The labyrinth of the lost

Number 3 gestured for Number 29 to follow her out of the treehouse. As they descended the rope ladder, she spoke in a calm but steady tone, as if trying to ground him.

"Most of us are still confused," she began, glancing back at him briefly. "No one knows why we're here, who did this to us, or what's waiting behind those doors. People are trying to make sense of it, but… it's not easy."

They reached the ground, the sun casting long shadows across the clearing. As they began to walk, Number 3 pointed out the different clusters of people.

"Some of them train," she explained. "Some try to figure out how the labyrinth works. Others… well, they do nothing. Everyone reacts differently."

Before Number 29 could process her words, a figure stepped into their path. It was a man with a cocky grin, his arms crossed as he leaned casually against a stack of crates.

"Number 3," the man said smoothly, his tone dripping with false charm. "Still playing tour guide, huh?"

Number 3 stiffened but didn't stop walking. She didn't even look at him.

"Not in the mood, Number 5," she said curtly, her voice colder than before.

Number 5 chuckled, clearly enjoying her reaction—or lack thereof. "Come on, no need to be so icy. Just trying to be friendly."

"Save it," she shot back, brushing past him with Number 29 close behind.

Once they were a safe distance away, Number 3 leaned closer to Number 29, her voice low but firm. "Stay away from him. Number 5 isn't a good person. Trust me on this."

Number 29 nodded silently, noting the sharp edge in her tone.

As they continued through the clearing, they came upon a tall, imposing figure standing near a group of people. His stance was rigid, his arms crossed, and his sharp eyes scanned the area like a commander surveying his troops.

Number 11.

"Ah, the new arrival," Number 11 said, stepping forward. His deep, authoritative voice immediately commanded attention. "Number 29, right? Welcome to the team."

"Uh, thanks," Number 29 replied hesitantly.

Number 11's expression grew serious. "Let me make one thing clear: everyone here has a role. No exceptions. If you're here, you're expected to contribute. We train every day because we don't know what's waiting for us when that timer hits zero."

His gaze bore into Number 29, his presence overwhelming. "This isn't a vacation. We don't know what tomorrow will bring, but those who prepare for the unexpected will survive."

Number 3 crossed her arms, standing slightly behind Number 29. She didn't interrupt, but her disapproval was evident in her expression.

Number 29 nodded slowly, feeling the weight of Number 11's words. "I understand," he said quietly, though he wasn't entirely sure he did.

Number 11 continued, his voice firm and authoritative as he addressed Number 29. "We run on a strict routine here, and everyone is expected to follow it. We wake up at 7 a.m. sharp. No exceptions. First thing we do is run drills—literally. Running is the priority. If you think you'll be walking leisurely through that labyrinth, you're dead wrong. Stamina and speed are everything."

Number 29 shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Number 3. She remained silent, her expression unreadable, but her arms were still crossed in subtle defiance of Number 11's overbearing tone.

"After morning exercises," Number 11 continued, "we move on to our tasks. Everyone has a role to play here. If you're not pulling your weight, you're a liability, and liabilities don't last long in situations like this."

He began to pace slightly, gesturing as he spoke. "Number 3 is in charge of the planting and maintaining the crops. She's a botanist, so she knows what she's doing. Without her, we wouldn't have half the food we're managing to grow here."

Number 3 gave a small nod, acknowledging the statement but not offering anything further.

"Number 6 is responsible for the fish," Number 11 went on. "There's a small pond nearby, and he's figured out how to keep the fish breeding and alive. It's not much, but it's better than nothing."

He paused, turning to glance at a small cluster of people sitting near a makeshift fire. "And Number 20? She handles the food. She's resourceful—good at rationing and making sure nothing goes to waste. It's not a feast, but at least we're not starving."

Number 29 frowned slightly, taking in the information. "And what about me?" he asked hesitantly.

"You'll figure that out," Number 11 said, his gaze narrowing slightly. "Everyone's skills are different. What do you know how to do?"

