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measuresderepo · 8 months

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Wow did I write an angsty fic about Gally?? Set in the time between The Maze Runner and The Death Cure? No way.

@shuck-it-slinthead

@go-catch-a-chickn

@its-tea-time-darling

@pealeii

Title: Pesar Means Son

Word Count: 11k

TW: Attempted suicide, self harm, PTSD, nightmares about traumatic events, hallucinations, intrusive thoughts, cutting, scars, suicide ideation, trivializing mental illness, death of a loved one, grief and loss depiction, murder, graphic deaths, graphic violence, gore, self mutilation, described blood, needles, physical injuries, escalating violence, implied underage drinking, swearing (if I missed any I am so sorry in advance.)

Summary: Gally is picked up by two men (Gul and Rob) on their way to the last city. Gally is racked with guilt over murdering Chuck, and has to work through this, all the while growing closer to Gul and Rob.

Hope you enjoy <3

When you’re half dead with a spear digging into your side, pain’s supposed to cloud your thoughts. Bullshit. Mine were clear. There was only one: I killed Chuck. If it were only words, it’d be bearable. They could be easily tucked away, slotted into a space to be dealt with later. But it wasn’t just the words. It was him. Chuck stepping in front of Thomas, into my gunshot. His expression right before my bullet buried into his chest. His face. God, he didn’t want to die. Even as he protected Thomas, even as he stared down my barrel. He wanted to live. Yet he saved Thomas. Thomas who ruined our Glade. Who disregarded what we had created. Thomas who I wanted to kill. Chuck. Chuck dead, less than a foot away from my dying. I couldn’t stand it. The others had left. Their running feet echoing against the walls of my tomb. Chuck’s tomb.

I grasped the spear jutting from my stomach; it clenched as I slowly started to pull at the shaft. For three blissful seconds all I felt was the trickle of blood down my abdomen. Then I doubled over. It was as if the spear had injected liquid fire into my body. My vision clouded and goosebumps rippled up my arms. Indistinct voices chattered in my ears. Sweat droplets like scales spread in circles around my wound. My hands were wet with my blood. Slowly I gripped the shaft harder and, barely able to see, I snapped it in half. My body screamed in protest and I slumped to the ground, curling around the bloodsoaked wood still in my stomach. My body was trembling with adrenaline, but I still wasn’t done. I painstakingly crawled to Chuck’s body.

His expression looked angelic in the flickering lights of the lab. The broken screens casting his face in blue shadows, his open eyes reflecting the yellow of the sparking wires. His shirt was soaked with blood. “Chuck,” my voice was ragged, like I’d swallowed glass. A tear traced down my cheek. I couldn’t leave him like this. I gently rolled up his shirt and started cleaning the wound. Using a piece of glass, I started making cuts around the hole, feeling for the bullet. The glass chinked against metal and I dug it out with my fingers. His body was still warm. I could almost imagine he was alive. I ripped a strip of cloth off my tunic and wrapped it around the wound. I pulled down his shirt and closed his eyes. Now he could be sleeping. My body was shaking from the effort but the pain felt numb and muted compared to the grief stuck in my throat. I killed him. The boy lying on the linoleum. His curls spread around his face like a halo. I turned away and vomited. It was dark red with blood. It splattered against my arms as I crouched in a fetal position.

I didn’t want to kill Chuck. Not the Greenie who used to play pranks on me in the Glade. I didn’t even want to kill Thomas. The voices wanted me too. But I pulled the trigger. My arms started to tremble. I couldn’t hold the weight of what I’d done. I couldn’t stand it. I kneeled under it and fell face first into my vomit. I heard footsteps before everything went black.

“He’s gotta be a Munie, he was part of WICKED’s Maze,”

“He had the tell-tale signs of the Flare,”

“But it cleared right up when we gave him the serum! And if he does get it… he’ll fit right in,”

“Dereset. He’ll probably wake up any minute now,”

“Hey. Who’s gonna tell him about the dead kid? Could’ve been his friend. He obviously tried to save him, binding the wound…”

“Look, if he doesn’t ask, we won’t tell him,”

The voices were uncomfortably quiet as they waited for me to wake. I cracked my eyes open and saw that I was laying on the ripped back seat of a pickup with the stuffing falling out. The two guys were sitting up front, one was failing to dodge potholes and the other had a book cracked open on his lap. The dead kid. That’s what they called Chuck. I wanted to punch both of them and drive right back. But then… I didn’t. I could still see his eyes. They gazed past me. Chuck had seen something else. Something beyond here. And I was scared.

All at once I could feel the cold of the gun in my hands again. And I was standing. My abdomen didn’t hurt. I felt it, and there was no wound. I was in a black void. But I wasn’t alone. Chuck was there. My hands grasped the gun and raised it level with Chuck’s chest. He looked at me with the eyes. Reflecting golden light. Looking past me. I was scared. My finger pulled the trigger before I could react. Chuck didn’t make a sound as it lodged in his chest. He didn’t fall. His expression didn’t change. The blood drip, dripped onto the sheen, obsidian floor.

Chuck! I screamed, but no sound. He didn’t react. Just stared at me with the golden, unseeing eyes. The blood was pooling at his feet. And then it was around my feet. Then to my waist. Then to my neck. I tried to swim to Chuck but I couldn’t move. I could only watch his golden eyes, his frozen expression slip beneath the red waves.

Chuck! I tried to scream again, but the rising blood poured into my open mouth and I couldn’t breathe… breathe… the eyes, the golden eyes were everywhere…

“CHUCK!” I sat up and a flare of pain brought me back to reality. I felt the scratchy burlap texture of the seat. The bump of the moving car. My own labored breathing. It was uncomfortably bright outside, I could barely distinguish that we were racing through the desert.

“Hey, son, it’s okay, you’re safe now,” I started and turned my head to see a bearded man crane his neck around the shotgun seat. His hand was out in what he obviously thought was a calming gesture. To me he looked like he was fending off a wild beast. My mouth twitched. This wasn’t gonna work. I swung my legs so I was sitting on the car seat normally and with some pain I straightened my back and crossed my arms.

“Did you bury him?” I said.

“Ah, you mean the dead child…” the bearded man began. Inwardly I sneered. I liked watching him squirm.

“Yeah. His name was Chuck. You didn’t bury him. Which means you have no respect for the dead. Which means I’m going nowhere with you,” I layed each sentence down like cards in a royal flush.

“Son, you can’t just—”

“No, Rob, if he wants to wander the Scorch like an idiot, let him,” the second man met my eyes in the rear view mirror. “But I have a feeling you aren’t an idiot,” I nodded and sat back in the seat. Rob was watching me, his lip slightly puckered. Eyes wide and gooey like a puppy’s. What a shank.

“Son, can you just lie back down? You’re already bleeding through your bandages,” I looked down to see a red spot forming on the clean, white gauze. I opened my mouth to retort but the second man cut me off.

“He will if he knows what’s good for him. Rob’s a medic. You’d do well to listen to him,” I glared at the man, but he just wiggled his eyebrows. Slinthead. I layed back down and let Rob unwrap my bandages. The wound looked worse. The puncture was starting to scab and there were rings of sickly yellow bruises around it. As Rob carefully cleaned the wound, it felt like a stinging, deadly poison shot into my body. The pain climbed to my neck, but I sure as hell didn’t show it. I clenched my teeth and gripped the side of the seat, my muscles bulging and veins popping all along my arm. I tried to breathe slow and even, but then Rob took out a needle.

