Murder In The Maze (Maze Runner Fanfiction)

Chapter 30: Focus

     "Alby told us what happened," Jeff states calmly, snatching me from my thoughts.  Moving in from the doorway, he enters the med-centre.  "What are you going to do?"

     A cold chill washes over me, wriggling down my spine.  Anxiety eats away at me, but something more than that persists - fear - intense, unsatiable fear gnaws at my bones.  Newt's life, or death, is on my shoulders.

     I shake my head, reverting my gaze to the patient, Thomas.  "I'll think of something," the words come out quickly, but uncertainty leaks through them.

     Jeff falls silent; the only sound in the room is Thomas' ragged breathing, interrupted by spontaneous coughs every minute or so.  Gnarled veins rise near the surface of his skin.  The blood drains from his face as it turns ashen pale.  Red sores creep up his neck, infected by puss.  The very sight causes a knot to form in my gut.

     In a whispered tone, Jeff begins to speak, "Maybe, if it doesn't work out, just...think of these three days as chance of getting to say goodbye, not everyone gets one these days."

     "It won't come to that," I reaffirm.

     "It might," Jeff pauses, "you need to--"

     My gaze immediately shifts to Jeff.  "It won't," I repeat harshly; my voice quietens as I continue, "I won't let it."

     Jeff sighs, his face dreary.  "All I'm saying is, maybe you should use the three days to talk or say goodbyes, just in case."

     My eyes fall to the floor in contemplation.  Another wave of fear overcomes my emotions, doubt beginning to seep back into my mind.  Immediately, I push it aside.

     "Did you...tell Alby about the serum?" he stops, taking a deep breath before continuing, "the one Teresa had when she came in the box."

     "No," I mutter, "I've been busy."

     "You should talk to him, see if maybe he'll let us use it on Thomas," Jeff's voice perks up eagerly, "It could help him."

     "Or it could kill him, that risk isn't worth it," I retort.

     Jeff's head slumps down as his shoulders curl inwards.  Grimacing, he starts to speak, "You haven't had to see it yet when they go crazed.  I've seen it," his voice trembles, wavering, "he's gone anyways."

     "Is he?" I question.

     Another break of silence ensues, neither of us wanting to speak.  My thoughts drift back to Newt, to my task.  Three days is too short for catching the killer.  For months, I've been trying with no success.  What changes now?

     As time leans on, Jeff's voice pierces through the silence once again, "If you need any help, I'm always around."

     "Help brainstorming or finding out who killed the Gladers?" I question.

     Jeff shrugs, his palms facing upwards. "Both, if you want."

     "I could use some help," I sigh exasperatedly, "for all we know, Nick was the killer, or someone else.  Either way, the trail has gone cold.  There's no new evidence, nothing to follow."

     "Yeah," Jeff responds, "maybe you should go over what you already know."

     "I know...the killer has runner's shoes, but keepers and runners can use them," I state, taking in a gulp of air.

     Jeff rubs his head slowly. "Anything else?"

     "He had access to the rope from the garden shed.  Most gladers could break in, but not everyone would know it was there, not apart from gardeners," I stop for a brief moment, processing my thoughts.

     "But how would he have the shoes for the runners?" Jeff inquires, "runners don't go in the shed, not many keepers make a habit of going around there either."

     Another idea begins to bloom in my head. "He could be a keeper, and a gardener," my eyes widen.  "Who's the keeper of the gardeners?"

     "Zart...but he couldn't do anything like that, not Zart," Jeff pleads, "why would he?"

     "The 'why' is another question for another time.  Right now I'm focusing on the 'who.'" I confirm, "I'll need to talk to Zart, or the people who work with him.  Keep an eye on Thomas while I'm gone."

     Jeff sighs, a frown pulling at his lips.  "Sure, just, go easy on him."

     Pushing out my chair, I start to head towards the door.  As I begin to leave, the door swings open, banging against the wall with a loud slam.  Teresa saunters in, her eyes darting around the room.  Suddenly, she trips on the floor, colliding with me.  She falls quickly, almost pushing me to the ground.

     "Sorry," she mutters, picking herself up again.  "I was just here to see Thomas."

     "Go ahead," I reply, "I was just leaving anyway."

     Leaving the building, I begin the journey to my destination.  The walk to the garden is short but tedious.  Hot rays of sunlight beam down over the open Glade, the heat bouncing off the walls.  Sweat drains from my pores, sticking my clothes to my skin.  As I breathe, the warm air catches to my throat.  A dull, throbbing pain lingers in my side underneath my scar, growing with each step I take.

     As I approach the garden, the place comes into focus.  Muddy carrots lie in a heap beside the rows of vegetables.  Dirt-covered rags are strewn across the ground, deserted by the farmers.  The stench of animal faeces attacks my senses, causing me to pinch my nose in disdain.

     I search the small group for Zart, searching their faces.  As I step closer, the squishy mud embraces my shoes, bulging around them.

     "Great," I mutter as I walk back.  I begin scraping my foot along the grass.  The mud starts to fall from my shoe, smearing on the ground beneath me.

     "You lookin' for something?" a hoarse voice calls out behind me.  An older glader comes closer, rubbing his hands together.

     Blonde hair rests atop his head, shaved at both sides.  Blotchy sunburn riddles his face and arms.  His glazed, brown eyes stare blankly at me, waiting for a response.  He cocks his head to the side, towards the garden. "You here to help?"

     "I'm looking for someone," I state, "Zart."