Wicked Heart [The Maze Runner]

Chapter Two

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Amanda
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Glade? What on earth was a Glade?

The girl let out a shaky breath before giving a stern look at the four boys. "Who are you people, and who sent me here?" It was more of a demand rather than a question.

Suddenly the light-skinned dude—perhaps he was the leader of the group, possibly twenty-one—stepped forward. He wore normal clothes: white t-shirt, jeans, combat boots, and a digital watch. He had thick jet-black hair and blue eyes. And the way his arms were crossed showed off his biceps.

"It's a long story, shank," he said, "Piece by piece, you'll learn. I'll be takin' you on the Tour tomorrow. Till then . . . just try to not ask a lot of questions." He held a hand out. "My name's Nick."

He waited, clearly wanting to shake hands.

The girl looked at his hand, and disapprovingly she backed away. "I'm not shaking your hand until you tell me the long story."

Nick glanced at his friends closest to him. The girl's eyes darted from him to the other boys around them. She estimated roughly fifty guys in total . . . but where were the other girls? They ranged from boys in their midteens to young adults like Nick who seemed to be the oldest, dressed in normal clothes rather than what she'd expected—like prison wear—but they were dirty, stained, sweaty, and looking exhausted from a long day's work.

Nick sighed heavily and turned back to her. "Look, we don't hurt shanks—or shankettes—like you here. You're the first girl to show up here in our Glade, so just try and avoid being hurt. Do your part, follow the rules, avoid bein' sassy and I'll tell ya the rest tomorrow, after wake-up. Good that?"

She responded unsurely, "Okay?"

"Good," Nick said, "First Day. That's what today is for you. The Box came late today though, so you have little time to take a look at things before the Tour. Whatever you choose to do, do not go beyond those walls. Ya hear me?" 

The girl's voice raised a little. "Why? What's over there?"

Nick's eyes narrowed, "Just don't do it. All will be explained tomorrow." Nick glanced back at the other boys. "If any of you slintheads lay a finger on this here lady shank, I will personally beat the tar out of you and send ya as dinner to the Grievers! Understood? Okay. Gathering's calling." Then, with a few minor complaints, they all went back to what they were doing.

The British kid and dark-skinned boy stayed. The girl looked at them with hopelessness and exasperation. "Is this a prison?"

The British kid strode up to her. "Greenie, what you're feeling right now, well, we've all felt it. We've all had First Day, coming out of that dark box. Things ain't so peachy around here, they're pretty bad, and they'll get much worse for ya soon, especially since you're the only girl here now, that's the bloody truth." He sighed. "Nick's a nice guy, Greenie. He keeps us real well here, he'll take care of ya." He reached an assuring hand out. "I'm Newt."

Newt seemed much more friendlier than Nick. The girl watched his brows lift up, eager for her to shake his hand. But remembering the rejection she gave Nick, Newt put his hand down.

"A few weeks you'll be happy, shank," the dark-skinned boy came around. "You'll be happy and helpin'. You'll get used to it. New life begins tomorrow." He didn't bother to offer his hand. "Name's Alby." He looked about nineteen with a thick build, had short hair and a clean-shaven face, though glistening with sweat.