“What the shuck are you doing with that?” I asked, gritting my teeth. Rob smirked.

“Shuck? What does that mean?”

“It means you aren’t gonna stick me with anything until I know what’s in it, Rob,”

“Okay, it’s okay, this is just for the pain, son,”

“Well slim it, shuckhead, ‘cause I’m not in pain,” Rob mouthed “shuckhead” in disbelief, then gestured for me to lift my hand off the edge of the seat. I did, and saw that I had ripped a gaping hole in my agony. He gave me a little smile.

“Close your eyes, and imagine the best place you could ever be, then you won’t even feel the shot,” I did as I was told. I imagined I was sitting around the fire at the Glade. I was watching the sun set over the walls with Ben and Alby on either side of me. In the distance Minho and Newt were running towards us, Newt without his limp. Frypan was at the fire cooking his stew. And by his side I imagined Chuck laughing at a joke Fry told. I turned around to reply to Frypan, but I saw Chuck. He wasn’t laughing. His eyes were wide and yellow. His mouth hung open in mid gasp. I looked at his stomach and it was dark with blood. I felt cold metal in my hand and I was back in the void. Chuck was staring through me. I tried to drop the gun but it was stuck to my hand. It felt as if the metal had frozen to my fingers. The cold, horrible pain crept up my hand and into my wrist, I tried to yell to Chuck, but no sound. Mocking laughter emitted from Chuck, but his mouth didn’t move, like an old talking doll. The pain was up my arm now, I could feel my nerves freeze and crack.

Chuck. I mouthed, Chuck, I’m so sorry. His expression didn’t change. The cold was to my chest. My neck. I could feel it creep up my cheeks, and my eyes started to flutter. Chuck…

“Hey, shuckhead. It’s done,” I opened my eyes to see Rob rewrapping the gauze. I gripped his arm.

“This is real, right?” Rob looked taken aback.

“Yes, of course, are you okay, son?” I ignored his question.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To revolution,” the driver answered.

“Don’t give me that klunk, where?” I started to sit up but Rob forced me down.

“We’re going to the last city. Our base is just outside the city walls. You’ll be safe there,” Rob said.

“I don’t care about that, who are you?” I directed my question to the driver. He laughed. A short, derisive laugh. “Well?”

“First: what’s your name? Then you can ask all the questions your pretty little heart wants,” I hesitated for a split second before spitting out:

“Gally. Now explain,”

“Calm down, this isn’t a hostage situation. If you can drop the tough and gruff for a second, baby, I’ll tell you,” I crossed my arms and clenched my teeth. The driver laughed again. “My name, Gally, is Gul. I’m from Afghanistan, well, what’s left of it anyway. It was hit badly by the Scorch. No one lives there now,” His voice died and his eyes wandered to the desert.

“Gul…” Rob got off his knees and slid back into the passenger’s seat. He touched Gul’s arm. Gul shrugged him off.

“I’m fine, Rob. For the love of Allah, tend to your patient.” But Rob didn’t move. Gul continued. “As for what the revolution is, well… Lawrence will tell it better than I.”

He cleared his throat and laughed weakly. I wanted to keep pushing, but from Rob’s expression I knew I needed to back off. So I just lamely growled:

“Yeah whatever, slinthead,” with less enthusiasm than a kindergarten bully. That got a smile out of Rob. Gul winked at me through the mirror. I cracked a smile but quickly turned to the window before either saw. I could see a faint skyline in the distance, stark against the sun baked Scorch.

“Hey, Gally, wake up,” I opened my eyes to see Rob standing outside the pickup, the open car door framing his body. He was tying up his long blond hair, a gun slung on his hip. An old, patched leather jacket partially hid the weapon. Rob wore a plain gray pullover under his open jacket, and bulky, wrinkled cargo pants. Loosely tied onto his feet were mud caked boots. “C’mon son, we need to ditch the car,” Rob said.

“Give the shuckhead a gun, Rob. He needs to defend himself,” Gul added, walking up to Rob. I exhaled sharply. Gul was beautiful. Blue eyes stark against his light brown skin, coiffed curls sprinkled with gray, stubble perfectly peppered on his cheeks. He wore a sleek, coffee brown trench coat, boots laced to his knees and a shotgun slung around his shoulder. A belt was strapped around his chest where a knife hung sheathed. He looked like a model, even his expression was cool, debonair. That is, until he laughed. “Gally! Look at him Rob, he looks starstruck!” Rob didn’t even look up from tying his shoes.

“Gul. You’re conventionally attractive. He’ll get used to it. You’re wearing the trench coat aren’t you?” He met my eyes. “A shameless show off this one is,” Rob nodded his head to a posing Gul. I rolled my eyes. Gul laughed and took out a small, dark object.

“You’ll need to defend yourself. You know how to use this?” Gul set the handgun in my palm.

“NO!” I dropped the gun like it was hot and curled into a ball. I could feel myself going back to the void. I didn’t want to. I tried to fend it off, I tried to hide from the eyes. I was rocking back and forth. It was getting dark, cold. I could see the golden eyes…

“GALLY!” My eyes flew open. I was on the dusty ground with Gul kneeling next to me. I don’t know how I got there. Did I fall out of the car? I giggled like a shank at that. “Rob, he just blacked out, what did I do?” Rob crouched next to Gul, he studied me.

“Gul, I want you to grab my medical bag,” Gul hesitated. “Now, Gul,”

“Fine. Bay pathar,” he spat and walked out of earshot.

“Okay. Gally, as your doctor, it would’ve been nice to know you get…like that at the sight of guns. But it doesn’t matter, not now anyway. Now, I’m asking, as your doctor, what happened in the Maze to cause… that?” He danced around what he had just seen, like he was afraid to call me… something.

“Nothing, Rob. I just… Nothing,” I growled. “Now let me up, I’m guessing this isn’t a good place to linger.” He wavered for a moment. Like he wanted to keep pushing me till I spilled. But he nodded and hoisted me to my feet. I almost immediately leaned on him for support. The world was hazy, red and fractured like a kaleidoscope. My stomach throbbed dully, in time with my heartbeat.

“Hey, just breathe. In and out slowly.” As I breathed, the world cleared and I saw that I was in a deserted alleyway. Fractals of glass and grime floated lazily in circles around me. In the distance, a beautiful, futuristic skyline.

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to the skyline.

“The last city. WICKED’s last defense against the Flare. Their last barrier from people like us,” Gul said, walking up behind me.

“Who—”

“He means the infected, Gally. We’ve all been around the Flare too long to be considered healthy,” Rob explained.

“Gally,” Gul said. “You need a weapon,” he handed me a knife. “You know how to use this, right?” I grabbed it from him and latched it to my belt.

“Yes,” I said, my voice filled with venom.

“It was just a question, follow my lead, slinthead,” he said playfully. Rob fell in behind me and readied his gun. I unsheathed my knife and followed Gul. “Once we get out of the back alleys there'll be loads of people. Don’t lose sight of me in the crowds!” With this he started down a sunless alley. I could hear the hubbub get louder as we marched deeper into the heart of the city. I could feel Rob’s tense, quick breaths on the back of my neck, like he was preparing for something to attack. The alleyways tightened around us, their concrete, graffitied walls and broken windows seemed to reach towards me. My tongue was coated with dust, it tasted sour.

