A MAZE RUNNER TRILOGY
"And one day someone walks into your life,
a total stranger, and they become so important
to you. And while you're only known them such a short time,
you feel you're loved them for a lifetime."
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ılı.lıllıılı.ıllı ᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ; ( BEHIND BLUE EYES limp bizkit )
GALLY PULLED A FOLDED BUNDLE of black nylon out of his pack and shoved it at Madylin's chest.
She caught it, turning it over in the flashlight beam. It was a vest, worn at the seams, with a stiff loop of webbing sewn along the spine and a faded white patch on either side.
"Put this on him," Gally instructed, "and hold the handle."
Madylin crouched. Murphy stood still while she worked the vest over his head and cinched the belly strap, his tail giving one slow sweep against the concrete. His fur was damp and stinking from the sewer, and the nylon left a dark smear where it settled across his shoulders.
"Service dog?" she asked.
"Zone Control doesn't stop service dogs. They stop strays." Gally reached down and tugged the strap tighter than she had. "People look at the vest. They stop looking at you. That's the point."
Madylin closed her left hand around the handle. The webbing was rough against her bandaged palm. Murphy shifted his weight until his shoulder pressed into her thigh, the way he always did.
She looked up at Gally and nodded.
He opened the door.
The noise hit her first. Not the roar of the tunnels but the ordinary noise of people, hundreds of them, talking, walking, shoes clipping across polished floor. Light poured down from panels in the ceiling, white and even, with no shadows anywhere. The air smelled like nothing. That was the part that turned her stomach. After the slums, after weeks of pulverized concrete and rot and unwashed bodies, the air in the station smelled like it had been scrubbed.
They walked. Gally set the pace, quick but not running, and Madylin kept two steps behind his shoulder with Murphy at her hip. A man in a clean gray coat clipped her elbow as he passed and didn't apologize. A woman brushed Newt's back. Nobody looked at them. Nobody looked at anybody.
There were four Zone Control officers standing at the base of the escalators, black visors, rifles slung low across their chests. Madylin dropped her eyes to the floor and counted the seams in the tile. Her heartbeat climbed into her throat. Lawrence's voice sat in the back of her skull: 'They probably planted a tracker on you already,' and she could feel the exact place between her neck where a light might be blinking.
