WICKED's Agent

Chapter 7

The door shut behind Manon and all noise was cut off except the grunts coming from Minho. She took a breath, trying not to think of how stupid she was, stuck the machete through her belt and jogged toward him. Minho stared at her wide-eyed with shock, Alby still limp by his side.

"What the shuck, Greenie!" he half-yelled.

Manon clapped her hand over his mouth. "Are you trying to drag the Grievers to us?" she hissed and his eyes widened. She slowly lowered her hand from his mouth and he remained silent, his eyes still wide. Minho dropped Alby to the floor and he fell like a sack of potatoes, hitting the ground with a thud and stayed there, out cold.

"You shouldn't have come out here," he whispered, and his voice cracked. "We're all gonna die now."

He was starting to panic. Nothing good ever happened when someone panicked.

"What happened?" Manon demanded, making sure every single drop of authority was in the words. She's been a leader of the best soldiers in the world, she was one of the best soldiers. She could handle a little maze.

Minho glanced up and down the long corridor. "The Griever...It played dead or somethin'. We threw rocks at it and all but it didn't move, so Alby got close and it stung him."

Manon swore colorfully and looked around. "Well we have to―"

"No," Minho said and started to back away. "Sorry Greenie. You're on yer own." And with those ridiculous words that Manon hated with a passion, he began sprinting down the corridor. She resisted the urge to yell after him, knowing that that would just bring the Grievers to her, which she could really do without. So instead, Manon bent down and grabbed Alby's arm. She had to get him up high, maybe the Grievers wouldn't notice him if he was high enough.

She grunted as she pulled his arm over her shoulders and pulled him up. Her legs and back strained against the weight and she staggered back a bit, trying to ignore the burning throughout her body. Alby was heavily muscled, and with muscle came a whole lot of weight.

Manon dragged him to the wall that the door was coming out of and looked up. There were plenty of vines, which was good because she would break her back before she was able to push Alby up a metre off the ground. She would have to pull him.

Manon looked up and down the corridor, looking for signs of the white flesh of Grievers. She had no idea if they made noise, but a creature that big must have, so hopefully she'd get a warning before she saw them. 

Manon quickly braided her hair back, reminding herself that a braid was the best hairstyle for battle. It didn't bounce or whip around her head, and was easy to cut through if someone grabbed it.

She plunged into that icy place inside her, where she usually went in a battle, and the dark Maze seemed to sharpen into focus. Her mind cleared of any distractions and fog as her body stilled with that predatory stillness. Then she reached up and yanked on a vine. It held steady, so she grabbed it with both hands and raised herself off the ground. It swung slightly, but thankfully it didn't fall or even groan.

Manon tested another three vines, and then with one final look up and down the corridor, to her right, left and behind her, she bent down and began tying them around Alby's torso. She made it like a harness, criss-crossing his chest and going under his arms. He was completely still, sweat beading on his forehead and running down his neck. Under his arms was already soaked, and she wondered just how long someone could last without the Serum that they got in the Homestead.

Pushing those thoughts away, she looked up at the wall. It was hundreds of metres tall and no way she would be able to climb up it herself, nevermind drag a muscled teenage boy up behind her. She just had to hope that she would be able to get him as far up as possible before the Grievers came.