“Rob…” I whispered, a sense of unease frosting on my neck.

“Not here. Quiet, son,” I clammed up and gripped my knife. We marched on, the high and fast sounds of rushing people crescendoing into an onslaught of noise. My heart felt like it was trying to rip out of my chest. I wanted to stop, but Rob pressed on behind me. My abdomen throbbed underneath the bandages, my hands slick with sweat. I could smell the sour stench of sickness as it overwhelmed my senses. I opened my mouth to yell, to stop us, but Gul turned a corner and I was suddenly in a sea of bodies. People pressed against me, their voices rushing past my ears like water. They blended together in a disharmony, so I could only catch snippets of their talk.

“WICKED says they're close to a cure…”

“God, I think my Mother has it,”

“I’m running out of time—”

“Crank fight at ten! Crank fight at ten!” This voice was louder and distinct from the rest. I craned my neck over the crowds to see a man in a velvety purple suit that at one time would’ve been striking, but now was ragged and dull. He was on top of a garishly painted car, obviously supposed to be eye-catching but only succeeded in nauseating me. He looked down and scanned the crowds. His eyes rested on me. He cracked a toothy grin and jumped from the car. The crowd surrounding the vehicle parted and the man sauntered towards me. Gul grabbed my arm and went to disappear into the crowds, but—

“Gul!” The carney yelled. “What are you doing with a fine fighter like this?” He motioned toward me like I was a purebred dog. “I’d pay a good price for a body like that,” Gul nonchalantly flicked his coat to reveal a shotgun. Rob stepped in front of me, his rifle knocking against his thigh.

“Move along, Akando,” Rob said. The carney lolled his neck, a half smile on his face.

“Like Lawrence is even going to let him join your, ah, revolution. I know a Munie when I see one. Lawrence has no space for privilege in his uprising, best if you left the…” he licked his lips. “Specimen with me.”

His greasy, straw hair hung in tendrils around his face. Gleaming through the strands were poison green eyes. I raised my knife, gripping it tightly to hide my trembling hand.

“No matter what these guys say, I’m not going anywhere with you. Back off.”

“That’s the exact spirit I need for my fights! But if you won’t come quietly…” Akando reached into his suit, I saw the gleam of a barrel…!

“NO!” I lunged at him and sent the gun spinning out of his hand, then, in one fluid motion, grabbed his lapel and thrust my knife into his eye. For a split second we held there, my feet just off the ground, his head snapped back. But my momentum sent us both crashing to the ground. I felt my knife drive deeper into his skull and chink against the ground. I’d stabbed straight through his skull. I quickly scrambled off the man, shaking from adrenaline, only to see blood leaking out of his eye. Like deadly tears. A crowd had gathered, they were staring at me with one emotion: fear. They were terrified of what I might do, who I might hurt. My breath was coming in short gasps. Blood flecked my face. My muscles were sheen with sweat. It was terrifying. I was. Gul clasped my shoulder.

“We need to go,” he said through gritted teeth. I suddenly felt weak, scared.

“Did—D-Did I…”

“He’s dead, Gally, dead in self defense.” Rob said, raising his voice at the last part. He handed me a gun, and I was too shucked to feel it, or care. Gul took my arm and led me through the crowd. I didn’t notice then, but as we walked, I felt no people pushing in around me. Or even the cacophony of noises. Turns out, everywhere we walked the crowds parted and fell deathly silent.

Once we stepped into the doorway of what Rob called “Headquarters,” I kneeled over and vomited. But with nothing in my stomach, all that came out was a red mixture of blood and acid. “Gally!” Rob crouched down and I leaned against him. Sweat glistened on my face in droplets. He felt my stomach and withdrew, his hand stained with red. “We need to get him to the med wing. He can’t face Lawrence like this,” Rob said to Gul, who was standing over us.

“He has too. Lawrence isn’t patient. He’s probably heard about our escapade by now, and right now, that’s the only thing that could get Gally in.” Rob cursed and felt my forehead.

“Fine. But bring him straight to me afterwards. Whether Lawrence lets him join or not.” Gul nodded and hoisted me to my feet. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

“You’re gonna have to walk on your own, Lawrence doesn’t like to see people weak,” Gul whispered. I nodded and focused all my energy on putting one foot in front of the other. It was like trying to move with two magnets stuck to my soles and the floor was stainless steel. I didn’t look up from my effort until I crashed into Gul. I was in what seemed like an empty airplane hangar. Cloth hung from the ceiling to partition off rooms, but it couldn’t distract from the open, exposed feeling. I tried to focus on details but everything was hazy and too bright. When I looked up all the lights had rainbows around them. That made me giggle. Gul turned to me.

“You have to go in alone, Lawrence wants you to speak for yourself,” He stared into my eyes. “Just in case… you don’t, uh—” I wrapped my arms around him before he could finish. For a second he faltered, surprised by my sudden affection. I was, too. He slowly, carefully enclosed me in a hug. We held there for only a moment, and I felt something I’ve forgotten to miss, something primordial about being held in an older man’s embrace. I felt a sob rise in my throat, but I pushed it down and pulled away. Gul awkwardly patted my shoulder and I stepped past him, down a short flight of stairs and into a whole different world.

Lawrence’s office wasn’t anything like I’d expected. There was no desk, no high backed chair, no purring cat. It was a greenhouse. Sunlight filtered through windows, showing swirls of mist in its light. Roses were everywhere. The smell was overwhelmingly sweet. Almost like it was covering up something. The man in question had his back to me. He was pruning a rose bush, it was so quiet I could hear the soft “pf” as the petals hit the ground. He gave no sign that he had noticed me enter. “Sir—”

“Quiet, boy. I’ll speak to you when I care to.” he continued snipping his plant. My eye twitched in annoyance. I turned the gun in my hand, unaware for a moment of what it could do. “Drop the gun,” Lawrence said. I faltered. “Drop. It.” I let it fall, realizing what I’d been holding. I pushed it out of my mind. I wasn’t going to black out in front of this slinthead. He continued pruning his roses. “So. You killed Akando.”

“Yes sir.”

“You’re immune.”

“Yes sir.”

“And you want to join my Crank army. Do you see the irony?”

“I would if I knew what a Crank was.”

“You would, you would…” Lawrence turned to me. “This is a Crank, boy.”

He was grotesque. There was no other way to describe the blueish-black veins crawling up his neck, eyes small and dilated like a frightened animal. And…

“Of course, most Cranks have their noses, but, this is what my army is made of, boy. And from the look on your face I don’t think you can handle it.” he started to turn away, but I grabbed his arm.

“Who’s your enemy?” Lawrence, disgusted, shook off my hand. “Who?” I repeated.

“WICKED,” he spat.

“Me, too. Can’t we be allies, Lawrence?” Lawrence sized me up. A small smile played on his lips. He stuck out his hand.

“Welcome to the Crank army.”

I woke up back in the Glade. I was home. It was strangely quiet as I walked through the familiar barracks, around the campfire. I didn’t even feel uneasy, I was so glad to be back. To rest my eyes on every familiar groove and detail, every nail pounded haphazardly into our shelters. Through the trees I saw everyone in front of The Wall. The one where every Greenie carved their name after their first day in the Glade. My pace quickened as I ran up to meet them. No one even glanced my way. All were concentrated on Alby. Slowly, deliberately, he raised the knife to cross out George’s name.

