James Dashner - The Maze runner

“That’s not what I meant,” Chuck said, his voice completely devoid of cheer. It was low and bleak, almost a mumble. “Most of the guys who’ve gone through the Changing remember terrible things they won’t even talk about, which makes me doubt I have anything good back home. So, I mean, you think it’s really possible I have a mom and a dad out in the world somewhere, missing me? Do you think they cry at night?”

Thomas was completely shocked to realize his eyes had filled with tears. Life had been so crazy since he’d arrived, he’d never really thought of the Gladers as real people with real families, missing them. It was strange, but he hadn’t even really thought of himself that way. Only about what it all meant, who’d sent them there, how they’d ever get out.

For the first time, he felt something for Chuck that made him so angry he wanted to kill somebody. The boy should be in school, in a home, playing with neighborhood kids. He deserved to go home at night to a family who loved him, worried about him. A mom who made him take a shower every day and a dad who helped him with homework.

Thomas hated the people who’d taken this poor, innocent kid from his family. He hated them with a passion he didn’t know a human could feel. He wanted them dead, tortured, even. He wanted Chuck to be happy.

But happiness had been ripped from their lives. Love had been ripped from their lives.

“Listen to me, Chuck.” Thomas paused, calming down as much as he could, making sure his voice didn’t crack. “I’m sure you have parents. I know it. Sounds terrible, but I bet your mom is sitting in your room right now, holding your pillow, looking out at the world that stole you from her. And yeah, I bet she’s crying. Hard. Puffy-eyed, snotty-nosed crying. The real deal.”

Chuck didn’t say anything, but Thomas thought he heard the slightest of sniffles.

“Don’t give up, Chuck. We’re gonna solve this thing, get out of here. I’m a Runner now-I promise on my life I’ll get you back to that room of yours. Make your mom quit crying.” And Thomas meant it. He felt it burn in his heart.

“Hope you’re right,” Chuck said with a shaky voice. He showed a thumbs-up sign in the window, then walked away.

Thomas stood up to pace around the little room, fuming with an intense desire to keep his promise. “I swear, Chuck,” he whispered to no one. “I swear I’ll get you back home.”

Just after Thomas heard the grind and rumble of stone against stone announce the closing of the Doors for the day, Alby showed up to release him, which was a huge surprise. The metal of key and lock jingled; then the door to the cell swung wide open.

“Ain’t dead, are ya, shank?” Alby asked. He looked so much better than the day before, Thomas couldn’t help staring at him. His skin was back to full color, his eyes no longer crisscrossed with red veins; he seemed to have gained fifteen pounds in twenty-four hours.

Alby noticed him goggling. “Shuck it, boy, what you lookin’ at?”

Thomas shook his head slightly, feeling like he’d been in a trance. His mind was racing, wondering what Alby remembered, what he knew, what he might say about him. “Wha-Nothing. Just seems crazy you healed so quickly. You’re fine now?”

Alby flexed his right bicep. “Ain’t never been better-come on out.”

Thomas did, hoping his eyes weren’t flickering, making his concern obvious.

Alby closed the Slammer door and locked it, then turned to face him. “Actually, nothin’ but a lie. I feel like a piece of klunk twice crapped by a Griever.”

“Yeah, you looked it yesterday.” When Alby glared, Thomas hoped it was in jest and quickly clarified. “But today you look brand-new. I swear.”

Alby put the keys in his pocket and leaned back against the Slammer’s door. “So, quite the little talk we had yesterday.”

Thomas’s heart pounded. He had no idea what to expect from Alby at that point. “Uh… yeah, I remember.”

“I saw what I saw, Greenie. It’s kinda fadin’, but I ain’t never gonna forget. It was terrible. Tried to talk about it, somethin’ starts choking me. Now the images are gettin’ up and gone, like that same somethin’ don’t like me remembering.”

The scene from the day before flashed in Thomas’s mind. Alby thrashing, trying to strangle himself-Thomas wouldn’t have believed it had happened if he hadn’t seen it himself. Despite fearing an answer, he knew he had to ask the next question. “What was it about me-you kept saying you saw me. What was I doing?”

Alby stared at an empty space in the distance for a while before answering. “You were with the… Creators. Helping them. But that ain’t what got me shook up.”

Thomas felt like someone had just rammed their fist in his abdomen. Helping them? He couldn’t form the words to ask what that meant.

Alby continued. “I hope the Changing doesn’t give us real memories-just plants fake ones. Some suspect it-I can only hope. If the world’s the way I saw it…” He trailed off, leaving an ominous silence.

Thomas was confused, but pressed on. “Can’t you tell me what you saw about me?”

Alby shook his head. “No way, shank. Ain’t gonna risk stranglin’ myself again. Might be something they got in our brains to control us-just like the memory wipe.”

“Well, if I’m evil, maybe you should leave me locked up.” Thomas half meant it.

“Greenie, you ain’t evil. You might be a shuck-faced slinthead, but you ain’t evil.” Alby showed the slightest hint of a smile, a bare crack in his usually hard face. “What you did-riskin’ your butt to save me and Minho-that ain’t no evil I’ve ever heard of. Nah, just makes me think the Grief Serum and the Changing got somethin’ fishy about ’em. For your sake and mine, I hope so.”

Thomas was so relieved that Alby thought he was okay, he only heard about half of what the older boy had just said. “How bad was it? Your memories that came back.”

“I remembered things from growin’ up, where I lived, that sort of stuff. And if God himself came down right now and told me I could go back home…” Alby looked to the ground and shook his head again. “If it was real, Greenie, I swear I’d go shack up with the Grievers before goin’ back.”

Thomas was surprised to hear it was so bad-he wished Alby would give details, describe something, anything. But he knew the choking was still too fresh in Alby’s mind for him to budge. “Well, maybe they’re not real, Alby. Maybe the Grief Serum is some kind of psycho drug that gives you hallucinations.” Thomas knew he was grasping at straws.

Alby thought for a minute. “A drug… hallucinations…” Then he shook his head. “Doubt it.”

It had been worth a try. “We still have to escape this place.”

“Yeah, thanks, Greenie,” Alby said sarcastically. “Don’t know what we’d do without your pep talks.” Again, the almost-smile.

Alby’s change of mood broke Thomas out of his gloom. “Quit calling me Greenie. The girl’s the Greenie now.”

“Okay, Greenie.” Alby sighed, clearly done with the conversation. “Go find some dinner-your terrible prison sentence of one day is over.”

“One was plenty.” Despite wanting answers, Thomas was ready to get away from the Slammer. Plus, he was starving. He grinned at Alby, then headed straight for the kitchen and food.

Dinner was awesome.

Frypan had known Thomas would be coming late, so he’d left a plate full of roast beef and potatoes; a note announced there were cookies in the cupboard. The Cook seemed fully intent on backing up the support he’d shown for Thomas in the Gathering. Minho joined Thomas as he ate, prepping him a little before his first big day of Runner training, giving him a few stats and interesting facts. Things for him to think about as he went to sleep that night.