Trapped: A Maze Runner Fanfic // Gally

Chapter I: Welcome to the Glade, Greenie

        Huffs of breath escape your bleeding mouth.  You’re sitting, no, laying, on something icy; metal, is it? Sounds of machinery surround you; clinging and clanging sharply. Ears ringing, head throbbing, staring into pitch-black nothingness. Blood or iron, a metallic scent fills your nose. A cage? No… a cell? It’s moving. How fast, you don’t know; your senses as blurred as your groggy head. Whatever you’re in, wherever you are, it has walls. You feel up as much of the crude contraption as you can; pawing for any sign of an entrance or exit. No luck.

        You can practically hear your own pulse, adrenaline jetting through every vein. Panic envelopes your body, your knees buckle and you pound the metal floor beneath you, half-expecting it to give in. The elevator jerks suddenly and you find yourself sprawled on the chilled floor, instinctively holding your now-pounding head. You reposition yourself against a wall to discover that you’re not moving anymore, and everything goes deadly quiet. The only sound is that of your own ragged breathing. You claw at the walls, desperately trying to find something, anything, to steady yourself on. The silence is psychological torture. It does not last long however, something above you roughly creaks open; then a shocking sound of metal on metal. A ray of light peeks out from overhead, too bright for your contracted pupils. Your hands fly to your face as the cage fills with sunlight, catching you off guard. You peep from between your fingers to glimpse at what looks like two large doors opening overhead, letting in more and more light. Your pupils dilate to reveal many illuminated silhouettes, staring down at you from feet above. Shocked, you fall back onto the hard ground, attempting to distance yourself from the figures as much as possible. You can hear them, all of them, murmuring to each other in unconcealed whispers.

“...What do you see?” You hear a slightly feminine male voice ask.

“Is this some kind of a trick?” Says another, this time huskier.

“It’s a… girl.”

Exclaims a third voice, coated with a heavy British accent and a hint of surprise. One of the figures pushes his way through the gathering of boys, wanting to get a better look at what lay below. He bends down feet above you, scanning you up and down, his presence driving you further against the metal cage. He walks forward, blocking your sunlight, allowing you to see him clearer. He’s quite tall, definitely over 6 feet, with a husky build and short, messy, dirty blonde hair. Every inch of him is intimidating, his confident demeanor detailed with two highly arched eyebrows, darker than his sandy hair. He has a slightly suntanned face, accented with a broad nose and two pink, plump, slightly parted lips. You notice his outfit is filthy, caked with dirt and sweat. You can tell both he and his clothes have been through the mill. His military-like boots inch closer and closer to you, your breath hitching with each step. He reaches out one of his strong, veiny arms towards you; an invitation. You cautiously eye him, half-wanting to take it and half-wanting to stay in your comparatively safe cage. Your first urge gets the better of you, and you slowly extend your hand to meet his. He takes it, suddenly jerking you from your safe, metal box and up onto the hard ground where the rest of the figures stand, watching you. You quickly get to your feet, as the boy who helped you out speaks:

“Welcome to the Glade, greenie.”