Wait! I tried to yell, but no sound. I couldn’t lose him now, again, when I was finally back… But the piercing, horrible scrape of knife on stone filled the quiet peace of the Glade anyway. I scanned the crowd: George looked frozen, his eyes closed as if he was asleep. But Alby wasn’t done. He crossed out Ben’s. Ben’s eyes closed and blue veins crawled up his neck, like when he was stung. Horror turned my stomach as I knew who was next. With the same careful precision, Alby crossed out his own name. Minho took the blade as Alby joined the rest of the Gladers, closing his eyes.

No! I screamed soundlessly. I tried to reach for the knife but my legs were stuck. Minho sent the knife scraping over “Chuck”. Chuck’s eyes closed and red bloomed over his chest in sadistic swirls. Tears filled my eyes, but then Minho raised his knife over the name “Gally”.

My heart stopped. Minho scraped and chinked at my name, until it was an unrecognizable mess of slashes. He dropped the knife. My hair stood on end. The Glade melted away, we were back in the void. Alby turned toward me, his eyes were golden. Then George, Ben, Chuck, Winston, Newt… they circled me, faster and faster until it was a blur of gold. Minho stepped into the circle. A spear clutched in his hand.

Minho! I tried to yell. Please! I tried to back away but the eyes were tightening around me, pushing me closer and closer to the spear. Please, Minho! I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry. My voice broke into inaudible sobs. Minho’s eyes didn’t lift from his weapon. It almost looked like he was sleepwalking. He raised the spear level with me and shoved it into my gut. The golden eyes exploded like a supernova, washing me in superheated light. I raised my head to see Minho, his eyes dark. He released the spear and walked away. He didn’t even look back.

“Minho…” I groaned, and woke in a hospital bed. My stomach felt like fire, but I could see everything clearly and didn’t feel feverish. An IV was pumping something into my bloodstream, I started to take it out but a hand rested on mine.

“That IV is important, shuckhead. It’s pumping all the minerals you lost from blood loss back into your body. Plus a little antibodies so you aren’t crippled with pain.” Rob said, sitting on the edge of my bed.

“How long was I out?”

“Seven years in catatonic sleep, Hell froze over, and WICKED found a cure!” Gul said, sauntering in with bagels and drinks.

“Hah. Rob?”

“18 hours, give or take. You slept the rest of the evening and into the night. It’s ten o’clock now,” he finished. Gul handed me a bagel with a healthy serving of cream cheese smeared on it.

“He can eat that, right, Doc?” Gul asked. Rob nodded.

“As long as he’s slow—” I inhaled the bagel, getting cream cheese all over my fingers. “—about it,” Rob finished, sighing and handing me a napkin. Gul laughed and passed me an iced drink. It was filled with a light brown substance.

“What is this?” I asked, turning the cup in my hand. Gul choked on his bagel.

“Allah save us… You don’t know what coffee is?” I shrugged.

“We never had it in the Glade… is it good?” Gul hid his face in his hands. He mumbled incoherently in Dari.

“It’s not for everyone, but go ahead and try it, I think you might like it.” Rob said, taking a sip of his own drink. I raised the cup to my lips and tasted it.

“WOW!” It was a liquid with millions of subtle threads pulling together to make one smooth flavor. I tasted bitter, burnt toast, citrus alongside caramel, dark chocolate and cream. Yet it worked to create something new and—

“Shuck! You slintheads kept this from me? Why?” I yelled, staring at both of them between gulps of the stuff. They were both shaking with laughter at my outburst.

“Hey, slow down, that’s got caffeine in it.” Rob said, holding up his hand.

“Caffeine? Is that why I feel like I can lift a truck!?”

“Oh, I can’t wait to introduce this kid to alcohol.” Gul wheezed.

“Gul… he’s underage.” Rob pushed Gul’s shoulder.

“Hey, can I get more?” I asked, showing them my empty cup.

“I’ll get more!” Gul said, cackling.

“Gul—” Rob started, but he was already gone. “You’re not drinking anymore coffee, young man.”

“You’re such a shank, Rob…”

“Yep. Now get some rest.”

“Now? Did I mention the “lift a truck bit”? Can’t I at least get out of this stupid bed?”

“Sorry. Doctor’s orders.” I grunted and sat back on the pillow. “Hey… While you were asleep, I, I didn’t mean to overhear… But, you kept repeating the same names over and over. That boy Chuck, but also Minho. Did he…” Rob trailed off and gestured to my wound.

“Yeah.” I said, clipped and closed off. Rob paused and waited for me to elaborate. I didn’t.

“Do you want to talk about—”

“No.”

“Son—”

“Leave.” I clenched my teeth, my voice dangerously close to fracturing.

“Gally… Why won’t you talk about it?” The question was so plain. So unassuming. My hands started trembling, I curled them into fists.

“Because…” I took a shuddering breath. “Because then it will be real.” I crossed my arms over my chest, like a shield against all the meaningless shit Rob could say: It's already real, Gally. I’m sorry you had to go through that. Just know I’m here for you. He’ll expect me to cry on his shoulder and spill my guts like a shank. But Rob surprised me.

“Yeah. I get that.” Then he left. The room was quiet. I could only hear the beeping of my heart monitor. As if reminding me that I was still alive. Chuck wasn’t. My horrible nightmares reminded me of that every time my eyes closed. But, if he was kept there, in my dreams, it almost didn’t feel real. Like his death, his murder, was just another nightmare. But it wasn’t. It was real. I pulled up my shirt and stared at the clean, white bandages. I didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve to heal, not while Chuck’s body rotted away on that linoleum floor. I took a fistful of the gauze and started viciously ripping it apart. My wound started to bleed, too burn and it felt so good. I ripped at the exposed flesh with my fingers, feeling my stomach shrink and shudder from the pain I was inflicting. The monitor heart screamed in harmony with my fast beating heart. My breath came in short, excited gasps. My fingers were dripping with my own blood.

“Ya Allah…” I turned to see Gul standing slack jawed, coffee splattered all over the floor. His face immediately melted into determined disappointment. He opened the medical cabinet and took out gauze. He started toward me.

“No! I don’t deserve it!” I yelled, twisting my body in the blankets, trying to get away.

“I don’t care. You’re getting blood all over the blankets and you made me drop my coffee.” He flipped me on my back and started wrapping my stomach in bandages. I fought him, but he held me down.

“Let me go, Gul!”

“No. I’m going to wrap you up and show you a better way to deal with your emotions, slinthead.” He said this with so much venom I shut up and complied. “Okay,” he said, tying a knot in the gauze. “Now follow me.”

I followed him out of the med wing and through a maze of corridors. He stopped at a door. “I’m going to show you this. But you gotta promise, as long as I’m around, no self harm. Okay?” He turned to me.

“Yeah. Okay.” I mumbled. He opened the door. Bright light streamed in from outside, temporarily blinding me. I stepped through the door and it was an alleyway. It went on for a while, but that wasn’t what I noticed. There were scratches all over the walls. Up and down, sideways, stark white against the gray concrete. They overlapped, cross hatching and digging deep into the wall. I could almost make out letters, but no words. It was intelligible gibberish, if gibberish screamed at the top of its lungs. If gibberish so clearly could tell me what this place was. This was a place for when grief and regret are too much. When you can’t stand it anymore. When you don’t want to feel the storm of emotions in your gut. When you can’t breathe from guilt. “Who…?”

“Me. All me.” He studied the walls, arms crossed over his chest.

“Why?”

