Past Gone --- Maze Runner Fanfic

Salamander

It's the little things that set me off. Not randomly feeling like ripping someone's heart from their chest or biting off my own fingers. Nothing like that surprises me anymore. But the way time can freeze up, then everything fasts forward all the sudden; as if there was a lag or glitch in the world. How sometimes, for just a minute or two, everything feels normal. Like I'm not a crank, like I'm not infected with a brain eating disease. But then it stops and the sense of insanity is overpowering.

Oh, how I hate those little things.

But what can I do? I'm not a doctor or nurse, I'm not some genius who's intent on fixing this broken home of ours. I certainly don't feel like playing the lives of innocent people like games. I know about WICKED. What they did. When the Flares first hit earth, no one knew what to do. Then came WICKED. Reassuring, convincing, but mostly, they were rich off our money. They poisoned our minds with the hopes of a cure. While they sit up in their headquarters, fat, safe and happy, we work our butts off to stay sane. And even if they did somehow find the cure, who do you think would get it? Not any of us cranks sitting here in the pits of hell. No. That wouldn't make sense at all, would it? Wealthy, important, high-ranking people with connections to WICKED. Then they'd kill off all us lost maniacs that'd once been humans. Who would have thought?

I think about all this as I sit on the roof of the Bowling Alley the next morning, eating my breakfast of cheese and stale bread with way too many seeds. There's a creaking sound from below as one of the double doors swing open. I look down.

Newt's there, squinting up at me. He doesn't say a word, just keeps staring at me as if he's trying to decide if it's me or not. I wave my loaf of bread at him.

"Hungry now, salamander?" I ask.

He laughs. A sweet laugh with a tinge of sourness to it. Delicious. "Yes, actually. You got food up there?"

I grin mischievously. "Maybe I'll give you some if you can figure out how to get to it."
Without saying another word, he accepts my challenge and begins to look around the side of the building.

"How did you get up there, anyway?" he asks me slyly.

"Like I'm gonna tell you."

He grunts in frustration as I laugh from my perch on the rough roof shingles. Wind whips his long hair as he slowly walks back to the front, making sure not to miss any details. Then he starts to check the other side. I follow him from above and see that he's wearing a strange look of doubt.

"You expect me to climb this?" He questions me.

"Scared?"

He hesitates and scratches the back of his neck. "Of course not."

I interrogate him further, "Then what are you waiting for?"

He shrugs and looks up at me. "How do I know you're not just some blood thirsty shank tryin'a bring me up there so you can kill me?"

I shrug.

He tries to restrain a laughing smile. I wait. He glances at me again, and our eyes meet. I doubted my eyes were any saner than his. Mine are probably beaten, crazed and intoxicated with lies. His are a deep chocolate brown with flecks of shimmering gold, but there's something else there. Very faint and jaded, but there's still a hint of it left in him. Trust.

In me?

No, I've barely known him for not even twenty four hours, that couldn't be long enough. Maybe it's just leftover from wherever he was before this. But not for long can I contemplate what I've just seen, because something catches the corner of my eye. Someone. Grimy brown hair knotted in elaborate tangles. Here, that's a normal thing to see. But only one has that trademark silver coated ax. Brandon. Rich where he came from, snotty as well, and even less right in the head. Been after me since I got here.

I throw the bread off the side of the roof for Newt to catch. He frowns. "What-"

"Shh!" I fly down the wooden ladder that I'd made weeks ago and slam my hand against Newt's mouth. The touch makes my fingers tingle. "We need to go. Now." I grab his hand and start to pull him away.

"What's going on?" he whisper-yelled to me. At least he's not crying of confusion.

I shake my head and look back at him. "I just saw someone that doesn't like me that much. He's way farther along than us." I gasp for air and say again, "We need to go."

Suddenly Newt's eyes widened. "Look where you're bloody going!" he screams this time, not seeming to care who hears. I laugh and swivel my head around, right as I plant myself face-first into a wooden wall.