teen wolf/maze runner

Chapter 2

Thomas! Thom-

"Thomas! You got to wake up!" The voice was foggy, panicked. Thomas squeezed his eyes and grunted. His cheeks stung.

"Ahh... come on" an annoyed voice rushed. Another slap on the face opened Thomas' eyes to painfully blinding white light. His head throbbed painfully when he attempted to sit up.

"What? Where..." His voice was drawled and slow. But hands were already yanking him to his feat. Thomas' knees caved, his sore head slamming on the floor, sending painful pulses to the back of his skull. Big and concerned blue eyes focused on him.

"Thomas, I can't hold all your weight. You have to stand up." Theresa's arms latched under his armpits and heaved him up again. Thomas grunted at the burn in his stretched arms but willed his legs to hold his weight. His whole body ached, shaking with a constant pulse. He felt a hundred times heavier. The two slowly limped out of the room, away from the bed Thomas was strapped onto. Boots crunched on broken glass as the teenagers dragged on. Thomas wondered when the plan had gone wrong. His knees wilted, and he sagged back to the ground, giving into the pull of gravity. A distant yell of frustration pierced into Thomas' head, awakening a deafening migraine. Theresa had betrayed them. She called WICKD to peck at the Gladers like experiments and drain the life out of them until they found a cure.

Thomas was not supposed to get caught. They came here for... Minho. Where was Minho? Thomas couldn't remember why he was missing. But... Newt came on the rescue mission. Newt, the boy with the bullet in his head. Another friend that Thomas couldn't save. He relished the sting of glass prodding his forehead to distract the thundering thoughts in his head. Theresa's shouts slowly faded away, along with his sight. Once again he lay on the cold stone floor, the chill seeping into his bones before complete and utter darkness.

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Minho's feet thundered as he raced down the empty and emotionless halls. His shoulder slammed into a wall as he turned a corner. He huffed, searching for any promise of escape or freedom. He heard the distant shouts of guards and wailing of startled doctors. Minho's adrenaline was fading away and confusion was seeping in. Then he stopped. He recognized the sound of Theresa calling on the other side of one door. Thick red blood crawled under the slightly opened metal door. Minho told himself that he should keep going. That that girl had willingly tortured him for six months. He would have a better chance to escape from this hellhole. His legs hummed, ready to set off sprinting at a moment's notice.

Ah, fuck it. Minho inched closer to the door, more carefully. Every cell in his brain screamed at him to save himself, to keep running. But instead curiosity won and his finger creaked the door open wider.

Theresa was pleading over an unconscious body. Thomas, Minho thought to himself. At the corner of the room, Janson was rubbing his head. He seemed to be gaining consciousness. Theresa or Thomas must have knocked him out. Theresa was glancing over her shoulder and matted hair to the WICKD man. She whimpered as he stood up. He no longer wore his amused smirk, but a furious glare. Within moments, Theresa was being dragged across the glass-covered floor and screaming for Thomas. Despite all that she had done to him, Minho still itched to go save his former friend. The utter terror and hopelessness radiating out of her vibrant eyes made his skin crawl and scattered his thoughts. After hesitating, Minho dashed towards Thomas and kept his head bowed. He tried to ignore the sound of Janson slamming Theresa's head against a table. He hauled Thomas over his shoulders and ran. Minho expected to hear Janson shout, but received unsettling and eerie silence. Again, Minho's stomping and breathing deafened any thoughts. He focused only on the precious, unconscious life he was holding. He needed to keep Thomas alive.