“Afghanistan. I was studying in America when the Scorch hit. I remember watching the Afghan news underground. All the bodies, Gally, were burned black. You couldn’t tell who anyone was. That didn’t stop me from seeing my mother, my sister, in every shot. She was fifteen. My baby sister.” He stopped. He scuffed his boots against the cracked concrete.

“What was her name?”

“Amena. It means “safe”, that’s all Māder wanted. To keep her child safe.” He was silent for a moment, then handed me a knife. “Here. I'll get you for lunch.” Then he left. I slumped on the ground and curled into a ball. I didn’t have it in me to defile this monument with my own blood stained hand. Gul grieved blamelessly. I caused my grief. I let the knife clatter to the floor. This wouldn’t be my way to grieve. No, I needed to do something to earn my forgiveness. I needed to take down WICKED.

Four weeks. That’s how long it took to convince Lawrence to let me go on a mission. Two more to actually prepare for the shucked thing. I was going with Gul and Rob, my “babysitters”, as Lawrence coined them. Gul didn’t dispute it, the slinthead. I strapped a holster to my thigh and quickly slid a gun into it. My hallucinations haven’t let me hold a gun long enough to shoot. I blacked out every time I tried at the artillery range. I’ve gotten really good at throwing knives because of this. I tied a belt to my chest and slid three of them in their sheaths.

“Hey, are you okay?” Rob gripped my bicep. “You’ve got that look on your face.” I quickly tried to arrange my face in a more neutral position.

“He means you were glaring, Gally. Remember, our mission is to get in, disable the security system, and get out. No casualties.” Gul was crouching and tying up his excessively tall boots.

“Why do you wear those? They can’t have any practical use.” I looked down at my own durable work boots. “These actually make sense…”

“What? You don’t think these make me look sexy?” Gul struck a supermodel pose. Rob whacked the back of his neck. A shadow of a smile flicked on my face. Gul wiggled his eyebrows to make me laugh, but I quickly busied myself with tightening my laces. An awkward silence filled the room. Gul loudly cleared his throat and started packing his satchel with tools to infiltrate the security system.

“Gally, I need to rewrap your wound before we head out. May I?” Rob gestured for me to sit down. I obeyed and clutched the arms of my chair. Rob carefully unwrapped the bandages and started cleaning the wound. I tried to relax, Rob said it keeps the wound from bleeding. But then Rob swabbed it with alcohol. That sent a stabbing pain to my spine. I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out in pain. “Please try to relax, this is the only way you’ll be able to go on this mission, son.” I bit back a scathing remark and breathed in and out deeply. Rob slowly, carefully, started cleaning again. I thrust my chest out to keep from bending over my wound, I could feel my stomach clench and unclench in waves. I took quick gasps of air. It felt like slowly, Rob was setting my entire wound alight with poisonous fire. Tears squeezed out of shut eyes, though I tried to hold them back. “Son, try to rela—”

“Stop, Rob! Can’t you see the kid is in pain? Let him scream for Allah’s sake! STOP!” Gul shot out of his chair and snatched the rag from Rob. “You’re hurting him.” I slumped against the chair and felt tears stream from my eyes.

“Gul—” Rob began, flabbergasted. Gul crouched next to me and started lovingly wrapping my stomach with gauze.

“Kid’s gone through too much for you to tell him to keep his emotions bitten back, Rob. You’re a good doctor but…”

“But what, Gul? You put yourself on a higher pedestal as his guardian, don’t you? Or something more? His mentor perhaps, his fathe—” Gul whipped around.

“And what of it? I’m doing a lot better than you. I actually understand him, I’ve lost people! Unlike you, Rob you—”

“I’ve lost people! Everyone’s lost people! You just can’t get over it. You mope while the rest of us move on. Isn’t that a better lesson to teach him than, than scraping up a wall?” Gul stepped back. He looked betrayed.

“How long have you known?”

“Since the first time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Gul’s voice was wavering, close to cracking.

“It was your choice to tell me. It’s a vulnerable place.” Rob stopped. “I-I’ve gone there. Just a few times. I’m sorry. I—” But Gul already had him in an embrace. Rob held there, tears stark against his pale skin. After a moment he fiercely hugged Gul back.

“Barâdar, barâdar, my brother, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I…”

“Sh, don’t explain.”

“D-dostat daaram, b-barâdar.” Rob said, slowly sounding out the words as if he’d practiced. Gul started and looked at Rob. He smiled as a single tear slid down his cheek.

“Man ham dostat daaram.”

They held there. Hugging with tears streaming down, intense emotion on their faces. It was a picture of love. Beyond friends. They were brothers. It was a covenant love. A promise to always hold each other, lift each other, love each other. I released a shuddering breath. I wish I had that.

“Gul…” Rob gestured to me. And immediately they broke apart only to tag team hug me.

“Is the slinthead feeling lonely?” Gul crooned as he noogied me.

“Hush, Gul.” Rob knelt down and over carefully wrapped my bandages.

“I can take it, Rob. I’m not a sissy. Even though Gul—” Gul cackled at that.

“So I cried on this shank’s shoulder for nothing?” he said, pointing to Rob.

“Guess you did. I cried too, though, so we’re both, um, shuckheads.” Rob tied a knot in the gauze.

“I like barâdars better,” I said, “but…”

“God, Gally, I need to teach you and Rob proper pronunciation. You guys are killing me.”

“We’ll do it when we get home. First, let’s take down WICKED.” Rob cocked his shotgun. Gul grinned and grabbed the car keys. I rose to my feet and unsheathed my knife.

“Let's do this.”

“Oh, no way we can do this.” I was staring from an alley at the wall. It was huge, taller than any building on our side of the barrier. But that wasn’t the problem. A quarter mile of no man's land stretched between the cover of our rundown buildings, and the “safety” of the wall we needed to break into. Lawrence told us cameras were trained on this no man’s land 24/7, ready to shoot the monstrous rockets at any minute. The four rectangular launchers were more than one hundred feet in length. They had a five by five layout for its hangars, where inside each, a rocket lay primed to set off. That was the security system we needed to evade and then disable. I turned on my walkie talkie.

“There’s no way we can do this. We’ll get blasted right as we leave our positions, copy.”

“Aram shoo, you think we’re shanks? If you’d been listening to Lawrence instead of brooding, Gally—” Gul’s joke was cut off and I heard rustling and muted voices.

“What Gul means, son, is that Lawrence found a spot where there’s more cover, train your binoculars to the far left corner, over.” Rob’s voice cut off and I dropped my walkie talkie. I rustled through my knapsack and found the binoculars. I hesitated, and made two Ls with my hands. For a second they both looked like an L, then I realized and swooped the binoculars in the correct direction. When my binoculars focused I saw a toppled skyscraper, its roof close to the wall, but not close enough.

“There’s still at least six hundred feet of no cover, you guys won’t make it in time, over.”

“We’ll have too, over,” Rob said.

“Where are you now, over?”

“Right at the edge of the skyscraper, why? Uh, over.” Rob’s voice was edged with concern, like he could read my mind.

“Give the walkie talkie to Gul, over.”

“Gally—”

“Now, Rob.” Static. Then…

“What do you need, shuckhead?” Gul sounded tired, like he knew he wouldn’t like what I was about to say.

“I need you guys to start running right when I sign off, over.” Static. “Gul?” Static.

“Where will you be?” Gul’s voice was flat, expressionless.

