Crank killer. Apocalypse survivor. Loner.
Her world was flipped upside down when her brother was snatched from the apocalyptic world for a nasty experiment.
After living alone with her dog for years, killing zombies and hiding from WCKD, she's fin...
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I stood with Greenie, Chuck, and Frypan. Fry being the only one of us three holding a pole.
It was a rather long stick that had another smaller one tethered across the end of it. Used to push. Like a broom.
I spotted Newt and Gally wrestling and carrying Zart towards our half moon surrounding one of the maze entrances. He was stumbling over his feet and crying and yelling.
Like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
It wasn't until he got close that I'd seen his face. His skin was covered now with purple and black veins, his lips were pale but had residue of something black on them. His eyes were wide and bugged out.
Something about it looked nauseatingly familiar.
They threw him in the middle of the half circle. Newt and Gally grabbed their poles and readied themselves. "Poles!"
Everyone with poles began closing in on him, pushing and shoving him with their giant sticks into the Maze. I winced and closed my eyes, turning away. I couldn't watch. Hearing him was enough.
All I heard was yelling and cries of protest and then piercing silence as the doors closed. There he goes. Another one is gone. Just like that.
Everyone set their poles down and sullenly trudged off to their jobs to busy themselves with distractions.
"I'm gonna go check on Alby," Newt said as he left. I watched as Gally made his way to the family stone on the wall. He grabbed his tools and began etching a line through two names.
I watched. Quietly. Every clink of metal hitting metal felt like a stab to my heart. He did Zart's first. Most recent. Then did Minho's. Quietly. Possibly in respect. I wouldn't know.
His brain is a maze in itself.
He set the tools down with a heavy sigh and looked over to me.
"Look. Everyone here and I'm sure you as well think I'm some heartless douche. But I am sorry about what happened to Minho. I uh... know what it feels like to lose people."
Is he being... genuine?
"Um... thanks, Gally," I said, trying my best with at least a fake smile. "I don't think you... totally suck."
Gally snickered and put his head down to hide a grin. "Thanks, Elsie. You uh... take care of yourself."
He left and I looked up at the wall at Minho's name, freshly crossed out. My heart ached. I need some positivity. Some distractions.
I went to see if Fry needed help in the kitchen.
—
"We'll go tomorrow morning. Bring back what we find," Greenie said as he, Ben, and Newt entered the kitchen.
Frypan and I had been busy cleaning the kitchen and mess hall so when dinner came around it was clean and easy to cook and eat in.
Fry had decided on a potato soup for dinner in hopes it would comfort the Glade and send them off to bed easy for the night. So he was collecting and beginning to prep ingredients for it.
"Hey, Elsie," Newt sat on a stool in front of the kitchen. "I had a question."
"Okay," I set the rag aside that I just used to clean the counter. "Ask away."
"We were trying to decide if we could have the greenie's bonfire tonight. We thought it would be a good way to distract everyone and cheer everyone up. But I wanted to clear it with you first. If you're not in the mood or comfortable with it we can do it another time."
I met eyes with Frypan who shrugged. "I've just gotta know so I know what to make tonight."
I glanced down at the counter, sighed a little, and nodded. "He loved the bonfires. I think we should. Make it a big one. Extra, yknow? In his honor."
Newt smiled softly and took my hand. "Now you're thinking like him. Alright. I'll go let everyone know so we can start preparing."
Newt and Ben left, but the greenie stayed behind. Frypan nudged me with a giddy little grin.
"Hey, you two wanna help me make Minho's favorite for tonight?"
"Sure!" The greenie piped up, taking off his new running pack. "What is it?"
As a runner I guess they're required to wear their packs all the time. But removing them for the sake of keeping it clean is different.
Frypan got out a jug of cooking oil, a giant bag of flour, and a big pot. Then he grinned.
"Fried chicken."
—
"Okay now very carefully drop it in the oil."
Frypan and I watched as the greenie slowly dropped a chunk of breaded chicken into the pot. Successfully, might I add.
But the second it was submerged, the oil started broiling and popping and snapping. It shot a squirt of oil onto the greenie's arm.
He immediately cursed, started laughing, and ran to the sink to run it under cold water.
As much as I hate to admit it, all the goofing around we've done in the kitchen has made my heart really happy. Because I know if Minho were here, he'd be doing the exact same thing.
"Hey, greenie, I'd go to the medjacks for that one!"
"Yeah, good idea!" Fry and I couldn't help but laugh as he ran out the door. Gally made his way into the mess hall after he left.
"What's his deal?"
"Burnt himself," I told him. "He really shouldn't be in a kitchen."
"I wanted to include him! He's been looking left out lately because he's new!" Frypan chuckled. "Here to get your drink prepared, Gally?"
"Yup," He said, heading to the back storeroom to a large pair of barrels. He grunted as he lifted one up and out to the seating area of the mess hall. "Elsie, grab me some jars, will ya?"
Frypan raised an eyebrow. Equally as weirded out as I was.
"Today?" He called out.
"Yeah, sure, sorry," I grabbed the big cardboard box of mason jars and brought them out to him. "You um... want any help?"
"What? No," He took the jars. "I got it."
"Okay," I returned to the kitchen with Frypan. It was silent for a while. We heard him sigh. Then he spoke.
