The Silent Runner

22. burnt

I woke up on a metal table, in a white room, with people all around me, passing tools, clicking keyboards, whispering and pointing as my eyes were now open. I heard a voice. "They'll know everything soon. There's no point in keeping you quiet anymore. It'll take some time to get used to," he paused seeing my eyes open. It was Janson, dressed in all white, staring back at me. He really did look like a rat. I chuckled to myself and tried to move my arm to strike him but, of course, I was restrained. Immediately, the anger that swelled inside me began to show as I shook and tugged at the leather braces around my limbs. Janson got closer, nearly putting his mouth to my ear. I wanted nothing more than to slam my head into his, but I now noticed I couldn't move my head. "There's no escape from us, Nina. You're all doing exactly what we want you to. Remember that." That name, Nina, the one that felt so familiar, it made me feel safe before but now I'd only remember it from Janson's tongue. He said it so comfortably and casual. It made me feel sick. Then I realized I couldn't feel anything, not the metal table beneath me, the restraints on my wrists and ankles, or the air going into my lungs. It felt surreal. I looked down to see Janson's hand on my thigh. I didn't even know how long it'd been there. Suddenly, I couldn't move.

I tried to scream, only silence filling the air. In my head it was so loud but not one other person reacted. I resisted staring at the bright light and the objects being passed around from doctor to doctor. Janson smiled at me while the edges of my vision began to turn white as if ice was freezing over my eyes. Somewhere, in all the silence, the bright white turned into black and when I opened my eyes, I was still in the same building, with all the other Gladers. Everyone was already awake. They were safe. I was okay. I stretched, realizing it was all just a dream.

"Was that a joke?" I heard Minho say. "Did Thomas the boring slinthead actually make a joke?" I smiled to myself, suddenly feeling a relief wash over in the presence of my friends.

"I think he did," Newt responded.

"I'm a funny guy," Thomas said, shrugging. I rolled my eyes as well as Minho did.

"Yeah, you are," He said, clearly not interested anymore.

What happened to him?

"Bolt dropped right in front of him," Aris said a bit loud, knowing I was expecting Thomas to answer.

"Don't know why I'm still alive."

"Cause of me, shank," Thomas said, sitting beside us. Other boys around the room refused to move or talk or even sigh. Their friends were dying all around, I couldn't blame them.

Thomas looked around at the others, a sad expression staining his face. His eyes were jumping from boy to boy, till they got to me. He attempted to rub sand and sweat from his brow.

"There's only twelve of us," Newt said in an unusually calm tone.

"So, what, six died in the storm? Seven?" Minho asked, staring at the door we'd entered before.

"Seven," Thomas snapped, clearly upset at Minho's careless words. "Unless some others made it to another building." The boys bickered back and fourth as I tuned out of their conversation and looked up after feeling something drop on my shoulder, and then another on my head. I gazed at a deteriorated hole. I could see into several floors above us. Was it still withering away? Was someone messing with me? I looked around at the other Gladers, all minding their own business and most still in shock.

Thomas? I thought, looking up into the hole.

They continued arguing. "I never asked to be the shuck leader," Minho continued on while Thomas listened. I was still staring, curious of what could be lurking above us until I noticed the ground. A few bigger chunks of concrete debris and pebbles scattered around but not enough to explain the damage to the floors above. Where was the rest of it?