The Cost of the Cure

Chapter 87

Gally's eyes dance with a raging insanity. His clothes hang off his frame in filthy tatters. He drops to his knees, taking deep, heaving breaths. His eyes dart around the room and they glint with a look that sends yet another wave of chills racing down your spine. If he tries to kill one of you, you wouldn't be surprised in the least.

"They'll kill you!" Gally screams, spit flying everywhere. "The Grievers will kill you all-- one every night till it's over!"

You watch, still paralyzed in place by shock as Gally staggers to his feet and walks forwards with a heavy, dragging limp. No one moves a muscle. Even Newt stand in place, mouth agape.

Gally comes to a stop in front of Thomas and points at him with a blood crusted finger. He sways on his feet and a smile creeps across his face, curling his lips up. His eyes dance. "You. It's all your fault!"

He rears back and punches, his fist slamming into Thomas' ear.

You snap out of your daze the same time as Newt, and push Gally away. He stumbles, then falls backwards onto the desk under the window. The lamp, resting on it until now, falls and shatters onto the floor.

Any hope of the Grievers never noticing you crumbles. Currently, you're in the loudest room in the entire Glade.

"It can't be solved," he rasps, picking himself back up. "The shuck Maze will kill all you shanks... The Grievers'll kill you... one every night till it's over... I... It's better this way. They'll only kill you one a night... their stupid Variables..."

You listen to Gally in horrified fascination. There's no way he could be making that all up.

Newt steps forwards, his arms stretched forwards and palms facing Gally in a placating gesture. "Gally, shut your bloody hole-- there's a Griever right out the window. Just sit down and be quiet, maybe it'll go away."