Number 29 hesitated, his mind racing. "I'm… a linguist. I know languages and study their structures."

Number 11 raised an eyebrow, his skepticism evident. "A linguist, huh? Not exactly the most practical skill for a survival scenario, but… maybe it'll come in handy."

Number 3 interjected at last, her tone cutting. "Not everyone's skills need to be 'practical' in the way you think, Number 11. We don't know what we'll face in that maze, so anything could be useful."

Number 11 didn't argue, but his expression hardened. "Fine," he said gruffly. "But you'd better prove yourself. Everyone here has to. Start with the routine—7 a.m., running drills, then we'll see where you fit in."

He turned to leave but stopped after a few steps. Looking over his shoulder, he added, "And remember, this isn't a democracy. Survival requires discipline. Don't forget that."

As he walked away, Number 3 rolled her eyes, her disdain for him clear. "Don't let him get to you," she said to Number 29. "He's not wrong about preparation, but his way of going about it? Not for everyone."

Number 29 glanced between her and Number 11's retreating figure. "He seems… intense."

"He's self-appointed," she said dryly. "But most people go along with it because it's easier than arguing. Just stick with me, and you'll be fine."

Number 3 led Number 29 further into the clearing, weaving through small groups of people engaged in various tasks. Eventually, they approached a young girl sitting on a log near the fire. She was short, likely no older than 16 or 17, with a head full of dark, curly hair that seemed to frame her delicate features.

"Number 20," Number 3 called out softly as they approached. The girl looked up, her wide eyes glinting in the sunlight, and she managed a small, shy smile.

"Hey," she said in a voice that was sweet and quiet, almost hesitant.

Number 3 gestured toward Number 29. "This is the newest one. Number 29. Thought it'd be good for you two to meet."

Number 20 stood, brushing her hands on her tattered pants before extending one toward Number 29. "Hi," she said with a faint nervousness. "I'm Number 20. I've only been here a week, so… I guess we're both kind of new."

Number 29 shook her hand, offering a small nod. "Nice to meet you. How… how are you holding up?"

Number 20 hesitated, her smile fading slightly. "It's… hard," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the ground. "Trying to remember the past? It's like… there's this wall in my head. Nothing gets through. And… everyone here seems so special, you know? They all have these skills or things they know how to do, and I… I don't."

Her words hung in the air for a moment before Number 3 stepped closer, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "You're doing better than you think," Number 3 said firmly, her tone warm but steady. "Most of us are adults, but you've shown a kind of maturity that's beyond your age. That counts for a lot."

Number 20 looked up, her expression softening. "You really think so?"

Number 3 nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I know so."

Trying to lighten the mood, Number 3 quickly changed the subject. "Speaking of strengths… do you have anything warm to eat? We haven't had a proper meal yet today."

Number 20 perked up slightly at the question, as if grateful for a distraction. "Oh, um, yeah! I've got some bread and water. Not much, but it's something." She hurried over to a makeshift crate near the fire, rummaging through its contents.

A moment later, she returned, handing them two pieces of slightly stale bread and two small cups of water. "Sorry it's not much," she said apologetically. "We're still trying to figure out how to make things last."

Number 3 accepted the food with a nod of thanks. "It's perfect," she said, taking a bite. She nudged Number 29 to do the same.

Number 29 took the bread, his stomach growling as he ate. The water was lukewarm, the bread tough, but it was enough to stave off his hunger. He glanced at Number 20, who watched them anxiously.

"Thank you," he said earnestly. "This… means a lot."

Number 20 smiled, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "You're welcome. I'm just glad I could help."

Number 3 gave Number 29 a subtle look, as if to say, "See? She's stronger than she realizes." Then, she turned back to Number 20. "Hang in there, okay? We'll get through this. Together."

Number 20 nodded, clutching her hands in front of her as she sat back down on the log. Number 3 gestured for Number 29 to follow her again, and they continued their tour of the camp.

"She'll be fine," Number 3 murmured as they walked away. "She just needs time. We all do."