The Deadliest Generation: The Maze Of Monsters

Inside The Maze

Authors note: Hey guys, I love you all as this book is really helping me right now it's really self indulgent to write and you guys are sticking w me even though it's taking me years to post a new chapter sometimes. But please leave more comments, I love comments :) Also... my dumbass got COVID yayyyy :(.

For several seconds, the world felt frozen in place. The thick silence followed the rumble of the Doors closing, and it seemed even darker in the Maze, as it was built like cities in hot countries- really tall walls that blocked out any natural light from the thin corridors between the walls of the Maze. Disbelief at what he'd done filled his mind. 

Thomas finally span around to the reason he was in that Maze in the first place. Minho was on his hands and knees, head down, exhausted, energy finally run out. He finally eased himself into a sitting position and stared at Thomas intently. He looked awful - clothes dirty and soaked in sweat. Alby who was moaning on the ground next to him, looked worse, pale and sickly, clothes ripped and arms covered in bruises and cuts. Thomas shuddered. Had Alby been attacked?

Minho finally spoke, his voice echoing round the empty corridor, seeming uncomfortably loud, "Greenie, if you thought that was a brave idea, comin' in here, listen up. You are the shuckiest shuck-faced shuck there ever was. You've literally just killed yourself. Great job."

Thomas felt his face heat up; in anger or embarrassment he couldn't tell. "I couldn't just leave you out there."

"Well at least now when I die I'll have the comforting company of an idiot screaming his lungs out next to me," Minho spat, rolling his eyes, "Whatever, dude, you broke the Number One rule."

"Your welcome, I was only trying to help." Thomas kind of felt like punching him. 

Minho laughed hollowly and bitterly. He knelt beside Alby. Thomas noticed how pale Alby looked, like he was on the verge of death. His breathing was shallow and quick, as if something was blocking his airways. 

"What- what happened?" Thomas asked.

"Don't wanna talk about it," Minho said, checking Alby's pulse and bent his head to Alby's chest to listen for his heartbeat. "Let's just say Grievers can play dead really well."

Thomas was surprised, "So he was bitten... or stung or whatever? Is he going through the Changing?" 

"You've got loads to learn, Greenie," Minho sighed.

Thomas wanted to scream out of frustration, but he could tell that Minho, having run around all day had practically no energy left, and he was probably tired and hungry. Thomas had no idea how the boy would last the night.

"Is he going to die?" Thomas asked Minho, worried.

"Since we haven't been back by sunset, probably. Could be dead in an hour. I dunno. Course we'll all be dead soon. All nice and dead." The words were put in such matter-of-fact tones that Thomas was even more fed up than usual. If he wasn't in this situation this guy's dry humor would be pretty funny. 

But the dire situation made Thomas's insides squirm, "We're going to die?"

"Yes you stupid shuck-face." Minho said wearily.

Thomas really could not stand this constant negativity.

"Oh come on, we must be able to do something. How many Grievers are there? How many will come at us d'you think?" He peered down the corridor that led deeper into the Maze, as if expecting the things to arrive, summoned by their names.

"I dunno." Minho said, and his face paled. "I can't feel a pulse."

Thomas's head snapped toward him. Minho was feeling Alby's wrist, looking terrified. Fear clutched Thomas's heart like nothing before, but then some sort of logic came over him. He pushed Minho away and leant his head over Alby's face, and after a beat, felt a shallow breath. Minho was panicking. He was hiding it but he was panicking, that's why the thought of attempting to hear breathing never came to him.