The Glue

Promises

Three Weeks Later

"Promise me, Newt." Nick said, his face stormy. His green eyes were haunted. 

"I-" I trailed off, not knowing what to say. What if it was Minho next time? Or Alby?

Nick's face got darker, and he grabbed my shoulders. "Promise me!" He snapped. 

I glanced down at Stephan's body. 

he hadn't come out of the Maze yesterday.

When he hadn't shown up, two of his friends had gone out into the maze to search for him.

None of them had returned, and the doors had closed. 

Nobody had ever survived the night.

This morning we had found Stephan's body, but no sign of the others. 

"You hear me?" Nick said, "No going out after dark, even to help people! Promise!" 

I don't want to die. 

I nodded. 

We weren't going out at night, even to help people. That somehow seemed selfish, but it made sense. 

Nobody had ever survived the night. 

I don't want to die. 

"I promise." I said.

Nick nodded, satisfied. "Stephan was a good runner. I can't believe we lost him. And Justin and Alfred too. They were track-hoes, but..." He broke off, choking up.

"What happened to solving the maze in one month?" He asked, looking as sorrowful as someone possibly could be.

"I don't know." I said, "I don't bloody know." 

We had been running, searching, for six months now. We should have found something in that time. 

Anything.

There was certainly a pattern to the shifting, but it didn't mean anything. No exits or paths opened up.

Nothing.

All I had found was stretching walls and hopelessness.

Stephan had found death.

Maybe that was the only freedom this Maze could offer.

One Greenie later

Minho slammed his fist down on the maps.

"Shuck it." he growled, kicking the table.

Ben shook his head. He had gotten his own maze space right now, but even the extra help wasn't doing anything for us.

We were comparing maps.

"Come on, mate, if there weren't a bloody exit, none of us would be in this buggin' Maze. There's gonna be somethin,' don't worry." I said, not really meaning it. Months of running was starting to wear down on me.

Minho was my friend, and seeing him frustrated was always going to be disheartening for me.

"Seven Months." Minho growled. "Seven months!"

Ben shook his head. "I'm going back out there." He said, "If only for a little bit. Maybe something will open up..." He exited the maproom, a little too quickly.

"Seven months of good maps. When we've charted this bloody maze through and through. Thirty different patterns, changin' every night. No variation, no shuck exit. Why am I still doing this? Why am I keeper if I can't find an exit after all this time?" He let his head down in his hands and sighed. I'd never seen Minho like this. It was starting to scare me.