I wanted to run. I faced a griever once and didn't want to come face to face with it again, but if I got up and tried running now, everyone would have the same thought and everyone would die. I didn't want that.
Instead, I held Chuck tighter, wanting nothing than to be back to the time that we didn't have to worry about this. Where the worst thing was Wake up and working. Chuck started to whimper and I had to hold back my own sobs. Everyone stared at the door with wide eyes, silently praying that the grievers left now.
Like I said, they were unpredictable. The griever clicked forward and its spikes dug into the front wall with a horrible sound. I covered my ears as it moved up, shredding the wood and leaving jagged lines in its wake.
"What is it doing?" Chuck whispered.
"I don't know." I responded and jumped when there was a crash upstairs and screaming. I didn't see the griever come back down, but I heard as it rolled down the other side of the homestead. It clicked and whirred as it rolled away from us. The other griever seemed to follow it until it was completely silent. The only sound was everyone letting out a collective sigh. They were gone.
It had spread fast through the Homestead that a boy was taken with the Griever. Just one. And then they left. That was it. They said it was Brandon. I wasn't close with him, but he never caused me trouble so I felt some remorse and a little relief that it hadn't been me.
An hour after they left, Newt and Alby told everyone it was okay to sleep, but we would be awake again in a few hours to make the repairs that were necessary. After a night like that though, I wasn't sure if I was able to sleep again.
Chuck had no trouble. As soon as they said it was okay to, he was out, snoring like he hadn't slept in weeks. I was glad he was okay enough to sleep. I looked around and it seemed everyone else was okay as well. Except Thomas. He was close by. I crawled to him, careful not to step on anyone. I settled beside him and he just gave me a nod when he saw me.
"You okay Tommy?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Seen them before."
I scoffed. "Alright mister macho, you immune to fear now?"
He sighed. "That's not what I meant."
"I'm just messing with you." I pulled my legs against my chest and fiddled with my shoelaces. "Are you planning on sleeping?"
"I don't know. How about you?"
"I never really liked sleeping." It wasn't really true. But sometimes dreaming was more dangerous than reality. Especially when it showed me things I could never have again.
"Do you think they'll come again?" He asked in a small voice.
"I don't know, probably. I never really hold expectations for grievers. The only thing we were sure about them was they came out at night. The doors being closed always prevented them from coming into the glade. It's safer to assume the doors will stay open. Thus letting the grievers do whatever the hell they want."
"They only took one boy."
I snorted. "Thank you Captain Obvious. What about it?"
"There were a few of them from what it sounded like. Why would they just take one person?"
"You're guess is as good as mine. It's better not to question the creators."
"WICKED." He corrected me.
"Right. Who thought it would be a good idea to name themselves WICKED?"
"People who were WICKED."
I let out a small laugh. "True." We grew quiet and then a thought struck me. "People are gonna blame you and Teresa."
