The Inventor

Chapter Fifty Seven; "We can't all die"

     It was dizzying, the amount of loops made in the downward spiral. It made you sick, the rancid smell, the lack of vision, the never ending motion sickness.

     "I'm gonna barf," You heard Chuck mumble.

     "Hold it in little man," You said, swallowing your own bile, "It can't be much longer."

     He groaned but didn't hurl, keeping his dinner down just in time for you to feel the slide disappear from under you and you crashed onto the ground. The slime coated your backside, hands filthy with it but you quickly shuffled to the side and let Chuck throw up, unable to stop it now.

     You looked away and held your breath, trying not to spill your guts too.

     Your mouth dropped open when you looked around at the room you had dropped into. It was huge, machinery and computers lining the chambers walls. You would have been in heaven if you didn't notice the menacing white pods that resembled coffins, even worse, the people staring at you through a window, observing the group as they regained their bearings and huddled together.

     There was a glass door, though, it might even be an exit if you made it there quick enough. But you stayed put, making sure Chuck drank some water and had a granola bar for energy.

     "Better?" You asked, drinking some water of your own.

     He nodded, sniffling and wiping his mouth with the hem of his shirt. You helped him up, bringing him over to stand at the front with everyone else.

     Minho's hands were clenched, rage burning in a way you were used to seeing. You often drew that reaction from him.

     "Who are they?" Chuck crocked.

     "The creators," You said, realization dawning on you. Minho's jaw clenched fin unisons, it's yours.

     "I hope you die, you bastards!" Minho screamed at them, "I'll kill you myself!"

     "What happens next?" Thomas wondered, "What are they going to do?"

     "I bet you they started the grievers back up and we're about to have them swarm on us," Newt guessed, "They'll watch us die while we try to fight them off."

     "They would really kill us all?" Chuck muttered.

     You glanced at Thomas for an answer, he was the one that would know the most from his memories. He shrugged, as clueless as the rest of us.

     "I don't think they can," You said, "They need some of us alive, like Thomas said. We can't all die."

    "What if it's the last man standing?" Minho suggested.

     You swallowed thickly, that might be a possibility, "Then we'll see what happens."

     What would you do if it had to come down to the last person standing? Could you really kill Newt or Chuck to save the other? Newt wouldn't let you sacrifice Chuck for him, nor would you be able to bear it. It would be Chuck, you would make sure of it.

     Just as this horrible realization came to an end, a low, stretched out, beep rang through the chamber. Everyone wiped their heads in all directions, trying to find the source of the noise. You stared at the creators behind the glass, not looking away for even a moment. They would know what was going on.

     You were right because right when the ringing came to a stop, the men and women all looked to the glass door. You shifted your attention there too, just in time to see two people waltz through it.

     One woman, a grown adult with a neutral expression. Black pants, a button up shirt, Wicked, threaded in blue threading on the right breast. Her face was thin, hair neatly cut to her shoulders and placid brown hair. She look, ordinary, unfazed, not caring that the gladers stood several feet in front of her.

     The second was a boy, face hidden by a black hood, his head down.

     Your eyes focused on him immediately, feeling a twinge of recognition. There wasn't any explanation to it besides the way he walked, the broad shoulders. Everyone who survived from the glade, however, stood beside you.

     The women studied everyone, looking from left and right to take them all in, "It's been over two years, and many of you still stand here. It's wonderful."

     "Wonderful?" Newt seethed, disgusted, "Wonderful?!"

     She searched the crowd, eyes falling on Newt, "Everything has gone just as we planned. Although, we did expect less of you. We didn't think so many wouldn't give up."

     She glanced directly at you when she said this, making a point about who she was speaking about.

     "You look like a human shrub," You commented, "You know that? You look dead inside, more dead than the people you killed. I'm thinking we go eye for an eye, blood for blood."

     You took the spear from Chucks hands and held it up, "You know, since you're a murderer then all."

     "I am no better than you," She said, voice turning dry and cold.

     "You're wrong, I'm better than you, I can kill people and I have the brains to back it up. You hide behind some fancy logo," You taunted, reading her reaction and trying to dig in deep under her skin, "You like to compare yourself to kids you forced into a maze with no other choice but to become killers to live? You get a kick out of that? I kind of like that you said I'm at your level when I'm a teenager and you're over forty, it says a lot about how inferior you are."

     "I would advise you to keep your mouth shut," She said carefully.

     "What are you going to do? Kill me? Have a go at it, you've already tried and you couldn't even manage to do that," You mocked.

     "Shut your mouth or he dies," She threatened, pulling down the hood of the boy and holding a gun to his head.

     You choked on your words, letting them sit on your tongue. You were going to say, 'I don't care', you didn't care that some random kid died for the sake of your revenge and you knew they would have observed you long enough to guess that response. But it wasn't a random boy.

     It was Gally.