𝗧𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗣𝝠𝗧𝗛𝗪𝝠𝗬𝗦-𝗠𝝠𝗭𝗘 𝝝𝗙 𝗪𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗 ➳ TMR

Chapter 15- Explaining

A/N: Damn, a  while since I've last posted a new chapter and I just had a streak of 1-3 days updating but nvm.
Enjoy!

No answer to Alby's question.

"Okay," Alby said, "out with it. What happened?"

I wasn't in the mood of speaking, I still felt way too dizzy to do so.

Did I pass out? Must have... why did that Stick made me run so fast? But do you dream when you pass out, normally not.

"He's fine." What were they talking about? "I don't care what this Shank hears. Just talk!" Ah, about Thomas. I looked at him, his eyes were fixated on Minho. He was struggling to stand up, wincing with every move, his whole demeanour just screaming exhaustion.

I was scared how I looked.

Minho balanced himself against the wall, gave all of us a cold look. "We found a dead one."

"Huh?" Alby asked. "A dead what?"

That's when a grin appeared on Minho's face.

"A dead Griever."

Alby looked like someone had just told him he could grow Shades and fly out to the sky. "Ain't a good time for jokes."

"Look, I wouldn't believe me if I were you, either. But trust me, we did. Big fat nasty one."

"I... can confirm," my voice came through the air like the thinnest piece of paper, my body still processing everything that happened while I was out, everything that happened in my dream. "It was disgusting and definitely looked Clapped."

"You found a dead Griever." Alby repeated.

"Yes, Alby," Minho said his words laced with annoyance. "A couple of miles from here, out near the Cliff; in front of Section 7."

Alby looked out at the Maze, then back at me and Minho. "Well... why didn't you bring it back with you?"

"Do we look like we can carry an elephant?" My annoyance was peeking over now too.

"That looked like it weighed at least a ton," he threw his hands up excessively. "I'd never touch it even if you'd give me a free way-out ticket."

"What did it look like? Were the metal spikes in or out of its body? Did it move at all? Was its skin moist?" Alby bombarded us with questions.

"Spikes? I didn't see any spikes." I tried to remember the image of the Griever but all that came to me was some blurry pictures of Anne or the toilet or Mr. Anderson.

"There were spikes." Minho stated annoyed and turned back to Alby. "You gotta see it for yourself. It's... weird."

"Weird?" Alby asked bewildered.

"Dude, I'm exhausted, starving and sun-sick. Ask her, she had her Power Nap. But if you wanna haul it right now, we could probably make it there and back before the doors shut."

Well, I would say that was anything but a Power Nap, made me even more tired.

"Better wait till the wake-up tomorrow." Alby replied in acceptance.

"Smartest thing you ever said in a week." Minho righted himself from leaning on the wall, hit Alby harsh on the arm, then started walking towards the Homestead with a slight slack. He spoke over his shoulder as he shuffled away, his whole body shifting in pain. "I should go back out there, but screw it. I'm gonna go eat some of Frypan's nasty stew."

Crackhead.

I tried tensing my muscles, slowly, but it was working. Pain was shooting through my whole body making it lifting myself up impossible.