The Inventor

Chapter Twenty Eight; "Another day to live"

     Newt informed Alby about what you were cooped up working on, he even came by to see it himself when it was put together three weeks later. You had to completely resize it which added another week.

     You tinkered on it more, tightening here and there, cleaning up edges, making sure the interior was lined up correctly. It didn't look as bulky as it did when you started making it, you had to take off a lot of the weight so it didn't slow you down. Straps came up around your thighs, holding the bars in bars in place. A boot-like contraption meant to wrap around your shoe came up to right above your knee, to bars running up each side of your thigh, starting right at the back of your knee, hooked to a bar that was placed there. If it worked correctly you hoped the support beams would push the bar behind your knee forward, moving you as if you were walking normally.

     You had plans, when you got the supplies, to make your knee able to bend easier with it being numb but you knew that would probably take technology you didn't have.

     You tightened the straps a considerable amount when you tried it on for the first time, struggling to put it on yourself so you let Newt help just that once. If you weren't wearing pants the straps would rub your skin raw.

     "Tight enough?" He asked.

     "I think so," You said, holding out your arm for him.

     He held onto it, ready to catch you if it didn't hold your weight. You put your weight on your good leg and moved your hip forward, the bars pushing your need forward as if you were walking. The toe of the boot dragged across the floor and you would probably have to put a support beam behind your shin to make it move better but you leaned into Newt while you physically pushed it forward with your hand. Your foot lay flat on the floor and you gripped onto Newt tightly as you put your wait on it, ready to clutch into him if you fell.

     You didn't, though, it held strong and you were able to stand. You let go of Newt and stood on your own, laughing happily at your success.

     "I did it!" You yelled.

     "Aye! Nice job rockstar!" He cheered.

     You did fist pumps in the air and nearly fell over, he caught you, setting you back upright.

     "Definitely needs improvement but I can stand on my own!" You exclaimed.

     Newt clapped you on the shoulder, still holding your arm to keep you steady, "You're bloody brilliant, you know that?"

     You laughed, your success kept you pumped. You let go and helped yourself over to the chair, plopping down on it to take the brace off, "I know exactly what to do now! I could even make on for you, Newt! It would be like you didn't even have a limp!"

     You looked up to see him beaming at the idea.

     "Really?" He asked hopefully, "You could make my limp go away?"

     "Not entirely but it would make it easier to walk," You said, "Sounds like a good idea?"

     "That would be buggin' 'amazing!" He cheered.

     You smiled at him, "It's a deal then partner."

     "Shucking right it is."

Present Day
     You spent the night constructing bombs, spreading formula's out on paper so you didn't forget when your mind got tired. You didn't even have a clue that it was morning until someone stomped on the exit hatch. You rubbed your eyes, caffeine driving you to the edge of your ability to function.

     "Use the fricken mic you brainless crusty spit wad!" You said.

     "Yeah your talkie thingy is broken!" Minho yelled back, "So is half of your workshop!"

     You scrambled across the room, making Chuck stir in his sleep from all the noise. You yanked down the hatch, hopping up two stairs before putting a hand over your eyes to protect from the blast of light. Being down in the bunker made your eyes sensitive to light.

     "Ew, I hate this, I'm going back," You declared, turning around to stomp back down but Minho clicked his tongue and grabbed your waist, hauling you back out.

     Your eyes adjusted and you looked at Minho, wrinkling your nose, "I hate this more."

     He rolled his eyes, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

     You pushed him out of your way and felt your heart drop in your stomach. Half of the large hut you had lived in during your time in the glade was demolished into rubble, piled stacking to your waist.

     "This is," you swallowed, trying to find a funny remark on the spot through your shock, "a disaster and I want to go back down the stairs and pretend this never happened."

     You began to do just that when Minho grabbed your arm again.

     "Hey!" He hissed.

     "Get your hand off me, I am too sober to tolerate you," You shook his grip off.

     "The maps got burned down!" He spat at you, "And Gallys dead, thought someone had to tell you while Newt was running this freaking place! He's alive too, in case you wanted to know that!"

     "I know he's alive," You said carelessly, sidetracked by the big problem, "The maps are burned? All of them?"

     Minho pointed to the map room, smoke still coming from it in puffs.

     You waited to feel the overwhelming hopelessness, years of work had quite literally been turned to dust. But maybe the system was flawed from the beginning because if the maps were really helpful, there would have been something pop up before the creators started to force everyone out into the maze. Still, though, there was so much in those pages, all of which was gone.

     You swallowed hard, "Gally's dead?"

     Minho nodded, "The freak just jumped into the griever after spewing a bunch of klunk about how they'll take one a night and to not trust Thomas."

     "He's not a freak," You put as much venom in your voice as you could, spitting the words out to him, "He bought somebody another day to live."

     "Whatever," Minho muttered, "I went after him, ran into the maze to see where the grievers were off to. They were going to the cliff, exactly where they disappeared that night in the maze."

     "You what?!" You said, "You ran out into the maze after a griever you idiot! You could have died!"

     He crossed his arms, "I thought you didn't care if I lived or died?"

     You opened your mouth, then shut it again, mimicking his stance, "I don't, I don't care at all but if you died, we would all be screwed over!"

     "Uh-huh," He smirked, "Not any of my concern what your shuck emotions are up to these days anyway. We set a few boxes of maps aside in the weaponry room, just in case. Keep it on the down low, only Newt, you and me know."

     "Why didn't you start with that?!"

     He shrugged, "Kinda thought it was funny to see those gears in your head get a good workout."

     "I wish you pain and suffering, you narcissistic bastard."

     "Blah, blah, blah, Newt wants you in the weapons room to go through the boxes, he's going to let you in on everything you missed while hiding in your rabbit whole," Minho patted your head, "Good talk."

     You smacked his hand with more force than was necessary, shoving him out of the way so you could get to the weapons room. Fuming so much you swear steam should be coming out of your ears.