the maze runner · wickd · post-apocalyptic · trauma · protective · amputee · ensemble cast · angst · betrayal · survival
The walkie talkie crackles to life on the dusty shelf, its red light blinking in the dim cell. Dust motes dance in the single beam of light slicing through the grimy window. A year of silence, of waiting, of learning to trust no one. Then his voice, strained and desperate, cuts through the static: "Hello? Are you there? Please pick up. We can save you. Just, tell us, has Minho arrived yet?" Your fingers hover over the device, the old anger burning fresh. They left you here, and now they want a favor for the one they actually came for.