SOJOURNER (III): tmr gally

We should have bled with them

Leo Short

My hands shake while they hold the cold plastic cup. I haven't felt my body shiver in who knows how long. Even though my body is dehydrated. Even though I'm probably concussed.

The rest of my friends have disappeared out of the main hold. Ella is gone, Michelle slipped away unnoticed, and Dawn is with Newt in the medical centre. Minho wasn't out long, but it's the stab wounds that concern us more.

I didn't go with them, even though I know I should. Right now, I shouldn't be in a medical unit. There, I know all the words, all the procedures, and all the faces of the wounded.

Unlike the loud and bustling medical room, the cafeteria of the ship is quiet. It's only hidden behind a door left ajar. From here, I listen to the faint hum of the lights, and the chattering of the two doctors working isde. Though I belong there, my brain needs a pause. I haven't been able to catch up on all the information I need to know moving on.

Who died?

In this most recent fight, Rose and Doug died. Two others that I didn't know, but I couldn't identify them. Still, I don't actually know Rose and Doug. They were Michelle's friends, not mine. Doug from the Maze. He was a Builder, and a backup Runner.

I once treated him from getting hit by Michelle. He didn't rat her out, even though she obviously shucked him up. If I had known him before his death, I would have thanked him.

Rose spent a lot of time with Michelle but was otherwise quiet.

The table in front of me clangs. I look up to see Fry setting his plate down in front of me. His lips moving, muttering out a quick apology, he pulls himself up to sit next to me.

He doesn't say anything else; the only sounds from his lips are the slurping of liquid from a Styrofoam cup. I can't help but find myself staring. His skin is cracking and peeling from sun damage. There is blood on his shirt, a small gash on his arm. It doesn't have a bandage on it, not that he needs one, but it should at least be washed out.

"You're analyzing me," he smiles, looking down.

I squeeze the cup tighter in my fist, before carefully dropping it on the table. "It's just a habit."

"I've noticed," he takes a bit of the food on his plate, some sort of pasta. He swallows it, but grimaces. "Habits from the Maze don't really just go away. I still check over my shoulder whenever I eat, to see if Frankie has spiked my food."

They lost Frankie very early on. Joe even before that, but at least Fry isn't waiting for Joe anymore. Only one other guy I remember working in the kitchen, although it was only part time. Dave. It's just Fry and Dawn left from the kitchen.

Even though Clint is still breathing, I feel like I'm the only Med-jack left. When I bandage people, I can still sometimes hear Jeff's voice whispering in my ear, asking me not to go so harshly.

"You'll wash your arm, right?" I ask.

Fry nods but pauses. "If you agree to make sure Dawn is okay. She's going to burst a hernia looking after Minho.

Dawn Short

Newt continues to pace the floor, walking up and down the aisles. His feet echo off the metal ground, crunching against the trails of wet sand he leaves behind. I try my best to ignore him, trying instead to focus on my shoes. They are soaked in Doug's blood, as is my shirt. My pants are still stained from the cliffside. Leo said I should see one of their doctors, but if she isn't going for her possible concussion, I'm not going in. At least, not until I know Minho is safe.