The Hawk / Maze Runner/ Harriet

𝐼𝓃𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃.

The lamp flickers, the few generators we have are not enough to disperse power throughout the entire camp effectively. My spoon swirls in my soup, peas flow to the spiral in the center. Its similar to the recipe in the Glade, I'm sure it's Frypans work.

I sit at a makeshift dining table, mix-matched foldable chairs and slanted tables are pushed together. Dinner is later than usual, darkness engulfing the camp, Fry' says that the original meal got burnt, so he whipped up a quick soup.

We all eat together in silence, there's been nothing to really talk about. We all think about Minho, Aris, and Sonya. But guilt fills me when I think of Teresa in the same way. I almost feel like I'm grieving for her too, the only difference is that she went to Wicked by choice, and dragged our friends with her. Her actions only make me more ashamed of my feelings. I can't help but think of her eyes, or how her mouth hangs open whenever she thinks too hard.

The sound of radio static brings me back. I turn to look at the source of the sound. Jorge is sitting there, he's fiddling with the radio dial, not bothered by our stares.

The slight chatter of voices can be heard through the static, he moves his ear closer, listening in.

"nada bueno.." He mutters under his breath.

He flicks the thing off. His eyes meeting the confused gazes of Gladers.

I hear the man inhale deeply.

"There's news." Jorge starts. "We know where they're being held."
I instantly know who 'they' means. Minho.

I drop my spoon, it sinks into my soup.

"W-"
"Listen." Vince cuts me off.

"We know what compound they are at but-"
"Then let's go!" I say a little louder than I should have.

"Hold it hermano." Jorge says, glaring at me. "But we do not have the supplies nor forces to do anything."
"Then why bloody tell us?" Newt asks.

"Well-"

"Hell! Give me the coordinates and I'll go myself!" I retort as I stand up. I cut off Jorge off in the process.

"Sit your ass down." Jorge directs.

From some odd reason I listen, slumping back down.

"As Jorge was saying." Jorge glares at me. "The compound is heavily guarded. Even with the supplies and people we'd need, it would be a gamble." Vince finishes.

"So that's it? We're just gonna wait years until we have the forces? Letting Minho be experimented on?" Newt asks. Clearly he is as annoyed as me.

"No. That's not what we're doing." Vince tells him. "Jorge will continue to listen in on Wickeds conversation, gathering information. And I assure you, we will strike the second we can"

Vince looks around the table, searching for any more protesters.

"Wish we'd just go now but whatever.." I grumble under my breath, quiet enough that no one would hear.

I stand up, placing my dishes next to the sink.

I briskly walked out of the food hall, which was really just some abandoned ruins. I go back to my sleeping quarters, flopping once more into my bed.

My bed's tucked into the corner, Harriets next to it, and Brenda's on the same wall as Harriets.

We sleep in an old shipping container, most people also sleep in them, more protection from the rain. I don't mind it, but the metal is sad looking, rust forming in some places. I like to keep the metal doors open, I don't like feeling trapped, it makes me think of the Wicked facility.

I watch as the candles flame next to me dances, a small smoke streak flowing upwards. It sways back and forth, dancing to an invisible rhythm.

And just as quickly as I was mesmerized by it, I blew it out, ending its dance.

I roll over to stare at the wall. I wasn't even tired. But sleep felt like my only escape.