ADRONITIS (II) : tmr minho

44: I could be Floating

Ella 44

I climb down into the basement, where we worked on the Maps. The weapons that used to be in here are all gone. Newt had them moved yesterday, along with the Maps. Hid them even further back then this room. In the storage closet. My hand grasps the handle.

The door creaks open, the small space slowly filling with light. Leo leans against the wall, curled up in a ball so her face is hidden beneath her brown hair. Boxes lean around her haphazardly. I kneel down, touching her knee and rubbing it back and forth.

"We need the key," I whisper, my fingers tickling at her wrist.

Her head burst up suddenly, smashing against a box. Her hands shake about, trying to catch them. They collapse away from her, falling into the wall. Looking me up and down, she sighs in relief. "I thought you were Jackson."

"He's dead." I tell her, as if I expect her not to know. Someone has probably told her by now. Jackson's death was one of the only things I picked up on last night, from where I watched in the window. At one point, Teresa was with me, but then she was gone. I'm just happy she left.

"I know," she groans, sitting up. "So is Dan, right? The Grievers took him last night."

That wasn't something I picked up on. I woke up, and Chuck was with me, and he wanted to know where Leo was. Of course, I knew, I saw them move her. Thankfully I payed attention to something. Chuck made me come get her.

"Alby talked to me this morning," she tells me. "They couldn't come get me until it was safe to let me out. It could happen again tonight after dark, you know."

I shake my head. It couldn't happen again. Today is the last day. I thought so, but I didn't know if I'd be right. Until Chuck found me. "They won't. I need the key."

She passes it off to me. "How are you so sure?"

"Thomas is awake," I tells her. "They are going to call a Gathering."

When Leo hears this, she practically jumps out of her skin. A few boxes knock over when she stands, but she simply steps over them and heads out the door. Without waiting for me.

I take the key and walk it up the stairs. The hallways are silent, and everyone is gone. Perhaps they are combing the Maze one last time. They should've known all along though. We had the code. We knew the location. Now, we must fight. A short battle, but a battle.

Then, She lies behind these walls. It can't be more than a week. Soon, I will have violets blossoming from my skin.

We used to plant those in the Garden, before Zart died. In fact, we used to do a lot.

I walk past Chuck, who bounces on the balls of his feet as he waits for me. Just a few feet outside the concrete room, itching to get inside. "So, you have it?"

I shake the keys in his face, and he smiles. Thomas is still in the Slammer. Newt is long gone from their conversation, so I am thankful I can speak to Thomas before I let him free.

"What do you remember about me?" I stare him down.

"Let him out," Chuck stands behind me, waiting impatiently. "He says he can get us out of here."

I turn to look at Chuck. My eyes focus on his curly hair/ I remember meeting Chuck long before this. I remember knowing his face, but not his name. It's only barely, and it hurts, but it's there. There was someone else his age. Someone else I knew. "This is more important than any of our lives."

I turn back to Thomas, who freezes. He stares at me carefully, pausing. Perhaps he expects me to speak, but I have no more words.

"I met you a few times, but you didn't like me," he says. "You aren't happy with what I did. What I built."

I know all that. Does he not remember me? Were we barely acquaintances?

"I remember you hated Teresa too," he tells me. "You hated the guy they named you after, I think. You didn't like his paintings. There were books, or something else, but I don't remember. It was foggy."

His paintings?

I hand the keys off to Chuck. He unlocks the door, glancing at me.

"Are you going to have another seizure?" He asks. "Do I need to get Clint?"

I don't want Clint here. He did this to me. I can't be named after a man. That wouldn't make sense. Teresa is named after Mother Teresa, obviously a woman. I don't remember her name, but it had to be something just as feminine. Why am I named after a man?

I don't understand.

What is the solution? What is the solution? There must be one, right? I am not a man. Teresa is named after a woman. What is the solution?

"Ella," Jeff is holding me. We are in the Homestead. He has a scalpel in his hands.

I leap backwards, pressing myself into the wall. He simply stares at me, his face straight and stern. It is frozen in time. I can't hear him breathing.

Then, he looks down at his leg. The scalpel is impaled, deep in his skin. I knocked it out of his hand.

"Klunk," he notices, stumbling. He makes it to the bed, collapsing on to it. Rolling on to his back allows him to sit up and observe the cut. He stares at the injury, looking down at his lap. I watch him move, grabbing his leg and wrapping his belt around it. Carefully pulling the end of the scalpel out of his skin, and applying pressure. I am unable to help.

"I wanted to heal you," he continues to move his fingers. They mesmerize me. "Clint is busy with the Keepers. They're holding a Gathering for Thomas, and I know you know he's awake. You're the one who got Leo. She came and told us. Anyway, since they were busy, I was going to offer to try and remove the chip."

The Swipe? Sometimes I forget I'm floating, and then I find myself here.

"I didn't want to do shuck with it," he tells me, grunting. "Clint thought we could figure out a way to get our memories back. He was wrong, since the chip still attached to your head. If anything, it erased all the memories you had formed since you got here, in only one half of your brain. You're one half was fully erased, and was able to form new memories. The other remembered the old, and the new. When we reattached it, you lost both, so all you have are half your new memories and the memory of having memories, so that was shucked up.

"I didn't know it would bother you that much. I didn't know what you would try. I might be able to fix it, or at least, try to anyway."

I don't answer him. There's nothing to say to him. He still did this to me. I have forgotten so much because of his interference.

"When I'm done stitching myself I can still try," he offers, although it is not committed. "Sorry to unload this on to you, but I would rather ramble than concentrate on this, because man does it shucking hurt. Like, so badly, so you're a good distraction."

I shake my head. I have another plan. Another Solution. If he tries to help, it'll ruin me. It will ruin all of this plan. It's going to work; I can feel it.

"I never wanted to," he looks up at me. "Clint and I, we aren't together anymore. I broke up with him after you hurt yourself. He didn't care properly. Don't get me wrong, it upset him, but it didn't horrify him. Not like it did me. I'm still sorry."

These apologies mean nothing.

I turn around, leaving the room.

~~~~~~

Oh shit, that's a lot of stuff. But like, eh, it's fine. Also, midterms are over for me, so now I can write! Isn't that exciting?

I'll see you soon, in Leo and so much information.