The Glue

Killzone Department

The sun woke me that morning, after a full night of bad dreams. I kept seeing Dalus's face, him cursing us.

Yesterday seemed like years ago. Was it really just three buggin' days since I had gotten here?

Already it felt like I had known the Gladers forever, and I was already sick of the Maze.

"You ready?" I asked Minho. He was sitting on the side of the hammock next to mine, staring off into space. I had no idea how long he'd been awake, but it seemed like getting up early was a trend in the Glade.

"Definitely." He flashed a grin, standing up. He followed me to the doors as they opened for the morning. Five o' clock, on the dot.

We started to run when Minho stopped cold. I skidded to a stop and turned around.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked holding up a mangled strip of leather.

I jerked back when I recognized it. "It's Dalus's buggin' collar! Do ya think he got nabbed here, this close to the bloody doors?"

"No. They brought it back." Minho closed his eyes. "The Grievers returned the collar."

I felt a chill unwind down my spine. "Minho, I think I'm gonna be sick, all over the lovin' Maze. That's bloody disturbin.'"

"I agree." Minho's face was rocky as he threw the collar back into the Glade.

"The Grievers sure know how to threaten us good. I'm right scared now."

"No kidding. Glad to hear I'm not the only one."

As we started running again, I saw his hand tighten on his knife belt.

Eight Days Later

It was one uneventful week after Dalus's banishment, but I still felt ice form in my chest whenever I thought of the Maze. It scared me to death now. I had yet to meet a Griever or even have a close call, but I was still terrified.

But every time I wanted to give up, all I had to do was look at Minho, Alby, or any of the other Gladers, and know that they were depending on me.

I couldn't give up, no matter how much I wanted to.

Minho had stopped, uncapping the water bottle. He took a few sips, then passed it to me.

"You remember the way we came?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes, "Of course, I've got buggin' short term memory loss, and I forgot the whole bloody thing after keepin' it straight in my head for a week now."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you." Minho said. "Nice to see you're gettin' confident, though. Pretty soon I won't have to hold your hand."

I gently punched him.

"You're a buggin' riot."

"I know." Minho took another swig of water, then slung the canteen back over his shoulder.

"Come on, Newt, we've got some more maze to run. See if you can forget that."

That's when I saw the sign.

It read WORLD IN CATASTROPHE: KILLZONE DEPARTMENT

"Kill-zone Department? Sounds fun." I said, pointing. Minho looked.

"Oh, yeah. Those. A barrel of laughs, don't you think? These don't mean nothin,' some sort of signature from the Creators."

"Must mean somethin,'" I said, nudging the sign. It was rusty and old, but it didn't budge to show a magical exit or anything.

"You're wasting your time. We should be lookin' for a little green sign that says 'Exit,' It'd work better. You might find a unicorn or two while at it."

"I'll keep an eye out," I said. We ran for about ten more minutes when Minho stopped so suddenly I ran into him.

"Bloody he-" I started, but the look on Minho's face stopped me cold.

A Griever? I thought, raising my head to look over his shoulder.

There it was, huge and disgusting, metal spikes sticking out all over it's body.

Minho backed away slowly.

I was painfully aware of the spear on my back, painfully aware that I might have to use it.

We slipped into another maze passage, walked as far as we dared, then broke into a sprint.

When we had gone far enough, Minho collapsed against the wall.

"Nasty bugger, eh, Minho?" I said, trying to make light of the situation. We were in a maze.

With monsters.

And one was right over there!

"Those things never cease to scare the daylights outa' me." He muttered, then snapped to attention.

Something like a slender silver lizard was perched on the ivy next to his head, it's red-lit eyes sharp as it watched us.

"Shuck it." he cursed. "That thing'll give away our location. Run!"

The rolling clicks of metal on stone slowly came into earshot.

"Griever." Minho explained needlessly. We took off, barely caring about which direction we were taking, as long as it was away from the thing.

No matter how fast we ran, it seemed like the Griever was getting closer. Finally, it came into view.

I shoved Minho behind me, ignoring his grunt of surprise.

I only knew one thing.

Protect my friend.

Frankly, it was the first time I had thought of Minho as my friend, but that didn't mean he wasn't. And I wasn't going to let some bloody Griever eat him.

I reached up to whip out the spear. It didn't look as cool as I thought it would, I managed to smack Minho, but it would work. I held it out in front of me as the Griever seemed to size us up.

I held the spear at the ready, hoping I wouldn't get killed, that Minho wouldn't get killed.