Count On Me ➵ Newt [1]

TWO | my new job

▬I was not going to be a Slicer.

The first day of 'work experience' in the Glade was over. Since I was in Group 7, my first day was with Winston, the Keeper of the Slicers. And the experience had not gone well. I swore to myself I would never touch a single hunk of raw meat again as I exited the Blood House. The sight and smell of all those dead animal meat was enough to make me vomit.

On the second day, my group was with Minho, Keeper of the Runners. This one I was excited for―I had heard all about what the Runners do, and I was 100% sure that the job was way better than being a Slicer. 

When the doors to the maze opened, Minho led the group out into the labyrinthian corridors, his steps confident and sure as he ran. He hesitated a few times, but other than that, he seemed to know his way around the area quite well. The rest of us tried to catch up with him as best as we could. The less fit of us lagged behind, breathing heavily. Thankfully, I was not one of those people as I didn't know if I could bear the humiliation. I wasn't the best, but I wasn't bad either―I was more or less average.

By the time it was midday, I was sweating profusely―my lungs felt like they were on fire. I wondered how the Runners managed to do this everyday.

On the third day, I was with Gally. The entire day I helped expand the Homestead and carried equipments to whoever needed it. The job was okay, but it required strength, and as much as I hated to admit it I wasn't as strong as the boys. The fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh jobs were all fine, though I must say I did not enjoyed the Slopper job as well as I did the others.

The week ended, and the Gladers all around me all looked either excited or discouraged. I was among the discouraged bunch. I didn't know which job I liked the most: I found being a Runner quite exhilarating, but I already knew deep down in my heart that Minho would never elect me as a Runner. Being a Cook was fun as well, but it wasn't the best job out there.

The next day, I joined the crowd of Gladers in the Homestead. Everyone was chatting with each other, full of excitement. I found myself fidgeting with the hem of my shirt nervously. When Alby stood up, everyone inmediately went silent. Chatters and conversations ceased to quiet and all eyes fell upon the leader.

"Alright, imma just cut to the chase here," Alby said. "Where's my list?"

Newt stood up from his seat and handed Alby a stack of papers.

"Okay, the following people have been elected by Minho to be Runners: Newt, Ben, Hank, George, Nick and Dan."

The six people cheered and slapped each other's backs affectionately. I saw Newt smile, obviously pleased with the arrangements.

"For the Cooks, Frypan wishes for Jonathan, Will and Leo to join him in the kitchen. Kris and Eric are going to work as Builders with Gally. As for the Bricknicks..."

Alby listed off names and tasks, and so far, I have not heard my name yet. I stared at the floor of the Homestead, fidgeting. What if I wasn't good enough for any of the jobs? What if I was forced to join the Sloppers in cleaning up the toilets and mess?

"...and Frederick, the Keeper of the Med-jacks, has chosen Clint, Rosalind and Jeff to work with him."

My head shot up―did I hear that right?

The boys named Clint and Jeff high-fived each other and patted the other's backs. They even beckoned me over to them, but I was still in shock.

Med-jack?

When Alby had finished rattling off everyone's names, he dismissed us and asked for anyone who were unsatisfied with their new job to talk to him. A few Gladers moved forward to speak with him, but otherwise, everyone else seemed pretty happy with their new work.

I followed Frederick, Clint and Jeff out of the council room in a daze. They walked further into the Homestead, where the wounded were usually treated. There were rooms separated by hastily-built wooden walls. Each station consisted of a bed, a chair, and nothing else. A room at the far end of the building contained cupboards and drawers filled with medical supplies.

"Alright, so here's where we keep the bandages and band-aids," Frederick said, gesturing to the nearest cupboard. "The syringes are over here, and so are the pills..."

The tour went on for ten minutes, and no one said a word as Frederick showed us around. When he was done, he led us into one of the patient rooms and said: "I would demonstrate to you three how to treat a patient, but since we have no one here to test on..."

As if on cue, someone knocked on the door and poked his head in.

"Hey, Frederick," he said. "Mind bandaging me up again? I cut my hand again."

Frederick sighed. "Really, dude? This is like your fifteenth time man. And it has only been three weeks!"

The boy grinned at him. "I take that as a yes?"

"Yes, whatever. Get your butt on the bed, Mark."

The boy called Mark scooted over to the bed and sat down while Frederick went to get the supplies. There was a giant cut on Mark's hand, which was dripping blood onto the floor. The cut looked ugly and painful, but he didn't seemed to notice or care. When Frederick came back, he snapped his fingers to get our attention and pointed to Mark.

"Watch carefully, you three," he said.

I watched alongside Clint and Jeff as Frederick tended to Mark's wound and bandaged it carefully. The boy winced once or twice, but he seemed to have gotten used to the pain.

"And... we're done!"

Frederick stepped back and faced Mark with a stern look. "Get outta here now. And stop injuring yourself, for klunk's sake!"

"I'm a Slicer, when am I not injured?" Mark said with a playful grin, and disappeared out the door before Frederick could kick him.

"He's right, though," Frederick said, turning to me, Clint and Jeff. "Because of their dangerous work, the Slicers tend to get hurt a lot. So be prepared to see more of them."

"Can't wait," Clint snickered.

[ END OF CHAPTER TWO ]