The Deadliest Generation: The Maze Of Monsters

Pain, Terror and Confessions

Thomas had no concept of time as he went through the Changing. 

It started much like his first memories from the Box - dark, blurry and empty. But this time he had no sensation of anything touching him. He floated in emptiness, stared into a plain, dizzying void of black. He saw nothing, heard nothing, smelled nothing and felt nothing. It was as though someone had stolen his five senses, leaving him in a vacuum. 

Time dragged onward, every passing few minutes feeling like an hour. His fear of what was to come turned to anticipation, to curiosity, then to boredom. 

Finally, after what felt like months of waiting, things began to change. A distant wind picked up; he could hear it whistling in his ears, but he couldn't feel the breeze. Then a swirling mist of whiteness appeared in the distance - a spinning tornado of smoke that formed into a long funnel, stretching out until he could not see the top or the bottom of the whirlwind of light. 

He felt the gales then, sucking into the cyclone so that it blew past him from behind, whipping at his hair and skin.

The tower of thick mist began to move towards him - or he was moving toward it, he couldn't tell - increasing its speed at an alarming rate. Where seconds before he'd been able to see the distinct form of the funnel, he could now see only a flat expanse of white.

And then it consumed him; he felt his mind being swarmed by the mist, felt memories fill the unlabelled jars in his brain.

Every other nerve switched into an unbearable pain.

¬¬¬

"Thomas."

The voice, the word was a struggle to hear, echoing and dull, like an unknown voice from a figure at the end of the tunnel. 

"Thomas, can you hear me?"

Thomas didn't want to answer. Too... much... effort. His mind had shut down when the pain had become so awful that he couldn't deal with it any longer; he feared all the pain would return if he ventured into the land of conscious beings. He sensed a glow behind his eyelids, a warm, welcoming glow, but it didn't make him want to open his eyes again. He did nothing.

"Thomas... it's Chuck. Are you okay? Please, don't die, dude."

Everything came crashing back painfully into his mind; the Glade, the the Grievers, the needle's of those monsters, the Changing. The Memories. The Maze couldn't be solved. Their only way out was something they'd never expected. Something terrifying. Something that could very easily not work. He was crushed with despair. 

Groaning, Thomas finally forced his eyes open. He had to let the others know, and quickly too, before these memories faded. He squinted at the sudden burst of light, wanting to move his hands up to cover his face, to protect himself, but his arms refused to move. 

He finally adjusted to the light and saw Chuck's face, worried and tired, staring at him. But as soon as he saw Thomas was awake his face lit up and a wide, bright smile spread across his face. Despite it all, despite the the twisted situation they were in, Chuck smiled.

Thomas really wanted to hug him. 

"He's awake!" The excitable boy yelled to no one in particular, or perhaps someone out of Thomas's eye range at that moment. "Thomas is awake!"

The sound of his voice felt so loud to Thomas, seemingly cracking open his skull with the dull pain of it, and he shut his eyes again. This feeling felt like something he knew, and maybe it was because of the Changing, but a word leaped to his mind. Hangover.

"Chuck," Thomas croaked out, "do you have to scream? I really don't feel so good."

"Sorry," Chuck replied, hugging Thomas happily, looking like he might start dancing, "I'm just glad you're alive. You're lucky I don't kiss you."