It was semi dark and really cold. Wires lined the ceiling and continued down into a hall that was darker than dark. I was glad we had flashlights.
"The rest?" Thomas spoke up. He looked beat and I wondered if he fought off all the grievers while I assumed Teresa put in the code.
"Dead." Newt answered. There were twenty-two people, including me. Half of what we started with. No one said anything, letting the words hang in the air.
"You know what?" Minho stood in front of everyone, standing taller than before. "Half of us died, but half of us shucking lived, and no one got stung-just like Thomas said. We have to get out of here."
"We have to go now." Newt agreed.
"I heard a door open down that way." Thomas pointed down the hall. Into the dark.
"What the shuck are we waiting for?" Minho marched forward without waiting for an answer. Newt ushered the other boys to follow him and soon it was him, Thomas, Teresa, Chuck and I.
"I'll go last." Thomas suggested.
We didn't argue and followed after the boys. We pulled out our lights, but it didn't matter. The darkness of the hallway seemed to swallow any light before it got too far. I wasn't sure how long we walked for-my watch broken from the griever battle-but it felt like maybe ten minutes. Everyone was silent, too tired to say anything.
A couple more minutes of silence passed and then there was a shriek. I stopped walking, Newt bumping into me. "What was that?" Another boy screamed and it seemed to fade off, as if they were falling...The boys in front murmured and I caught something about a slide. I repeated that for my friends in the back.
"It's like a game." Teresa wondered out loud.
I snorted. "For who?"
One by one the boys went down the slide, their screams and hollering disappearing with them. Finally it was my turn. I flashed my light at it, cringing. It was a stone slide with black goo, akin to the griever slick-maybe it was griever slick-lined every inch. And it shot straight down. "I can't believe we have to do this."
"Now or never, love." Newt's voice was soft, but he was looking over my shoulder and I knew he was nervous too. But I was so shocked at his use of 'love'. He hadn't really said it much and I realized since Nick's passing, he has been really stressed. Maybe after this he can relax. I smiled and climbed onto the edge and then threw hell to the wind and allowed myself to fall.
A scream escaped my throat and I felt like I was freefalling for a bit, but then the slide bent up a little and my back hit the stone harshly. I groaned, trying to slow down, but the goo was everywhere and now it covered my hands.
It smelt horrible in here, like oil and old machines, and it took everything in me to not vomit. I had a butterfly thought of a plastic tube with rushing water and wondered if the creators thought of that as they made this. It had to.
In seconds the smell of oil changed to rot and I gagged, swallowing back burning throwup. I felt like I was falling forever and begged whoever was in higher power to end this already. There was a huge curve that slowed me down a little. Someone screamed ahead, but it no longer held the echo it once did and I didn't even have time to wonder why when I fell out of the slide and on top of someone else. They groaned and I hissed as their elbow dug into my rib.
Newt landed on top of me and I only had seconds to move before Chuck came out, then Teresa, and Thomas. I stood, brushing goo off of me and looked around. There was a pile of boys at the bottom of the slide and a few stragglers that happened to get out of the way before they became pancakes.
I felt my stomach turn and then I was bending over to throw up, chunks of stew floating in the disgusting yellow film. I wiped my mouth, forgetting my hands were covered in goo. Thankfully a piece of my shirt was saved so I used it to clean my mouth.
Everyone started to gather, taking in their surroundings. We were in a huge underground chamber with wires and machinery. There were more egg-like pods against the wall on my left and across the room were huge glass doors that I couldn't see through.
"Look!" Someone shouted and I looked at where he pointed. Right in front of us were about forty windows that spanned the whole wall. Behind each glass men and women stood, watching us with tight eyes. They looked like ghosts, angry ghosts. But I knew they weren't. They were the ones responsible for the deaths of the boys in the maze. For everything that ever happened to anyone of us while we were up there.
They were the creators.
