Error | The Maze Runner / Newt ? ?

{1.7}

"You too, Dylan. We're gonna be best friends!"

--

I breathed in a short intake of air as my eyes snapped open. The monitor regulating my vital signs was blurry, but Dr. Mason's figure wasn't when she stepped in my line of vision. She was the same woman whom I had met when I first came to the facility, only now we were much closer six years later, with me at thirteen years old.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. My brain felt like it was swimming. "H-How did you do that?"

"You don't remember meeting your best friend?" Dr. Mason chuckled as she handed me a water bottle. I took it and greedily gulped the icy beverage down; my throat was parched.

"I remember how it happened," I stressed, "but not what we said. I especially don't remember it in that much detail. It was like I was eight years old again, sitting in that room with Miss Hu."

"You didn't remember any of it?"

"I remembered her telling me she knew what it felt like to be different. It's how I knew I could trust her."

Dr. Mason gently brushed a strand of hair behind my ear with a motherly touch. "But that's the thing, Lucy. You did remember. All I had to do was pull it to the front of the hippocampus- the part of your brain in which memories are stored."

I shook my head and set the water onto the small table beside the chair I was sitting in. "This is all too much for me."

The woman flipped through her files on me with her pencil-thin eyebrows pushed together in thought. Her dark skin was starting to wrinkle with age, and I recalled when I had gotten to HQ and she had looked so young. Six years of stress and hard work had taken a toll on her.

"You are remarkable, Lucy," she told me. "Every time we do these tests, you get a better score. We can monitor what you remember and to what extent. For example, you said this memory was in vivid detail. That's amazing, hon. More incredible than I think you realize." She closed my file with a snap. "Our brains work in astounding ways, but I think yours may be more valuable than any other."

--

Cold. So cold. The bed I was strapped to was hard and lumpy, the air conditioning on full blast until I was encased in shivers. The metal restraints around my wrists and calves only added to the discomfort with their freezing temperature.

My head pounded so hard I didn't want to open my eyes in fear my vision would be distorted. Deep, aching thuds mashed my brain until I felt like I was going to throw up. It hurt even worse than when I had woken up in the Box.

An incoherent mutter fell from my lips as my head flopped to the side. I was faintly aware of the fact I was on the move, my stretcher being wheeled down a hallway. A hallway? Wh--

"She's awake," a voice from above commented in an awed tone. "I can—"

Another person shushed the scratchy voice. Then, softly, they said, "Subject B1, you're being transported to the dropoff."

I had no idea what that meant, so I asked in a low, pained voice, "Can I get some painkillers first?"

There was whispering from above that I couldn't make out. They did not reply to my question.

Seconds ticked by. I tensed as a fresh wave of pain knocked my head, making the restraints tighten against my skin. Why was I even restrained? What was going on?

More mutters and the soft clink of metal against metal. I was still now, no longer being rolled down a hallway, and even that made me dizzy. My eyes stayed firmly shut as the people worked on whatever it was they were doing. And then, I felt the distinct sensation of being lowered down.