Escaping the Maze

Chapter 3

There's a lot of murmurs around the room when Sonya says this, but she quickly settles things down.
"We've held this meeting because our newbie here today is not like the rest of us. He's a boy. We need to discuss what we think is best for him."
Shouts break out all around me, and I can't make out a single voice.
Once again, Sonya quest things down and stands up straighter.
"Everyone stop acting foolish! We need to figure out what needs to happen with him." Sonya says with leadership. "One leader at a time."
She points to a row of about ten people, the first stands up. She has long straight blonde hair and glasses.
"I say we let him be a normal glader." She says, sitting back down.
"Thank you, Jennifer." Sonya says, smiling.
I'll remember to thank her later, I think as the next person stands up.
"A week in the slammer. He could be dangerous." A girl with wavy brown hair says, sticking her chin out.
"Okay Beth." Harriet says, rolling her eyes.
All the rest said the same things. Some normal, some slammer. It kind of worried me that I didn't know what the slammer was. I'm pretty sure I didn't want to find out though.
"Okay, me and Harriet say normal glader. But that makes it five to six, sorry Aris, you get a week in the slammer." Sonya says, looking crestfallen as she ties my hands behind my back.
I hear Rachel suck in her breath sharply as my punishment is discussed.
She grabs my arm, and I ask her what the slammer is.
"It's a dark building out of the way. You use it for prisoners and you lock them in there with limited food and water each day." She says, looking sadly at me. Then she lowers her voice. "But you won't have to worry about that." She says, winking at me.
"Alright, get up Aris. You get a week in the slammer, no more, no less." Sonya says, grimacing as she tugs on the rope with bleeding fingers.
I don't say anything as Sonya, Harriet, Beth and another glader haul me off to the slammer. Rachel follows, insisting she'll help untie the rope.
We stop in front of a small dingy-looking box with a barred window. Harriet pulls out a set of keys and unlocks the door. She ushers me in, and Rachel follows me inside. She untied my wrists silently, and shoots one more look at me before leaving.
I swear in her gaze she was trying to say: I'll be back. But I could've just imagined or hoped it.
Harriet locks the door back up, and every glader leaves.
I sit in silence, staring at the brick walls, trying to figure something out, anything. Nothing comes to mind, but all I can think about is being next to Rachel, the familiarity of it. I move over to the window, putting my hands between the bars, trailing off into thought.
"WICKED is good." I'd said. What does that even mean?
I keep asking myself questions I know won't be answered.
Why am I here?
Who sent me here?
Who's WICKED?
I'm tired of so many questions and no answers.
I'm startled back to reality when two warm hands cover mine. I blink, and find two grey-blue eyes staring into mine.
I stumble backwards, tripping over a small cot.
"Hey, it's just me, Rachel. I'm not that bad right?" Her eyes crinkle at the sides and the corners of her mouth turns upwards.
"No, not at all." I say, walking back over, blushing. "Sorry, you just scared me."
"Am I honestly that bad looking?" She says, again joking.
"Not at all." I say, heat rising to my face.
"Well, I'm just here to talk to you." She says shrugging. "I can't believe they put you in this thing. You did nothing wrong. They're all stupid. Mabel is ranting on about how she saved us all from your 'dangers'." She says, laughing.
"Wow, maybe she should specify some of my 'dangers', because I'm not quite aware of them." I say, laughing back, and it feels good to smile.
"I wish you could be free, like me. We could relax and I'd just 'feel sick' because I'm supposed to try being a slicer today with Winston. Yuck." She makes a face, and pretends to vomit.
"Yeah, same here. So, when do you choose your job?" I ask, resting my forehead against the cold metal bars.
"I think in a day or two. I'm going to be a medjack. I'm not really good at anything else. I've already decided." She says, shrugging.
"I'm sure you're good at a lot of things." I say, smiling. "Almost everything."
She smiles, and it's not like those fake smiles that a lot of girls in the Glade wear. No, it's a real smile.
"Thanks, I bet you're good at a lot of things too." She says, leaning her face up against the bars, and kissing my cheek lightly.
I stand there, frozen, my mind still processing what's happened.
"See you later." She runs off, but not before I see red creeping into her face.
•••
Six days later, Rachel is a medjack, and it's my last day in the slammer. She stops by in the morning to bring me a small slice of bread and a glass of milk. We talk for a little, and then she has to go back to healing. She does the same at lunch and dinner.
At dinner, she's allowed to stay for a little longer, until she has to sleep.
I hate nights the most, the cot is really scratchy and all there's for comfort is a thin blanket with multiple holes and a stain that looks suspiciously like blood.
I try to fall asleep quickly, so I don't have to feel the uncomfortableness of the night.
I wake up in the morning, and rub my eyes. I've slept in, it's probably around 10:00. I'm being let out at 12:00. Two more hours.
I hope Rachel is letting me out, I think. Knowing that probably won't be the case.
•••
I'm staring at the wall in front of me when I hear a voice from the bars.