This Conspiracy

Chapter 24

Author stuff: Sorry for not posting this at my normal time today. It's been busy.

Puppy update! My pooch had the surgery to remove the cancerous toe last week (which I completely blanked on what day it would be). She stayed at the animal hospital overnight, and I was lonely af. She has this giant bandage on the paw that was changed earlier today. She's hobbling around a lot, but she pretty much has the same amount of energy, even with the medication they gave her to help keep her calm.

She's a little mad at me for not taking her on walks longer than from the house to the corner and back, but the bandage is too heavy. And the boot that they gave us to help protect the bandage doesn't make it easier.

She's doing good, though. We were told she'll get the stitches out next Monday when we have to take her back in. Thank you guys for sending good vibes her way. I really appreciate it.

Trigger warning for this chapter. So, the inevitable had to finally happen with Newt. I know all of you already know what it is. And while I want to apologise, it had to happen. I figured now was better than later.

Chapter 24

In Which There Are a Great Deal of Many Terrors

Before any of them knew it, another Greenie had come. He was older and a bit rough around the edges. Always growling at anyone who talked to him. He didn't listen much to anyone that first day and had to be knocked out before he ran into the Maze. It had Archie wondering if drastic measures were always taken in cases like that.

He woke up in time for the bonfire, shortly after the Doors had closed for the night, and he spent most of his time moping on a log near the fire. Flossy and Newt had tried to talk to him, but they were only able to wheedle out a few words from him – one being his name, Oscar.

He was promptly dubbed Oscar the Grouch, which had a nice ring to it. The Greenie didn't like it very much.

So, Archie ignored the Greenie and enjoyed his time. He talked with his fellow Gladers and wrestled Gally and Ben – both matches were close and he lost, but it was all good natured.

As things began to wind down for the night, he found himself sitting next to a somber Newt. Archie wasn't sure how much he'd had to drink, but by the state of his eyes and slur of his voice it had been quite a bit.

Archie tapped his leg with the toe of his boot.

"Hey," he said. Newt simply waved at him with the hand holding his mostly empty jar. "Do you need help getting back to your room or are you going to stay out here all night?"

"What's the point?" Newt said.

"Well, a neck cramp isn't that fun to wake up to. And you're already going to have a bit of a hangover so –"

"No, running the Maze. What's the point?"

"The point? I think you guys are running it to find a way out. At least, that's what everybody tells me. I could be wrong though. You guys could be playing the most intense game of tag."

"We've run it all. So many times. We have maps and maps and maps of the shucking thing. There is no way out."

Archie frowned at this information. Had it come from someone like Gally, he wouldn't have believed him. He'd call them a shuck-faced shank and go on his merry way. But Newt? Newt was a Runner. He was the Keeper of the Runners. He knew the Maze, knew how it worked and what to be afraid of. If Newt was despairing, well... he wasn't sure what to think.

He hoped it was just the special brew talking.

So, he did what he could. He took away the jar – dumping the rest of the contents in the grass, much to Newt's displeasure – and hauled the skinny shank to his feet. He practically had to carry him since no one around was going to be much help. Most had had too much to drink, were too out of it, or already in bed.