Maze Runner: The Subject Experiment

6 ✿ W.I.C.K.E.D is Good

"Jemma I want you to have this." Jemma's mother passed over a worn down book.

"What is it?" replied a little girl with dark skin and curly black hair as she reached out to grab it.

"It's a journal, I want you to have it. Never lose it okay? You can use it to write whatever you want, stories and things. I used it when I was younger."

"But why?"

"It's good to write down memories. Then later in your life you'll find stories you wrote that you might have forgotten about. Now, go on and write about today." There was something about her mother's voice, it was different today. It was a voice that was trying its best to hide an urgency.

"Okay..." Jemma begrudgingly took the book and went upstairs. She began to write, a little girl, only seven years old. She didn't know everything was about to change. How could she?

Suddenly the house thundered, a bright light flooded her sight. She was on the ground. She could feel weight, the weight of rubble. An explosion.

Then voices. Her father and mother, their voices, and other voices, strange voices.

"We need her, I'm sorry."

"NO!"

"You know you can't stop us, this is for the greater good."

"She's just a child!"

"Move!"

"I won't let yo-"

Then gunshots. Then silence. Then footsteps.

Jemma wanted to scream. She wanted to scream until her lungs burned. But she was too afraid. So she lay there, silently shaking, as the footsteps came closer, and closer. She clutched the book. She closed her eyes.

Hands pulled her out of the pieces of her home, they grabbed her and dragged her into darkness. She kept her eyes shut, she did not want to see the hands or her crumbled home.

She could tell she was in a vehicle of some sort, the movement and the bumps of an unknown road.

Why?

A hand placed itself on her shoulder. She snapped up with eyes wide open and, as her sight adjusted to the white lights flashing through the window, she could make out a woman's face. She had long pale hair slicked into a smooth ponytail and piercingly cold blue eyes.

"Don't be afraid," she said with a smile. Jem knew the smile was a mask, she did not trust it for a second.

She looked around and saw the others. Other children like her. There was a boy across from her, Asian with short dark hair and tears burning his eyes. Next to him was another boy, dark skinned with a kind face. Next to him was another, then another, then another. As her eyes explored she saw each boy was followed by another, all with tears in their eyes.

Men with guns surrounded them, like hyenas around a carcass.

At the back sat two small children with bright blonde hair, a girl and a boy.

They must be brother and sister.

The older boy was hugging the tiny girl, his brown eyes had wondered and he seemed to be staring into space. Another girl sat beside him, around Jem's age. Her long, straight, blonde hair covered most of her face, but she could see her eyes, those blue eyes so very lost and confused.

Beside her sat yet another girl who simply fidgeted with her wavy brown hair, muttering quietly.

They jolted to a stop and the door was opened. They could hear barking outside, and the cries for help from adult men and women. Suddenly, a boy was pushed in and the door was shut. The men inside shoved him over to sit beside Jemma.

The pale lady leaned forward and said, almost in a whisper, "Thomas, it's okay." She sat back up against the window.

Jemma watched for the boy's reaction. His face held nothing but fear.

"Everything is about to change," declared the woman.

Jem stared blankly at her.

She's going to kill me, she's taking us all to kill us, like they did to my parents.

She looked back at the boy beside her. He met her eye. "My mum..." he whispered to her so quietly that even she could hardly hear. "She just gave me away, she just..." Without warning he burst into tears.

Jemma didn't know what to say. At least her parents resisted, they didn't give her up.

"My mum's gone too...and my dad..." Jemma's words choked her own throat. "Your name's Thomas?"

He nodded.

"I'm Jemma."

"If we never see our parents again...we could be friends...as long as you don't..." He struggled to finish. "Don't leave me alone, okay?"

"I won't. I promise." She lifted up her pinkie finger with a kind smile.  He hesitated, then took it in his own.

"Hey, you two! Sit still," barked one of the men. The children all shuddered simultaneously.

The car stopped again. Jemma and Thomas shared a worried look as the door was opened and the children were ushered out by the strangers.

"Welcome to W.I.C.K.E.D." The pale woman stepped out in her white coat.

Thomas grabbed Jemma's hand. He held it tight.