THE HEARTS » TMR [1]

10. Alby

Though Margaret had a strong desire to figure out who was talking inside her head, she had to force herself to push the thought to the back of her mind so she could concentrate on the task of saving Alby's life. Outside the Homestead, they could hear him scream in agony, a sound Margaret had never heard in the Glade before, and it sent chills down her spine. The boy was in excruciating pain.

    "Thomas," Minho, with a transfixed expression on his face, said, "you sure this thing could save him?" 

     Thomas bit his lower lip nervously, sweating from a mixture of anxiety and determination. In front of Minho, he held up a syringe containing some sort of blue liquid. "This—This could save him. It will save him, Minho. I know it will."

     Margaret took notice of the syringe in Thomas's hand. Letters were inscribed at the end of the small tube, but Margaret couldn't see what they were because Thomas's fingers moved down to the bottom of the tube, hiding it from her view. Margaret cast a suspicious glance at both Thomas and the girl. And then she became aware of the girl's appearance. She was dressed in the same old clothes as everyone else in the Glade: a long-sleeved blue shirt, blue cargo pants, and a pair of dirty, old brown shoes.

     They made eye contact for a minute, blue and green blending—creating cyan—until Thomas interrupted, warning everyone, especially the girl, to brace themselves for what was about to happen inside the Homestead. They all entered to find Newt, the two Med-Jacks, Clint and Jeff, and Alby tied tautly against the bed, groaning in agony. Margaret vividly remembered seeing those dreadful purple veins protruding from the boy's body the first time she saw them, as the image had burned itself into the strawberry-blonde's mind.

     "Thomas," Newt said, "what the bloody hell are you doing here?"

     Thomas pulled the tube from his pocket and handed it to Newt. "This. It came up with her in the Box. We think it could save Alby's life." 

     Newt examined the tube and immediately refused to use it. "No way."

     "Why not, Newt?" 

     Newt scoffed. "Thomas, we don't even know what this stuff is. We don't know who sent it. Or why it came up here with you. I mean, for all we know, this thing could kill him."

     "He's already dying. Look at him. How could this possibly make it any worse?"

     Margaret cringed as she heard another groan escape Alby's cracked lips. The prospect of him becoming something far worse than he had been before would have been a nightmare for her.

     Thomas sighed. "Come on, it's worth a try."

     Newt wiped the sweat from his brow and finally nodded in agreement. "All right. Do it, Tommy." 

     Thomas got the tube back from Newt. "Okay." He stood by the edge of the bed, hovered over Alby's grotesque body, and aimed the syringe directly at his chest. As if on cue, Alby shot up, his bloodshot eyes bulging and darting back and forth. He snatched Thomas's shirt and confronted him, hate and anger etched on his ghastly features.

     "You shouldn't be here," Alby yelled, his grip tightening. "You shouldn't be here!"

     "Let go of me!" Thomas shouted.

     Newt, Clint, and Jeff rushed over to pry Alby's sickly body off of Thomas. He quickly turned his head and yelled at Margaret, "Get the syringe!"

     Margaret wasted no time in swiping the syringe from Thomas's grasp and feeling the syringe pierce Alby's chest, causing him to come to a complete stop. He let go of Thomas' shirt and sat back down on the bed, his bloodshot eyes closed and breathing normally. Margaret, gasping, looked down at the syringe in her small hand and dropped it.