The Pit
He came to in the Pit.
Of course, he mentally groaned. Of course he would be there.
He blinked blearily, taking in the Pit. It was exactly the same – creaky chair in the corner, muddy walls, stony floor, covered in dirt and dust alike. Thomas felt the bars – wood. He could probably break through, but he was trying not to piss them off. And breaking out of their jail would probably fall into the classification of ‘piss them off’.
Alby’s face, half-shadowed, came into view and momentarily blotted out the sun. Out of instinct, Thomas threw himself back, fingers grasping for something.
“Hey, Greenbean.” Alby said, gently, dark skin even darker due to the lack of light. “You’re not going to run again, okay?”
Thomas didn’t say anything. He didn’t remember saying anything, although his – out-of-breath-ness – probably fit in with his profile. Really, he was just out of breath at seeing apparently dead people alive.
“Good.” Alby said. “My name is Alby.”
Thomas nodded – he already knew that, and anyways he had a good memory. A good grasp on things like names.
“Can you tell me anything about yourself?” Alby continued. “Who you are? Where you came from? Anything at all.”
Thomas knew there was only one answer he could give and he said it quietly, subdued. It came out softly, like a whisper. The one word.
“No.”
“Can you tell me your name?” Alby said, carrying on with the gentle reproach.
Thomas made sure to hesitate a lot. “I, uh, I can’t remember anything.” He said, not quite faking the panic. “Why can’t I remember anything?”
Alby held out a hand to try and soothe him. “It’s okay. Hey, relax. Relax. It’s normal. You’ll get your name back in a day or two. It’s the one thing they let us keep.”
Thomas asked the question.
“What is this place?”
And Alby said, with something akin to pride.
“Let me show you.”
***
“We eat here.” Alby said, gesturing to the mill of Gladers, Homestead, and the Deadheads. “We sleep here.” He pointed to the spot outside of Homestead filled with hammocks. “We grow our own food.” Alby waved a hand in the direction of the Gardens. The whole time, Thomas was craning his neck, trying to spot Newt, with failure.
“We build our own shelter. Whatever we need, the Box provides. The rest is up to us.”
“The Box?” Thomas questioned, looking over to the elevator dug into the ground.
“Yeah.” Alby said. “It’s sent up once a month with fresh supplies and a new Greenie. This month, that’s you.” Alby clapped him on the back. “Congratulations.”
It was so bizarre. Everything was recited word for word, just as he remembered, like a badly written play.
So Thomas said his line.
“Sent up? By who though? Who put us here?”
Alby said grimly.
“That, we don’t know.”
“Hey, are you alright Alby?”
God, Newt.
If it was possible, he looked even better today. His blonde hair tossed over his soft eyes and he looked happier – happier than Thomas had ever seen him, expecting the times they were the two of them, alone.
Thomas internally shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He was not going to think of his best friend that way – who, mind you, wasn’t even his best friend yet. If he would be at all – although, if it all went to plan, he would be.
“Greenbean, meet Newt.” Alby introduced, beckoning Newt. “When I’m not around, he’s in charge.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you’re always around then.” Thomas could sigh in relief at the sound of his voice. The accent, awkward limp…all of it.
“That was some dash you made earlier.” Newt said. They shook hands, and Thomas relished at the feeling of holding Newt’s hand after so long…it had been so long. “For a second, I thought you had the chops to be a runner…until you stopped.”
Newt let go and Thomas almost sighed in sadness at it. Being in contact with Newt was the best thing he had ever experienced…and he had not experienced it in so long.
“Wait, a runner?” Thomas had to ask. Still, the name was pretty self-explanatory.
Alby leaned over and said to Newt. “Newt, do me a favour. Go find Chuck.
“All right.” Newt said, before smiling and Thomas, turning and leaving.
“Thanks.” Alby said, before turning Thomas away from Newt, but he couldn’t help a final glance at Newt’s retreating form. “Look, I’m sorry to rush this. You came up a little late, and there’s a lot to do. We got something special planned tonight.” Alby smiled. “Yeah. You’ll see.”
Alby led him away and to the tall laddered structure they had climbed the last time – and they would do it again.
“I hope you’re not afraid of heights!” Alby called from the top, and Thomas hastened to follow him. “Let’s go. Come on.”
Then Alby launched into his speech.
“This is all we got. We’ve worked hard for it. If you respect this place…you and I will get along just fine.”
Thomas leaned against the wooden railing and asked. “What’s out there?”
Alby ignored his question. “We only have three rules. First, do you part. No time for any freeloaders. Second, never harm another Glader. None of this works unless we have trust. Most importantly…never go beyond those walls.” Alby looked at him. “Do you understand me, Greenie?”
I break all of those rules, Thomas thought. But he still nodded.
Then he saw Chuck.
Chuck. The chubby boy. The chubby boy he loved as a brother.
Thomas let nothing show. It wouldn’t do if they figured him out on the First Day. But he still felt the pain he felt when Gally shot Chuck, the bloody bullet hole appearing in Chuck’s chest. And barkey being able to let go of his grip and Newt had to physically pull him off Chuck to get him to leave.
“Hey, Alby!”
“Hey, Chuck.”
“Where you been, man?” Chuck yelled up.