Murder In The Maze (Maze Runner Fanfiction)

Chapter 27: Judge & Jury

     "You can't do this!" I shout, protesting as the slammer door swings open. 

     Winston pauses as he turns to face Newt.  Without a word, he nods towards the door.

     Newt turns to face me; his expression is surprisingly calm.  "It's alright, Tammie.  It'll just be 'till they figure this all out, you'll see."

     Winston sighs, a short breath escaping from his lungs.  "Sorry about this, Newt."

     After a brief moment, Newt crawls through the hatch and into the slammer.  The rusted hinges creak as Winston closes over the door.  A sliver of moonlight creeps through the wooden bars, landing on the dust floor beneath.  Immediately, a cold chill sweeps over me.  The realization of Newt in the slammer indefinitely, or worse – banishment - dampens my spirits.  I won't let that happen, not after everyone we have lost.

     Winston taps on the bars.  "Just hang in there, bud."

     "Yeah," Newt mouths, his eyes reverting to the dirt floor.

     Winston swings the hatch shut, bolting the metal lock.  Within a few seconds, he heads back to the Homestead.

     "Newt I--" my voice jars to a halt.  "Don't worry, I'll get you out of here..."

     A light scoff sounds from behind the hatch.  Newt's shadowed figure steps closer to the entrance, his fingers lacing to the bars.  "And just how do ya plan on doing that?"

     "While everyone else was condemning you to the slammer, I was making good time."  Delving my hands into my pocket, I pull an iron circle of keys out.  I shake the keychain in front of him with a cheeky grin.  The keys clash together, rattling as I tear them back one by one.  "Upstairs, supply storage, ah...slammer."

     "Are you insane?" Newt snaps, his voice growing louder, "where did you get those?"

     "Someone owed me a favour," I state plainly without further explanation. 

     Newt shakes his head disdainfully.  "You've been here two months, no-one owes you any favours!" 

     "Well, I'm a Keeper and that gives me access to--"

     Newt swiftly interrupts, "You pinched it, didn't you?" 

     "I--" my voice dims to a whisper, "I borrowed it."

     "So you get me outta here, then what?" he questions, "There's no where to go."

     "But I can't leave you here!  If they think you killed those Gladers, you could be banished!" I sigh, combing my hands through my hair.  "After Thomas, Alby and Minho, I won't lose anyone else, I can't."

     Newt's gaze falls back to the floor, a flash of sadness flickering across his face.  Shrugging, he continues, "Ya won't have to.  The others, they'll figure this out.  You just gotta trust them as I do."

     "Fine," I mutter, "We'll do this your way, for now."

     "Hey guys!" a voice bellows from behind.  Chuck danders up beside me, his face flushed red.  Sweat clings to his forehead, sticking his hair to his skin.  Panting, he continues, "I thought you could use this."

     He tugs a creased napkin from a bundle in his hands.  Struggling to see in the darkness of night, I peer closer at the mysterious contents.

     Before I can speak, Newt whisks the words right out of my mouth, "Are those...cookies?"

     "I wish," the boy stops, sitting down before he continues, "They're Frypan's 'flapjacks'.  We both thought you could use them, given, you know, with you being in the slammer and that."

     "Flapjacks?" Newt questions, his voice trailing to a whisper.  The brown bars lie flat in Chuck's hand.  Black clumps riddle the stale oats, multiplying nearer the edge of the bar.  Dry flakes fall to the ground as they crumble apart.  "Thanks..."

     "How are you even awake at this time?" I question, "it must be near midnight!"

     Chuck nods.  "Early morning, it should be dawn soon.  Besides, I, erm, couldn't sleep anyways."

     Sleep, even the mention of it causes a weariness to fall over my eyes.  The sheer adrenaline had kept me running, unaware of the exhaustion clouding my mind.  Peeling back my eyelids, I force myself awake, intent to stay awake until morning.

     Chuck shoves a flapjack into my hands, gooey honey sticking to my fingers.  Hesitantly, I bring it to my mouth and take a small bite.

     "So..." Chuck begins, the food in his mouth resembling a washing machine as he speaks, "...do you think you'll ever get out of here?"

     Before Newt can respond, thunderous crashing booms across the Glade.  The harsh light of the sun peaks over the East Door, lighting the Maze.  The creak of the Maze doors sounds, signalling the start of a new day.

     Within minutes, a swarm of Gladers clamour around the East Door.

     "What are they waiting for?" Chuck asks.

     "Alby, Minho, Thomas..." Newt states from the slammer, sadness seeping into his words, "They always do it, every time someone gets lost in there, everyone gathers outside, hoping for the best," he pauses, looking towards the ground.  "I've seen it before, but once you're stuck out in the Maze, you aren't coming back, not ever."

     His eyes drift back to Chuck and me.  "Ya can check if you'd like, I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

     Chuck casts his gaze towards the gate, a glimmer of hope easing its way across his face.  Without a word, he begins an attempt at jogging to the gate.  Within the span of a few seconds, I follow behind.

     After a short but tedious journey, we arrive at the East Gate.  The doors are nearly open; what once was a small gap moments ago is now a long passageway, stretching for a good few meters.

     The winding corridors of stone block the sunlight from view; the outline of the dark green vines is barely visible.  A wave of silence washes over the chattering Gladers, each waiting in eager anticipation for the lingering hope that our friends are miraculously alive.

     "Look, over there!" a voice calls from the crowd, pointing down the path.

     A dim silhouette stumbles closer to the gate, then another.

     "They're alive!" Chuck cheers from beside me, followed by the rest of the group.

     Billy, one of the baggers, hushes the gathering, "Shh!  Wait, something's wrong."

     Only two shadows emerge from the darkness, the third lies still on the ground, unmoving.