In The Maze

Chapter seven (Y/N)

Luther is named after Martin Luther King, and Mage is named after Ferdinand Magellan.

Anybody enjoying this story? I've gotten radio silence on this and I'm actually enjoying writing it and am really proud of it. Guess I just hoped for more kudos/feedback. So if you like this story, please let me know!
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"Get a med-jack! Jeff! Clint!"

I instinctively tightened my grip on my hammer, ready and willing to use it as a makeshift weapon if the need arose. Gally and I rushed out of the newly-built tool shed towards the source of the yelling, hustling as fast as we could.

A small crowd had already formed near the entrance of the maze. Pushing through to the front of the crowd I saw that Newt and Alby were crouched beside Ben, who was kneeling on the ground panting heavily. George, another runner, was lying unconscious on the ground. There was a bizarre puncture wound on his right thigh that I had never seen before.

Clint and Jeff soon arrived with a stretcher. Together, they got George onto the stretcher and quickly retreated to the Med Hut. I didn't know George, but I felt for him. The injury looked painful and I wasn't sure if that would impede his ability to run in the future.

"What happened, Ben?" Alby's deep baritone cut through the heavy silence. Everyone's eyes fell to Ben who was able to catch his breath though he was clearly shaken.

"Minho, Luther, and Mage headed off to run their scheduled sections. George and I decided to run together until lunch then we were going to split up. But we only ran for an hour when a griever came outta nowhere."

The mere mention of the unearthly beasts that roamed the maze sent the boys into a frenzy. Hushed murmurs broke out among the gladers and some began staring at the entrance to the maze, clearly afraid that a griever would come around the corner at any moment. The only people who didn't appear frightened were Newt, Gally, Alby, and myself. Not that I wasn't scared; but my curiosity outweighed the tendrils of fear twisting my insides.

"Quiet you shanks!" Alby ordered. "Continue, Ben."

Ben took a deep breath. "We-we ran. We retraced our steps and tried to lose it, but it was too fast." His hands started to shake and his breathing started to pick up again. "I-I couldn't stop it. I-I cou-"

"Take a minute, all right," Newt ordered gently. He must have picked up on Ben's change in body language and was attempting to calm him. Always so perceptive and empathetic. "You got George and yourself back here in one piece. Don't start blamin' yourself for something you couldn't control." Newt directed his attention to our leader. "He's in shock, Alby. He can give us an explanation later after he's had time to recover."

Alby nodded. "Zart, take Ben to get something to eat and drink. We can talk to him later." The keeper of the track-hoes hurried to fulfill Alby's command. "The rest of y'all, get back to work!" Reluctantly, the gladers obeyed Alby's command and returned to their work. Gally, myself, and some of the other keepers hung back.

Once the other gladers were out of earshot, Newt said, "I don't think anyone should run the maze for a while. Not until we get more information from Ben and hopefully George."

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here, and say this is pretty unusual," I said to no one in particular but looked at Newt.

"Someone getting stung isn't unusual. But getting stung in the middle of the bloody day is."

"The grievers," Gally started slowly, "they can sting you. We don't know how or with what. But if they get ahold of you they can either kill you or-"

"Sting you," Alby practically growled. "No one goes in the maze. (Y/N), tell the other runners once they get back. We'll discuss more tonight." After that, we split and went back to work.