The Maze Girl

Just Shuckin' Peachy Keen

I woke up to the smell of peaches. Now, I know what you're probably saying: what's so important about that? Get to the important stuff. Well, imagine this. You have a stuffy nose. So stuffed up, you can't smell. Because of this, you can't taste. Then you're stuck with a stuffy nose for nearly fourteen months. No taste, no smell, only the memory of it. Then BAM! You wake up to the soft smell of ripe peaches in the summer sun, with barely a tinge of the earthly scent that they started with. Yeah, now you're getting it.

Anyway, back to the important stuff.

When I woke up, I was so overwhelmed by scent, that I barely managed to get up and get to the wardrobe. Not to mention, feeling too light. Looking back, I would surely compare it to having drunken too much wine. I quickly changed into a green shirt and tan pants, then rushed to the bathroom for my vest. As soon as I had it on, I looked in a mirror.

It is strange, seeing your own face after so long of... not. I still looked a bit grimy, even after the shower, so I started rummaging around for a rag. I found a brush. After quickly running it through my hair a few times, I resumed my search until I found one. Just as peachy as the rest of the room, but with actual peaches printed on the edges.

After scrubbing my face a lot, my skin was quite red, and the dirt was gone. Next was my hands. There was dirt under my nails that I had to scrape out with a knife, leaving myself with cuts on my fingers. Bleeding cuts. I then started scrubbing at the dirt caked in the cracks of my skin. Again, all on instinct.

As soon as I was finished with that, I started looking through drawers again. My fingers were still bleeding. I had already seen the bandages somewhere, and it was a good use for them. I gave up, though. The bleeding stopped before I found them, so I rinsed my hands again.

Then I looked in the mirror and was startled.

"How shuckin' long have you been standing there?" I asked, turning toward the lady from yesterday. Abigail, was it? No, it was Beatrice.

"Long enough to see you cutting up your fingers," she replied, smiling. "How did you sleep?"

"Not good," I replied. "I had a nightmare."

"Is that so?" she said, watching. She was silent a moment, as if asking me to elaborate. I sighed.

"It was nothing. You needed me?"

"Yes, if you'll follow me, please." Great, another chance to follow her for no reason.

She led me to another room and dropped me at a chair, the only chair. It was a one-student classroom.

"Well, shuck it," I said. "I ain't goin' to school on my first day free."

"Technically it's night," she said. "Which is why we need to hurry. We need you out there quickly."

"So talk," I said, leaning forward.

"That'll take too long," she said, turning on a projector. She then pulled out a syringe and shoved it into my arm. My reaction to defend was immediately dulled, and the rest was like a flash. Images flashed over the walls, and my mind took it all in. I started to remember. Experiments, and work, and so much. Everything. Well, up to a point.

I came back to my sense to realize that the last was forcing me to look at the wall.

"We done yet?" I asked. She nodded and let go. "I still don't know why you need me."

"You, Miss Eliot, can control any organism with the scorch virus in it," Beatrice said, moving to stand in front of me. "To an extent, that is. We need you to control the Grievers."

"Why? What's happening?"

"You will see. Tonight, your test is to make sure your control is subtle, but still works."