The Inventor

Chapter Thirty Seven; "Five year old"

     It wasn't a surprise to you when nothing happened in the maze, the few grievers you saw were unconcerned and scuttling off around corners. The walls had stopped moving, there was no change. It was clearly the creators telling everyone that there was nothing more to explore in the maze, no way out this way.

     In some ways it seemed like a cruel taunt, especially on Minho. You knew it struck a chord with him when you pointed out how the years spent running the maze were practically useless, it didn't show but it hit a nerve with you too.

     They we're still your runners, you risked your life to make them, people died for nothing. It was easier for you to accept this since you had thought on it for a while, came to the conclusion sooner but to Minho the helplessness was just hitting him.

     Not saying that made him any less of a crap head, it just made him grumpy the whole day. He can manage, certainly without your sympathy.

     The night was chilled, grievers scarce when they should have been flooding the catacombs. Nothing was said between you three from the minute you stepped into the maze, it was only when you made your way back to the glade early that morning that Minho spoke.

     "Are you going to say I told you so?" He said gruffly, "Gloat that you were right?"

     He wiped your sweaty palms on your pants, "I knew I was right, you know I'm right. I think the hit your ego took from that is gratification enough."

     "You two are acting like five year olds," Thomas muttered.

     Both of you shot back your own remark simultaneously.

     "No one was talking to you greenie, slim it."

     "You look like a forty year old, slim it."

     You both glanced at each other, having ended identically, you made a mocking face at him.

     "I'm better at sarcasm," He told you.

     "Boy, I taught you sarcasm, sit your ass down," You glared at him until he looked away uncomfortably, even then you kept staring just to make it awkward.

     Newt interrupted you, looking worn and tired but smiled at the sight of all of you. His expression was so hopeful, you hated that it was pointless.

     "Please tell me there is good news," He almost pleaded.

     "The maze is one big fat joke," Minho replied harshly. You were close to dislocating his shoulder again.

     "There's nothing out there, the walls stopped moving, no exits," You explained in a kinder voice.

     "Where are the others?" Thomas asked.

     Newts hope dwindled, washing from his face and you looked away so you didn't have to watch it disappear.

     "You're the first runner's back," His voice was lower down, turning blander.

     "And who's dead?" Minho said, very bluntly again. You wondered if that's how you sounded to people, if so, you felt sorry for whoever had to talk to you when you were in a bad mood.

     "Adam," Newt muttered, "they took Adam."

     The name didn't ring a bell, names rarely did with you though.

     "So Gally was right," You looked pointedly at Minho, "they're taking one a night, until there's none left."

     "Great observation, really aced that one," Minho commented.

     "Right, offer useful information or shut your mouth," You spat at him.

     "Okay, useful information, there's no exit, we're all doomed, everyone's going to die! There's no point in it and I'm getting tired of trying!" He threw his hands up in the air and stomped off to the hogsmeade in a huff. Newt looked after him mournfully, Thomas was fearful.

     "Did Minho just give up?" Thomas asked.

     "No, Minho's throwing a tantrum and needs a nap, Minho doesn't get to give up because nobody gets to be that happy here," You crossed your arms, "Give him time, he'll come around, we all have our moments. Let's see what our crew of message finders has got for us."

     Newt waved you to follow him, "Come on then, I know you just want to see Chuck."

     "Uh, I am very productive, I'm going to be of service," You lord through your teeth.

     "You're a shank, hurry up."