What If | tmr, newt ✓

Chapter 26

That night, I lay in my hammock until I thought I was the only one left awake, dried tears staining my cheeks.

I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to believe that the Changing had made Ben go insane. I didn't want to believe he would attack another Glader. I didn't want to believe that Alby could just pick up a bow... and shoot him.

But most of all, I didn't want to believe that my friend was dead.

***

In the morning, I worked in a haze, monitoring the girl in shifts with the other Med-jacks as well as being frequently visited by Alby. I hadn't ever seen him in one place for so long as today.

"Done anything different?"

I place my hands on my hips. "Not since last time. Like I said, all she says is 'Thomas', 'Cassia', and some inaudible nonsense about WCKD."

Alby rubs his eyes with the heel of his palms. "This makes no shucking sense. I-"

But he was interrupted by the sound of someone shouting his name. Muffled and barely audible, but definite. He gives me one last pointed stare before rushing out the door, leaving me alone with the girl again.

"Why'd they send you, huh?" I say quietly, looking down at her disapprovingly. She shouldn't be here. It wasn't right to send up someone half-dead.

The only response I get is a muted, "Thomas", and I sigh, re-assessing the situation. I take the note from where it was put on the bedside, and my eyes read over the lines countless times. She's the last one. Ever.

What the shuck was it supposed to mean? She was the last ever girl? She was the last ever Greenie? She was the last anything that will arrive in the Box? My mind was a scrambled mess of confusion and grief, but if there was one thing I knew, it was that the Box hadn't gone back down. And that couldn't mean anything good.

Everything is going to change, she had said. The words are stuck on replay like a broken record player, a constant echo of foreshadowing. She'd been right so far.

As if my thoughts on this triggered the next actions, I heard a commotion downstairs. Confused, I made a split-second decision to follow Alby's orders, staying by the girl's side even as I hear at least four voices shouting orders and making a generally loud clamour. I'm itching to find out what's happening, but the last time we left an unconscious person alone... well.

Another voice joins the tumult, barking commands, and I recognise it as Alby. Thank God. Someone to restore some order downstairs.

When he enters the room, I stand up, scared by his wide eyes and panicked expression. "Adalyn, I need you to come with me. Leave the girl. She ain't going nowhere anytime soon."

Before I have time to think, he's back out the door, taking the steps two at a time downstairs. "What's happening?"

"An awful shucking lot is happening. Just ignore what's going on down here. Something else is more important," he says, slamming shut the door to the room where the other boys must be, still making a racket.

He grabs a water bottle from the last room and is running across the Glade before I can even register what's happening. I follow him, catching up within seconds. "Where are we-"

But I answer my own question as soon as I start it. Outside one of the Doors, I can make out two figures; one standing, and one seemingly collapsed on the ground. Surveying his posture, his muscled build, and dark hair, I can immediately recognise him as Minho. Alarm flares up inside me. He shouldn't be back for at least another four hours.

I reach them first, realising the second boy is Thomas, and kneel down next to Minho. "Are you okay? What happened? Why are you back?"

"Calm the shuck down. You're almost as bad as the Greenie." Alby hands him the bottle and he takes a long swig, sitting upright. He looks exhausted, face red and sweat drenching his clothes.

He finally caps the bottle and puts it down. "I found a dead one."

"Huh?" Alby asked. "A dead what?"

"A dead griever."

I'm mid-way through tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear when I hear this. I pause, images of the monsters flashing in my sub-conscious and trying to register what he just said. A. Dead. Griever?

"Ain't a good time for jokes," Alby says disapprovingly.

"I wouldn't believe me if I were you either. But I'm telling you, it's out there."

My eyes flick upwards and meet Thomas'. They're full of fascination, staring back at me as if I somehow understand.

"You found a dead Griever," Alby repeated, slowly.

"Yes, Alby," Minho says, words dripping with annoyance and desperation. "Out near the Cliff."

"Well... why didn't you bring it back with you?"

Minho catches my gaze. Briefly, but enough for me to see a shadow of fear flicker over his face. "Those things probably weigh half a ton. Plus, I wouldn't voluntarily touch one again if you gave me a free trip out of this place."

At the word 'again', the Greenie's mouth opens, but I cut him off with a hard stare. He decides not to question. Smart boy.

"What did it look like?" I ask.

"You gotta see it for yourself. It's... weird."

At the mention of such a notion I feel my stomach churn. I didn't want to see another Griever, dead or alive.

"Weird?" Alby presses.

"Dude, I'm exhausted and starving. But if you really want to go now, we could probably just make it there and back before the Doors close."

Alby contemplates for a moment before deciding. "Better wait 'till tomorrow."

"Smartest thing you've said all week." Minho visibly sighed with relief. "Falcon, you should come too."

I mentally recoil from the thought - if that was even possible.

"Who's Falcon?" Thomas looked confused.

Minho and I roll my eyes simultaneously. "Work it out, shuckface," he says before standing. "I know what your answer is." He turns to me. "But just sleep on it, okay?" And with those last words he hobbles off towards the kitchen.

"I think you should head back to the Homestead," Alby says to me. Of course - with all that just happened I had forgotten about the commotion. "They might be needing your help."

I nod, taking off back towards the poorly built shack. Behind me I can hear the traces of the leader and the Greenie in a quiet argument: Alby hadn't exactly taken a liking to the kid. Perhaps it had something to do with everything going wrong the moment he turned up.

I push open the front door and slow to a walk as it closes behind me of its own accord. All the noise from earlier seemed to have dimmed down.

I find Clint and Jeff discussing something in hushed tones, upstairs in Teresa's room. "Is everything alright? What happened earlier?"

They stop talking, sharing a tense glance before looking back to me. The unconscious girl between us was like an omen of the dead. "Head over to the Slammer. You'll see for yourself."

They offer no more of an explanation as I sprint back downstairs. It felt like that was all I had done today: upstairs, downstairs, running around for the sake of it. If I was heading to the Slammer, that couldn't mean anything good.

I finally reach the jail, stopping at the furthest cell where I spent my first night. I kneel down on one knee, hands shaking as I hold on to the wooden bars for support. At the far side, a solitary boy sits against the wall, breathing unsteadily and tears falling uncontrollably. He looks up when he realises my presence, gleaming eyes pleading at me for help. My breath catches in my throat, rising heartbeat blocking out all other noises as it pounds in my ears.

It was Ben.

Very much alive.