Trapped: A Maze Runner Fanfic // Gally

Chapter II: The Last One

        A voice in the back of your head protests. ‘Greenie? I’m not Greenie, I’m… ’ Then it hits you. Hard. You don’t know your name. You don’t remember a thing before the elevator. You stare up at the tall boy, a million thoughts swirling around in your mind, but you manage to only blurt out a single word. “Where…?” He completely ignores you, calling another boy over instead. “Newt, get over here and give the greenbean a royal tour.” Up walks a boy, presumably Newt. He too is tall, about 5”11, but far less intimidating; a much softer expression painted on his face. He also appears disheveled, with tussled light-brown hair and grime on his hands. As he approaches his square jaw tenses slightly, and you recognize his voice as the British boy who spoke down at you before.

“Bloody hell, Gally! She’s probably scared out of her wits. We should let Alby decide what to do with her.” The voice in your head begins to speak again. ‘What to do with me? What is this?’ Your heartbeat picks up, and you reach into your pockets, looking for anything you can use to protect yourself. Instead of a weapon, you feel a piece of paper. Jabbing your fingers in deeper, the parchment falls out and onto the ground. The boy named Gally notices, and sweeps down to pick it up.

“What’s this?” He asks rhetorically, eyeing you suspiciously. The paper crinkles as he unfolds it, and you watch a flash of panic cross his green eyes. His jaw drops a little. From the crowd emerges a third, dark-skinned boy, shorter than the two others.

“What’re you shuckfaces doing? We already got our monthly ship-“ He cuts off when he sees you. Confusion sweeps across his face, and he scans the faces of the other boys, looking for an explanation.

“She came with a note.” Gally says, not looking up from the paper. The dark-skinned boy takes it from his hands, eyebrows furrowing as he reads it.

“Well come on then, what does it say?” A voice from the crowd yells.

The boy speaks, voice slightly cracking at the last word. “It says… that she’s the last one. Ever.”

The group erupts into sudden discussion. The unnamed boy whispers something inaudible to Newt, and you find yourself following him out of the crowd. You can finally spot your surroundings, no longer towered over by the boys. You’re in a large field of long, uncut, patchy grass; the size of a couple football fields. Each of the four sides is surrounded by a tall stone wall, forcing you to crane your neck to see the top. In one corner you see a collection of dense trees, making up what looks like a small, dark forest. The three other corners consist of a wooden, stick-comprised, single-storied building, a garden, and an animal pen, next to another crudely built shack. It’s all too much to take in. Your whole body begins to shake, and the familiar feeling of panic sweeps over you once again. Your mind begins to go blank, and you can feel yourself collapse. Eveything goes black.