“I’ll meet you guys in the security room.”

“Where. Will. You. Be?” I hesitated. “Gally?”

“Gul, please. I’ll meet you.”

“You slinthead! I can’t…!” He took a shuddering breath. “I can’t lose you, pesar.”

“Pesar?”

“It means ‘Gally is a shank’,” his voice got quiet, gravely. “Don’t you dare, don’t you even think of sacrificing yourself. Whatever you’ve done, it’s not worth dying for.”

“Gul—”

“No. No last words, I’ll see you again, over.”

I paused, savoring the deceptive safety of the static. “I-I’ll see you. Gul—”

“Zahr e maar, I love you, you slinthead. Over and out.” Static. I dropped the walkie talkie. My hands were shaking. But I didn’t have time to be paralyzed with fear. I steadied my hands and stepped out of the alley.

Instantly the guns were on me. Their barrels watched my body like they were a sentient creature. They clicked and scanned me. They reared their ugly, mechanical necks and emitted a screech like metal on metal. I went into overdrive. My jaw was slack, my chest convulsing in its need for air. I was watching the launchers with crazed, cornered prey eyes. Every time the guns twitched my body flinched, ready to jump out of the way. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. Oh God, I didn’t want to die. I still didn’t want to die. The guns dipped and pointed directly at my chest. I curled my fingers into fists and felt my nails cut into flesh. The launchers clicked loudly, the barrels glowing red with fire. My body froze. It felt like concrete was injected into my biceps, my legs. I was going to die. But I didn’t think about Chuck. Or Ben. Or Alby. I didn’t feel a crippling, terrified guilt for their deaths. For his death. I felt an overwhelming drive to live. Because of Gul, Rob. Because of a promise. I promised I’d see them again. Oh God, I wanted to live. My heart sped up again. My nerves buzzed and I bounced my legs to shake them awake. I unclenched my fists and could feel blood dripping down my palms. I stared down the launchers. I wouldn’t die. No one else would die.

The guns growled and puffed smoke. Yellow light made the barrels glow with golden light. Like eyes. His eyes. No. I wouldn’t go back. I couldn’t. I needed to live. The launchers deafened me with a whirring, static sound. Like an automated wind. The yellow glow mixed with a red fire, flickering inside the barrels. The sound grew louder and I tensed my body. The guns clicked and focused, pointed directly at my heart. I shut my eyes and waited to hear the guns fire.

Nothing. I strained for any sound. I held my breath. My muscles slowly relaxed and I tentatively opened my eyes. The guns hung down, the barrels dark. It was as if someone had turned them off. Like someone didn’t want me to die. Like someone knew who I was. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain on the back of my neck. It was as if I’d been branded. I reached to touch it and I could feel a raised symbol. I traced the lines and felt three overlapping diamonds. WICKED knew I was here. I hugged myself and kicked the sand. WICKED. Who caused everything. The first domino in a toppling that now is my life. WICKED. Who made my home. Made my family. WICKED. Who ruined my home. Ruined my family. God, I couldn’t face them. But I had too. To see my new family. I wouldn’t let them ruin that too. A clicking sound snapped me out of my thoughts. The gun rotated and pointed at me. “Oh shi—”

BOOM! The missile exploded right at my feet. My head snapped back and the blast propelled me backwards. A high, sharp sound whined in my ears. Smoke and dust curled around my body as I flew through the air. My head hurt. It hurt a lot. I felt gravity yank my body and I slammed face first into the ground. I spit out a mouthful of sand. My head hurt. I opened my eyes and everything was hazy. I coughed and choked on the smoke around me. My legs trembled as I tried to stand. Through the whining in my ears I heard a whistling sound. Adrenaline spiked my heart beat and I forced my legs to run.

BOOM! The ground shook under me as another missile detonated behind me. I forced myself to pick up the pace. I couldn’t see where I was running, the ground was so thick with smoke. I knew the door was a little less than half a mile away. If I could get there before—

BOOM! I fell forward. It was right at my heels. I scrambled to my feet and—

BOOM! God, I couldn’t make it. I ran faster. My feet barely touched the ground. I pumped my arms and pushed my body into high gear.

BOOM! The smoke was clearing now. I could see the door. It was too far away.

BOOM! My trembling legs twisted over each other, my knees slamming against the scorched ground. Pain laced through my body. I tried to stand but my weak legs couldn’t hold me. No. I needed to live. I forced my shaking legs to stand. I took a step and smashed my chin against the ground. My vision was tinged with red. I saw the door. Less than a hundred feet away. I started crawling. I clawed my hands over the ground, my fingernails clodding with dirt. My feet scuffed against the sun baked crust. The whistle of an oncoming missile screamed in my ears. I curled into a ball. Maybe heaven would look like the Glade.

BOOM! Burning heat washed over me. I felt my body skip over the ground, like a flat stone on water. I slowed to a stop and tried to breathe. I couldn’t see. My eyes were open but I could only see. bright yellow light. Big splotches throbbing in time. with my pounding head. Slowly my adrenaline died down. I could feel pain. It was everywhere. My skin felt raw. scraped. Burned, vulnerable. My abdomen throbbed. I touched it and my hand felt a wet, warm liquid. blood. My head hurt. Thoughts came slower than they used to. It was like my pain had a lag. Like my body couldn’t. process it. My leg hurt. Something was in it. i should be dead. Why was I alive? I strained to remember. why.

Gul. Rob. they’re important. Who are they? They are my.

Family. But there were others. i killed them. I should be.

dead.

why.

am.

alive?

Gul and Rob.

My vision started to clear. My brain hurt. It’s lag smoothed. I could think. A little better. Without so many… walls. I looked around. I uttered a cry of relief. I was at the door. I stood, with shaking, bleeding legs. My vision was peppered with little yellow spots, but I could see. I opened the door.

Cool, sterilized air washed over my tortured body. Bright blue fluorescent light illuminated a staircase. I started to waddle up the steps when—

“Erg. Whozzat?” I reached for my knife and slowly turned around. In the corner, half hidden by the open door, sat three men. They were tied up. Two of the three only had undershirts and leggings, while the other had full armor. The man’s helmet had a sticky note on it. Gripping my knife I harshly ripped the note off. The helmet was reflective. I couldn’t see the man’s face, but I did feel him flinch. Smirking, I studied the note.

Hey shuckhead,

Neither of us forgive you for almost dying. Rob is royally pissed at me for “letting you do such a thing” . Don’t tell Rob, but thanks. The armor is a gift from us. You won’t get through the multitudes of guards up here without it. Don’t be stupid. Put it on and don’t start any fights. You’re like a gorilla in a china shop or whatever the idiom is. Be careful. Don’t you dare die.

Dostat daaram pesar,

Gul

I exhaled sharply. Half a laugh, half something else. Something I’ve never felt, only imagined. Who was Gul to me? Who was Rob? I felt tears well up in my eyes. No. I wouldn’t go there, not today. I would see them again. I stared intently at the man and nonchalantly unsheathed my knife. WICKED wouldn’t get in the way. The man pressed his knees to his chest and shook his head. His chest was rapidly rising and lowering.

“Give me that armor.” He shook his head slightly. I gritted my teeth. My knife shone in the fluorescent light. “Okay.” I growled. I rushed up to him and tore off his helmet, my knife raised.

