump. 

"What? How?" I gasped out, trying to understand where the boys got their energy. I hold up the item Minho handed me and gasped again, breathlessly. It was an apple, the light reflecting off of the flecks of red, orange, and crisp yellows. 

Food. They had food, and I needed to know where they got it.

Without even saying thank you, I bit down into it. The feeling of having something to bite alone filled me with a fresh, new energy. The juice dribbled down my chin as I hacked away at the apple, not caring whether the others were watching. I finished and, without another word, Minho handed me another apple. I downed it animalistically, not even thinking.

"Slim it, ya shank!" he finally said after I let out a tiny, feeble burp. "You'll pass out again. We already got some poor shucks puking from too much."

I slowed down, although hesitantly.

"Where did you get this?" I said, and blinked a few times. My vision, like the lens of a camera, snapped into focus. The world seemed more colorful and brighter at the edges. The atmosphere seemed increasingly lively and lighter. I glanced around, watching the Gladers littered around the room feast on food like last resort. 

Minho is watching me, frowning. His hair seemed flatter than usual, but it's still spiky and his glint in his eyes is back. I smiled and glanced at his exposed collarbone, reading his tattoo.

"The.. leader.." I read out loud, and Minho looked down at his tattoo, rubbing a finger over it.

"Yeah, what's yours?" he asked. Newt was watching us, his arms crossed over his chest.