The First Gladers; Into the Scorch

Chapter 4: Sleeping At Last

 As you gaze at your face in the dark mirror you being to see strength beyond the pain. Each scrape, scar, and bruise made you who you are today. They each tell a story of a time you could've given up, but you didn't. You fought 'til the very end.

After a moment you start to smile, proud of who you've become. You're a warrior. You're a leader. You're a friend.

Just as you're about to go back to bed, a sound like howling wind suddenly emerges from behind the door. The ground begins to shake beneath your feet as the walls tremble around you. By instinct you plant your palms on either wall of the bathroom to hold yourself steady. Horrible grinding sounds similar to those of the Maze walls moving fill your ears as fear grips your chest. It's as if a tornado had magically appeared just outside of the bathroom door. Worried for Teresa, you reach out for the door knob, but to no avail. The door is jammed. You jerk and twist and pull on the handle but it won't budge.

Your heart races inside your chest as you fear for what could happen to Teresa. You should've stayed with her. If anything were to happen to her... You can't finish the tough. The guilt alone would kill you if this doesn't kill you first.

Your heart jerks inside your chest as you lose balance, your feet falling out from under you as you crash onto the trembling ground.

You knew there was something wrong with this place. It was all too good to be true. Janson's kindness, the food, the showers, the new clothes and bedrooms. You were a fool to think you could be safe.

Yet, after the longest minute of your life, the sounds stop, and the door is miraculously free from whatever was holding it shut. Just like that it's over, as if it never happened.

Cautiously, you open the door, muscles tense and ready for a fight. Although the room is exactly the same as when you left it. Everything is in its place, undisturbed. Even the clock on the nightstand is in perfect condition with little red numbers reading 12:01. Teresa is sound asleep, sprawled out with her head buried beneath a single blanket. Even though you can't see her face, it's comforting to know that she's there and she's alright.

Still, something seems off. You can't have just imagined all of that? Could you? But as your gaze sweeps the room once more and everything is still in its right place, you decide to tell yourself it was simply a hallucination or dream of sorts. You're tired and you've been trough a lot, it's only to be expected.

So, with that explanation in your mind, you climb back into your bed and curl up under your blanket. As you start to drift off to sleep, you imagine Newt laying in bed thinking of you. It's silly of course. He's probably sound asleep. Yet it's nice to imagine. With a renewed sense of peace, you fall into the most spectacular sleep you've had in two years.

Newt opens his eyes to stare at the dull grey ceiling above him. A cacophony of snores rise from every inch of the room. He shifts in his bed for what seems like the millionth time, unable to find a comfortable position. His thoughts are filled with Y/n's face. The fear in her eyes as the guards pulled her away. She looked at him for safety, for protection, but he just stood there and watched as they took her away.

Newt sits up abruptly, nearly hitting his head on the ceiling as the weight of his thoughts becomes too much. He glances at a small alarm clock on the nightstand below. Just before midnight.

He shakes his head. This has got to stop. There's nothing he can do now. The door is locked, he already tried opening it many times and there is no other way out of the room. He'll just have to wait until morning. Still, the thought of something bad happening to her haunts his mind as he lays his head back on his pillow.

Exhaustion washes over him like a wave as his head hits the pillow. Just seconds before he couldn't stop thoughts from whirring inside his mind, but now he can't form a single complete thought. It's as if his mind has gone numb, forcing him to fall asleep. It's almost unnatural. He's been tired before yet never felt anything like this. Instincts tell him to fight it, like his immune system would fight an infection. Yet, just before the little alarm clock strikes midnight, despite his struggle to stay awake, he falls asleep.

The sounds of screams is the first thing to reach Newt's ears. He bolts up-right, this time hitting his head on the ceiling above.

The room is in chaos. Boys are running around frantically, scared out of their wits by something in the window, which certainly was not there last night. After getting a closer look, Newt can see people, horribly deformed and beaten, screaming and trying to claw their way through the window.

Cranks.

That's what Janson called them. People who have lost their humanity to a disease.

Newt jumps down from his bunk to join the fray, attempting to further block off the window. The Cranks look even worse up close. Their flesh is rotted and fills the room with its stench. They're covered in bleeding sores and open wounds. Their dead eyes stare blankly through the window while their limbs flail ferociously in an attempt to break into the room.

Newt, with the help of Minho, Thomas, and Winston, manage to shove one of the bunks in front of the window. Although it provides an extra layer of protection, it doesn't mask the horrible screams and wails of the Cranks.

Newt shudders as one of the diseased looks him directly in the eye, pleading for help. A hollowness rises within him. These used to be people. Real people.