Chaotic Good

You Have To Come Back

The runners, including Thomas, woke up as the sun rose, shooting them with brilliant vibrant colours. Rising at that hour was a habit that they got from the Glade.

Even if there wasn't a maze for them to run, the runners still liked to run. They ran at their own pace around the safe haven, the familiar feeling they got when they ran temporary pushed away their feelings about leaving the safe haven with people they never knew and a leader that had met shucking werewolves.

They had to leave one of the places they have called home in less than a few hours. Who wouldn't be upset?

But while the runners were at peace doing their morning run, the rest of the camp was in a frenzy. They may have seemed calm to the inexperienced eye, but everyone could read each other like an open book. They knew each other like the back of their hands because they had to in order to escape the maze.

They had to trust each other.

But even each other's presence didn't soothe the panic that filled the air. What could one bring to a trip that could forever change their lives? How could they fill the reminders of their previous home, the Maze, in the limited space they had in their bags?

Nevertheless, they still had their jobs to do whenever a Med-Jack or a Slicer, though the Track Hoes didn't plant new crops, just harvested. They still followed the rules they made in the Maze, one of them being that everyone had to do their part. No slacking.

Beneath the emotions of leaving one of the only places they could call home, was a burning curiosity. What would their new life hold? Would they fit in?

Probably not. The Maze, The Scorch, The Flare, and the deaths all scarred them. Nobody could come out of those events either physically and/or mentally hurt.

But would they be damaged beyond repair? Could this new life and the people in it fix them, these broken teenagers? Because that's what they were: broken teenagers who went through so many battles and betrayals and death.

They were not only broken teenagers, but also broken warriors.

For now, it wouldn't matter what they were, but instead what they could be. The life W.C.K.D put them through was like a nightmare, but now they were waking up and going out to face the world, the real world, for the first time. They would be ready for anything reality would throw at them but the real question was, was reality ready for them?

Most teenagers tended to sleep in. Not these ones. By the time Agent McCall and his team reached the place where Stiles was at, all the teenagers were up and ready and seemed like they were for a long time. That was pretty impressive since it was only 8 in the morning.

Everyone seemed to have a job and knew what they were doing, no matter if it was planting, cooking, or something else. Nevertheless, there seemed to be a great deal of order here and Rafe felt like he was disturbing it with the mere presence of him and his men.

The teenagers parted like the Red Sea to make way for him. They made a path to what looked like a beach. Rafe tried for a smile, but they didn't smile back, only looking at him warily and with untrustworthy glares.

Nobody spoke but if Rafe concentrated hard enough, he could barely hear the low backdrop of the kids murmuring their thoughts, no doubt about him and his crew, to each other. He hoped it was nothing bad, but that was just wishful thinking.

'They must feel worried or scared, or something like that.' Rafe thought.

In truth, Rafe was unsure of this himself. He was going to get the teenagers and bring them back to their base. He was pretty sure that the kids would resist in going with his team.