I gasped and staggered back. The helmet dropped from my hand. It made a dull echoing sound. He was just a kid. My age or less. His brown hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. His skin was pale, sickly. He looked terrified. Of me. My knife clattered to the floor. “I-I wasn’t gonna kill—”

“Please, please. I don’t want to die.” He whispered it, reverently. Like it was a prayer to a merciful god I didn’t know.

“Give. Me. The. Armor. I don’t want to hurt you. But I will. WICKED took everything from me. Do you know what you’re a part of?” My voice was laced with venom; yet it was so close to dissolving into blubbering. I inhaled sharply and tried to look mean, dangerous.

“Finding the cure. Saving the world. WICKED is good.” He said it like it was a mantra that’d been shoved down his throat. I gripped his shoulders. His head lolled down. I grasped his hair and slammed his head into the wall.

“Look at me! WICKED has killed people. WICKED killed Alby. Ben. George. Those were people. People I loved.” The boy shut his eyes. “LOOK AT ME! I killed a boy. His name was Chuck.” My voice grew raspy. “I killed him blaming another boy for WICKED’s sins. Don’t do what I did. WICKED needs to be destroyed. But I don’t want you to die with it.” I was desperate now. Flecks of spit splattered on his face. I must’ve looked crazed, inhuman. I released him and stepped back. His head stayed raised. He sat there for a moment. Slowly he opened his eyes.

“Beth. Did you know her?” I shook my head. He nodded. “WICKED took her. For their experiment. To find a cure. She’s probably dead.” He looked at me. “She was so little. Mom got the Flare. It was just me and her. Then WICKED took us. We separated. WICKED told me it was for the greater good. So no one would get what Mom had. I never saw Beth again.” He said all this quietly, distant. Like it was a sad fairy tale. Not what he experienced. I knelt down and started untying him.

“Go across this no man’s land. Ask for the name Lawrence. You’ll be pointed toward a building. Say you're with Rob, Gul and me, Gally.” He stood and started to take off the armor. “No. You’ll need that to get across. Ditch it once you get to the buildings.” I handed him his helmet and awkwardly stood there.

“This—” he started. I heard footsteps on the floor above us, and shots. I gripped his shoulders.

“Go.” Then I turned and ran up the stairs.

It became strangely silent as I climbed the steps. Only now did my body remember it was in a critical condition. My lungs burned, my body felt abused. I looked down and saw tiny burn holes all over my clothes. I looked like a boiled lobster. My skin was peeling, especially on my hands. My leg throbbed like crazy, but I didn’t look at it. I’d probably throw up at the mess of blood I could feel dripping down my thigh. I reached the end of the stairs and stumbled down the hallway. There were so many doors. Which—

Shots. Third door on the right. I took a step and slumped on the ground. My leg wouldn’t move. More shots. Voices. I leaned against the wall and excruciatingly got to my feet. I took a step. Then another.

“GUL!”

Rob. That was his voice. It was anguished. No. I forgot my pain and broke into a run. I kicked open the door.

No.

Later I would remember the details of the room. An overturned table raked with gunfire. Security technology with monitors, dark and littered with bullet holes. Flickering blue lights. WICKED guards with their guns pointed at Gul.

But the only thing I saw that day was the bullets ripping into his chest. Blood splattering on his cocky, mischievous expression. His eyes locked on me. A smile flickered across his lips. ‘Pesar’ means son, shuckhead. He mouthed. Then he fell backwards, his body obscured by the table. No. No no no.

“NO!” I shouldered my way through the WICKED guards. They didn’t even notice me until I spun around and grabbed my gun. I shot like a madman. Bullet after bullet lodged in the guards. Guard after guard slumped. Dead. The survivors tried to run, but I kept shooting. I wanted everyone dead. Body after body fell, until the dead blocked the exit. The rest were trapped in a cage of death, a prison created from their own comrades. I didn’t drop my gun until every guard shared the same fate. To die at my hand. The roaring in my ears stopped and I could hear quiet weeping. Oh God, Rob.

I jumped over the table and— Gul.

No.

I knelt next to Rob. Rob was clutching him. Sobbing over him. Over and over he mouthed the word: Why? Rob’s med kit lay forgotten by Gul’s head.

No.

Pesar means son.

No.

But what about father?

What does father mean?

Gul.

How could he? How could he die? The shucking slinthead!

I covered my face with my hand. Slinthead. Shuckhead. Shank. He used those. Because of me. For me. He used to. What I wouldn’t give for him to call me a slinthead again. I sat back. I didn’t want to see the body. I didn’t want Rob to confirm that he was dead. Oh, God. I didn’t want to see the other bodies. I dropped my gun like it was hot. God. I shakily stood up. I had to see them. Slowly I waded through the bodies. I took off their helmets. Men. Boys. Woman. Gently I removed the helmet of a smaller figure.

No.

No no no. I told him. Tears wet my cheeks. They stung my burned skin. It was the boy. I fell on my knees, guilt steeping my heart in lead. I didn’t even ask his name. Tenderly I lifted his body. He felt light, empty in my arms. I walked over to Rob.

“We need to bury them.” Rob looked up. He didn’t even blink at the body in my arms.

“Okay.” His voice was raspy. I turned away, terrified he’d try to talk about…

“Let’s go.” My voice sounded so neutral, so uncaring. I was scared Rob would hate me. Would think I didn’t care. But I did. I cared too much. I was too close to breaking. I couldn’t even look at Rob. I knew he was carrying Gul. I couldn’t see him limp in Rob’s arms.

“Okay.” Rob followed me through the sea of bodies. To his credit, he didn’t say anything. Or maybe I just couldn’t hear him over my thoughts.

We buried them. We went back to the base. Rob went to his room. I went to the alley. Gul wasn’t here to stop me. I took out my knife. In the Glade we would banish anyone who attempted to murder or actually killed another Glader to the Maze. They would never survive the night. I’ve broken that rule ten times over. I wouldn’t survive this night. I only felt bad for Rob. Maybe one day he’d forgive me. Or he wouldn’t. I deserved that much.

I leveled my knife to my wrist and cut into my skin. One for Chuck. It stung, but it wasn't enough. Not for everything I’ve done. I slit my other wrist. for the boy. Three more quick cuts down my arms. For the guards. Then I raised the knife to my neck. For Gul.

I inhaled air. It seemed so sweet when I was about to lose it. I wonder if Chuck thought about his last breaths when he stepped into my gunshot. When the boy joined his comrades. When Gul tried to single handedly fight off WICKED. I wouldn’t see them again. With all my sins I was destined for Hell. If it was even real. What did Gul believe about death? I never got to ask him. I pressed the blade against my neck. I closed my eyes.

Instantly I was back. Back in the void. My body didn’t burn. My abdomen didn’t ache. The cold metal of the gun felt soothing against my healed hands. I was pointing the gun at Chuck. I knew this wasn’t real. I knew he was already dead. But I still resisted. I tried to drop the gun, move it away from Chuck, but my arms were frozen. My finger slowly, deliberately pulled the trigger. The bullet shot out the barrel. Leisurely it spun in slow motion. Second by second drawing closer to Chuck. I tried to move, flinch, scream, anything.

Chuck didn’t react when the bullet lodged in his chest. His face was frozen in an angelic, loyal, quietly courageous expression. Still he had golden eyes.

CHUCK!

He fell backwards. But that wasn’t the end. Behind him the bullet continued. It lodged in the boy’s throat. His expression froze in a pleading, terrified state. His eyes reflected a golden light I couldn’t see. Guilt washed over me, if my body wasn’t stuck I’d have collapsed.

