The First Runner

He looks kinda like you

The sun was just beginning to rise as Minho and I laced up our shoes, getting ready for another day in the Maze. The Glade was slowly coming to life around us—builders heading to their tasks, Slicers prepping for the day's work, and the Cooks already busy with breakfast. It was another day in our routine, another day of searching for a way out.

Today, though, there was something different in the air—a mix of anticipation and tension. We knew a Greenie was coming up today, the monthly arrival that brought a new face into our world. By now, we were used to it, the routine of welcoming the newbie, showing them the ropes, and then getting on with our day. But there was always that tiny spark of curiosity, wondering who it would be this time.

Once we were geared up we headed to the kitchens to grab our food for the day.

"Hey, Fry," I called as I pushed the door open to the kitchens. The familiar scent of sizzling bacon and fresh bread filled the air, making my stomach growl in anticipation.

Frypan looked up from the stove, a smirk on his face as he flipped a batch of pancakes. "Morning, Jess, Minho. You two ready to run your legs off again?"

"Always," Minho replied, leaning casually against the counter. "What's on the menu today?"

"Same as usual," Frypan said, nodding toward a couple of packed lunches on the table. "Breakfast burritos for now, and sandwiches for later. Hope you like 'em."

"Thanks, man," I said, grabbing one of the burritos and tossing the other to Minho. I unwrapped it, taking a big bite. It was hot and cheesy, with just the right amount of spice. Perfect fuel for a day in the Maze.

"Greenie's coming up today, right?" Frypan asked as he returned to his cooking.

"Yep," I replied between bites.

"Wonder what poor slinthead we're getting this time," Frypan mused, shaking his head. "Always feel a little bad for 'em. Getting tossed into this mess with no idea what's coming."

"Yeah, but they'll adjust," Minho said, taking a bite of his burrito. "We all did."

I nodded in agreement. It was never easy for the Greenies, but they eventually found their place, just like the rest of us. It was the way things worked here—sink or swim.

With our breakfast finished, we grabbed our packed lunches and made our way out of the kitchen, giving Frypan a quick wave as we left. The sun had risen slightly higher and I knew the doors would be opening soon.

We headed for the West Entrance, where the rest of the Runners were already gathered. They were stretching, checking their gear, and chatting quietly among themselves. It was our usual morning routine, a moment of calm before the intensity of the day began.

The doors groaned open, its deep rumble echoing through the Glade, and we took off running. The cool morning air rushed past us as we bolted into the Maze, our feet pounding against the stone floor in a familiar rhythm.

As soon as we crossed the threshold, Minho and I split up, veering off into our respective sections. The Maze was vast, and each Runner had their own area to cover, their own routes to memorize and map. Today was no different; we had our assignments, and we knew the drill.

I took the left path, quickly settling into a steady pace. The walls loomed high on either side, casting long shadows in the early light. My heart raced not just from the exertion but from the ever-present sense of urgency that came with running the Maze. Every minute counted. Every step could be the one that led us closer to the way out—or deeper into danger.

The sound of Minho's footsteps faded behind me as I pushed forward, focusing on the twists and turns that had become so familiar. My eyes scanned the walls, looking for any signs of change, any small detail that might help us unlock the Maze's secrets. But as usual, the stone corridors stretched endlessly ahead, offering nothing but more questions.

Despite the routine, there was always a tension in the air, a silent reminder that the Maze was unpredictable. The Grievers could be lurking around any corner, and the walls themselves could shift without warning. It kept me on edge, kept me sharp. There was no room for mistakes out here.

Hours passed as I navigated my section, marking the path and checking for any new shifts. The sun climbed higher, its rays barely penetrating the cold stone around me. I was in the zone, my mind and body moving as one, when my watch beeped, signaling the time to start heading back.

I turned on my heel, retracing my steps with practiced ease. My muscles burned from the exertion, but it was a good burn—a reminder that I was still moving, still fighting.

As I made my way back, I joined up with Minho, who was running in from his section. We fell into step with each other, our pace synchronized after years of working together in this endless stone labyrinth. We didn't need to talk about it—our legs carried us forward on instinct, and our minds were focused on making it back before the doors closed.

But even in the midst of the grind, Minho couldn't resist a little banter. "Think the Greenie's gonna last more than a week?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I'll give him a few days before he starts screaming for his mommy," I shot back, a half-smile tugging at my own lips.

Minho chuckled, the sound light and familiar, a brief break from the intensity of our run. "You're probably right. Poor shank has no idea what he's in for."

We pushed harder as the doors came into view, our legs burning with the effort. The grind of the stone doors beginning to open was our signal to pick up the pace, and we dashed through the entrance just as they creaked fully open, sealing the Maze behind us.

As we continued to jog back into the Glade, still coming down from the adrenaline rush, I spotted a familiar face up ahead—Chuck, talking animatedly with a kid I didn't recognize. The new Greenie. He looked disoriented, his eyes wide with confusion and fear as he tried to take in his surroundings.

"That him?" I asked, nodding toward the boy.

Minho glanced over and snorted. "Yep. Fresh meat."

As we passed by, I barely spared him a glance. I had seen this scene play out dozens of times, and the Greenie was just another part of the cycle. Minho, however, couldn't resist a quick jab.

"Kinda looks like you, Jess," he joked, his tone light.

I shot him a withering look, not in the mood for his teasing. "Please."

We didn't stop, didn't linger. There was no need. The others would handle the Greenie, get him settled, and then tomorrow, life would go on as usual. We had our routine, and nothing—not even a new face—was going to disrupt that.

Minho and I made our way to the Runners' Hut, the place where we stored our maps and gear. The sun was nearly gone now, the last of its light casting long shadows across the Glade. Inside, we dropped our packs and started going over the day's findings, our focus already shifting back to the Maze.

Tomorrow, we would do it all over again. And the day after that, and the day after that. Until we found a way out, or until the Maze finally beat us.