So, we didn't escape apparently.
I still barely know what's going on, but I know more now:
W.I.C.K.E.D. is a real pain in the ass, walking through sand dunes should be considered a sport, and searching for a mysterious rebel group is like searchin...
Killing Me Softly With His Song - Fugees, Ms. Lauryn Hill
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"WHAT DO YOU MEAN aboy crawled out of a hole and into our room last night?" I hissed, the white bedsheet laying over half my unkempt bedhead as some dried drool still clung to my chin below my cranky frown and bewildered gaze.
Thomas rolled his eyes, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple.
"No. He—" He caught himself, peering over his shoulder to make sure none of the other waking Gladers were listening. Then, leaning in to speak privately, Thomas finally spoke, "—he crawled through the vents and told me to follow him."
"Wait, so you also crawled through the vents?" Minho asked groggily from the bottom bunk, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
Once again, Thomas rolled his eyes.
From the moment the pale yellow lights flicked on and the clock struck 7:00am, Thomas was out of bed–barely getting a lick of sleep, seen from the purple bags drooping beneath his wired gaze–and he had aggressively shaken everyone of our friends and some of the last Keepers to speak on a matter he found so serious that his nose was twitching.
So, barely awake and hanging on to our miserable consciousness, Newt, Minho, Winston, Frypan, and Chuck watched in tired bemusement as Thomas spiraled in a perspiring frenzy.
"Stop focusing on the vents." Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is serious, guys."
"Okay, okay–and what did you see, Tommy?" Newt yawned, giving him the benefit of the doubt.
Yawning in reaction to Newt's yawn, I nuzzled back into his arm, absorbing his warmth and comfort despite the wedge between sleep and my waking life–Thomas being that wedge.
He sighed in thought before starting, "I saw the doctor—the one that was with Teresa. The doctor and a few other nurses were rolling in these stretchers or...or something. They were covered with gray sheets so I couldn't see but..."
Thomas paused, his eyes flicking across the floor as he searched for the right words.
"But what?" Frypan urged, speaking what was on everyone's minds.
Thomas shook his head before looking back up to us, "I think they were bodies."
"What?" I gapped, lifting myself up from the comfort of my boyfriend's arm.
"What do you mean bodies? Like soldiers? People that were injured outside?" Winston asked, his brows furrowed into one nervous line.
"How do you know they were bodies? What if they were something else?" Chuck bargained, hoping beyond hope that our place of rest, away from the Maze, wasn't just another trap.
