Murder In The Maze (Maze Runner Fanfiction)

Chapter 38: Run

     The sun's rays creep over the Glade, rising from the eastern wall.  A chilled breeze sweeps around us, and the crisp air pricks at my skin.  Birds sing merrily on the dawn, unaware of the horrors of the previous night.  The grass crunches beneath my feet from the bitter frost of the early morning.  My breath transforms into billowing puffs of smoke as it leaves my lungs, disappearing into the atmosphere.

     The gathering of Gladers trek towards the north gate with Thomas at the helm.  As we pass the Homestead, my eyes travel to the door and the Glader from last night.  The once-scarlet blood crystallizes into a brown stain over the Homestead.  The corpse's ashen skin contrasts with the sickly blood, dried and crusted around the wound.  His glazed eyes gaze into the distance.  Groans of nausea and complaints spread through the passing Gladers.

     My grip on my wooden stick tightens as I press on, pushing to the front of the group.  Thomas trudges forward with Newt beside him while Teresa tags behind them.  Breaking to the front of them, I proceed to speak, "How do you plan on getting us out of here?"

     Thomas unravels a torn piece of paper from his pocket, the same one from the box.  He points to the numbers.  "The numbers - seven, one, five, two, six, four, eight, and three - it's a code."

     "A code for what?"

     "Think about it; the Grievers have to go somewhere in the day to rest or refuel," Thomas states, almost talking over himself, "we just have to go there, using this code.  It's the only way out."

     Newt jars to a stop as the rest of the group follow suit.  Teresa peels her gaze from Thomas and to the maze door.  "We're here," she comments.

     "This is your great idea?" Winston's unmistakable whine pierces my ears.  "To go through the Maze?"

     "Beats getting eaten by Grievers," Newt scoffs.

     "Why are we listening to this guy?" he continues, "I say we stay here and take our chances."

     "Those chances are zero if they come back," I interject, "at least this way we have a shot of escaping - for good.  We could be free of this place."

     Hushed murmurings spread through the Gladers.  Some shake their heads in disarray, and others look to Newt or Winston in search of answers.

     "Bah, I'm staying here.  Who else will join me?"

     Winston stomps back to the Glade, a handful of the others joining him.  Teresa motions to the door.  "Leave them, we've got to go."

     Reluctantly, Thomas continues, leading the way through the corridors.  I cast my eyes over the Glade one final time.  First to the Homestead, the Deadheads, and lastly to the box.  A strange sensation of nostalgia taps at my brain.  At first, this place was like a prison; all I wanted was to leave and never return.  Now, a hint of dread gnaws at me and fear slips into my thoughts.  Should I leave the only place I've ever known?  What lies beyond these walls? Can I survive? 

     I push the thoughts away, cocking my head back to the door.  Digging my stick firmly into the ground, I step forward - into the Maze.  The overbearing walls darken the passage ahead, blinding my vision.  Thick vines cling to the walls.  Each step echos around me.

     I steer my way over to Newt.  "Hey, uh, do you know what they'll do with Alby?"

     Newt raises his brow.  "I'm not sure."  A glimpse of sadness flashes over his face.  "They're sure to keep him in the slammer for a bit, then figure it out."

     "There's no one in the slammer," a voice mentions from behind us.

     "What?"

     Maximus grumbles, "I checked this morning; the prison's empty.  I always check."

     Dread rises from the pit in my stomach.  My hand glides to the scar on my abdomen, almost in a trance.  A faint pulsing of pain flares under the wound.  My heart beats faster than before, pumping furiously.  "We have to go back!"

     "There's no time."  Newt places his hand on my shoulder.  "He won't get out of the Maze, not without the code.  Those Grievers'll be back soon."

     He motions further into the Maze.  "C'mon."

     The sharp shriek of a Griever rips through the air, bouncing off the walls - this one is closer than the last.

     "We better hurry," Teresa interjects, her eyes widening.  She wags her finger in front of a corridor to the right.  "It's this way."

     "How do you know?" Max questions from behind.

     "I know," she proclaims, already beginning to march through the passageway.

     The group shuffles forwards, intently following behind Teresa.   The noise of overlapping voices chattering soon fades from my mind.  Fear persists in the back of my thoughts, but I dare not focus on it.  I quicken my pace, hasting towards Thomas to distract myself.  "I wondered if I could ask you something..."

     He turns to face me, a fierce look of determination still etched on his face.  "What?"

     "Do you trust her?" I tilt my head towards Teresa.  "It's just--when I found you the other night, you said she was there when you 'woke up,' and that she spoke to you.  She told you that she came to save you and how you had to leave.  Maybe she knows more than she's telling us."

     Thomas' gaze reverts to Teresa, then back to me.  A deep crease appears on his forehead as his brow furrows.  "I don't remember anymore.  Some of my memories feel fractured.  I can't remember much since I woke up - just pieces.  I wasn't thinking right, maybe I was wrong about her."  His eyes shift back to Teresa; he grips his hand tightly.  "I want to trust her.  I feel like I know her, like we know each other from before." 

     As I walk, I trip into the person in front of me, almost toppling us both over. "Wha--" my voice trails off to a whisper. The throng stops, staring at what lies ahead.  A Griever stops at the end of the corridor, waiting; something lies caught on its claws - a body.