No.

The bullet continued through the guards. Guard after guard it shot through. Face after face frozen in shock, disbelief, fear, grief. Over and over I saw these last expressions, each ripping into me. Each weighing me with more guilt than I could handle. It went on for too long. How many have I killed? Too many. Oh God, too many. The bullet tore through the last guard. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I tried to hold them in. I didn’t want to cry. It felt so wrong to cry for people I consciously killed. But I did. Tears streamed down my face as I silently sobbed.

But the bullet wasn’t done. It hovered in front of one last person.

Gul.

He had that same stupid smirk on his face, his mouth open in calling me a shuckhead. Only his eyes ruined the picture. They were golden. No. His eyes are blue. No. He can’t die. Not here. I didn’t kill him. Yet the bullet didn’t stop. Did I kill him? Was it my fault? No. No no no no.

I had to wake up. Would I have dreams like this when I was dead? Was this Hell? Would I dream of the bullet tearing into me? No. No. The bullet pressed against Gul’s chest. I could hear the skin breaking apart, the blood starting to flow—

“Gally!” I was back. I felt the concrete against my back. My body in pain. My hand closed over a knife that wasn’t there. My eyes flew open and Rob was kneeling next to me. My knife in his hand. I sat up, deranged. I flung myself toward Rob.

“Rob,” I said, clutching his arm. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Give me the knife.” I was breathing heavily, drool dripping from my mouth. Rob studied the knife. And, without his expression changing, he threw it down the alley. “No!” I tried to rush past him for the knife but he held me back. I scratched and clawed but he stood firm. “Rob—”

“Don’t even try. Don’t even try to explain why I saw you convulsing on the floor with a knife to your throat. I know why. You feel guilty. For something you didn’t even cause. Stop struggling Gally!” Rob’s voice was so filled with emotion I stopped immediately. For a second me both sat there. His arms wrapped around my stomach; My body stretched over his kneeling legs. We both were sweating, breathing heavily. After a few more seconds Rob stirred.

“Oh God, you're bleeding.” Rob turned me over and considered my abdomen wound. “I’m going to rebandage this. Let’s get you to the med—”

“No.”

“Son—”

“No!” I slid off his legs and sat up. “You don’t get it. I feel guilty, but it was for something I caused.” I was practically shaking with emotion. “I killed Chuck, Rob. The boy who was lying next to me at the WICKED compound. I murdered him.”

Rob didn’t speak.

“I murdered all those guards, too.”

Rob started to argue but I stopped him.

“Do you know how young some of them were? Did you know I talked to one of them? Did you know he lost his sister? Did you know they’re all brainwashed to believe WICKED is good? Do you know how many I killed?”

Rob opened his mouth to speak, but then he closed it.

“I’m too dangerous, Rob. I destroy everything I touch. Maybe Gul would still be alive with you if you’d have left me to die.” I gestured to the knife. “That would’ve been the only good thing I’d done with my life.” I looked into his eyes. “Rob, please let me die.”

Rob stared at me open mouthed, silent tears streaked down his cheeks. “You poor, poor child. You’ve been lugging that since we met you? Oh son, I can’t lose you too.” He held out his arms, but I recoiled.

“Rob. I killed people.”

Rob dropped his arms. He traced a word on his leg. “You regret it. Guilt is overwhelming you with every day that passes, am I right?”

I nodded.

“Gally, can’t you forgive yourself? Wouldn’t it be better to grieve these people as friends rather than the mistakes you made? Can’t you respect them enough to do that?”

“Respect? I’m ready to kill myself to avenge them and you talk about respect?” My voice practically shrieked. Rob was silent for a moment.

“Gally, do you need to avenge them? Or is that just a coward’s way to get out of facing your mistakes and moving on?”

It was my turn to be silent. I wanted to feel offended, wanted to hurt him back. But instead I clutched my knees to my chest and whispered: “Yeah Rob, I’m scared. I’m scared to move on. What if I forget… them. What if I just become an asshole again. What then?”

Rob pulled me into a hug. I went limp in his arms. “You won’t. In my eyes you’ll always be a shuckhead.”

“Oh haha, laugh at the Glade slang. You’re so original.” I said into his sweater.

Rob laughed. “Gally, you’re already growing into a wise young man. I’m so proud of you.” Rob gripped me tightly, I wrapped my arms around him and let myself sob into his sweater.

“Rob, Rob I’m so, so sorry. Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

Rob cupped my tearstained face in his hand. His own eyes were wet with tears and reflecting the golden, setting sun. It was beautiful.

“I love you so much.” He embraced me again. That feeling washed over me. The feeling I felt in Gul’s arms. That love. That love I could only get from a dad.

Pesar means ‘son’.

One year later…

“Rob! Look!” I stumped into his room, running my hand over my newly shaved head. Rob glanced up from his book and made a face. He quickly tried to cover it up with a wavering smile, but I’d already seen it. “You hate it.” I pouted.

“No… it’s… Gally, you didn’t… you went against the flow of your hair!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I scratched the back of my neck.

“Gally, where’s the razor? I’m just going fix up the back, and… a… a couple of other spots…”

I crossed my arms. “Gul would’ve thought I looked sexy.” I joked.

“You will be, just let Barber Roberto fix it up, monsieur.” Rob said, gesturing for me to sit down in front of his chair.

“Fine.” I handed him the razor and sat down, crossing my legs. Rob pressed the blade to my head and carefully buzzed around my ears.

“You have that scout mission to do, right?” Rob asked, continuing to fix up my hair.

“Yeah, just a ride around the square, really. We wanna spread word about the revolution.”

“Have you talked to Lawrence recently?” Rob said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Not since…” I couldn’t say Gul’s funeral. My voice couldn’t force the words.

“Yeah.” Rob got quiet, maybe thinking about the service. I was.

“He kinda hates me now.” I picked at the carpet, pulling at the loose threads.

“You punched him.”

“Yeah.”

Rob was silent. I could only hear the dull buzz of the razor.

“I just… the way he implied that we’d lost Gul on a mission that was basically crafted so I would stop whining…” I stopped. “It’s already hard enough to forgive myself,” I whispered. Rob giggled. “What?” I asked, self conscious.

“No, it’s not you, it's just,” he snorted. “Gul’s sides would’ve been splitting open at you punching Lawrence in the middle of his funeral…! And throwing the cracker platter…” He burst into laughter. I giggled too.

“Gul would’ve loved it. And he’d have let me drink the wine, Rob.”

“I’m guilty of being a responsible adult, how novel.”

I snorted. “Hey, you almost done? I actually gotta get going…”

“Oh, yes, of course, turn toward me for a second, I just need to fix up your hairline.”

“What the f— heck is a hairline.” I corrected.

“Nice save, shank.” Rob said, rolling his eyes. I turned toward him and Rob smoothly shaved along my forehead. Little bits of hair dusted my cheeks. “There. You’re good.”

“I was before, what do you mean?” I quipped.

“Get out of here, slinthead.” Rob said, trying to keep a straight face. I jumped up and raced to the door. In the doorframe I turned around.

“I love you Rob.” Rob looked up from his book. His eyes were wide, gooey, with understanding.

“I’ll be here when you get back, Gally. You don’t need to say it just in case—” I shut the door. I did need to say it. Who knew when a goodbye might be the last thing you’d ever say to someone?

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