girl in the maze // {the maze runner, thomas}

chapter 10

I spit the words at him with such ferocity in my tone that I barely recognize my own voice.

To say I'm terrified would be an understatement. I've just sentenced myself, and Alby, to death, and just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, the Greenie comes waltzing in, throwing all caution to the wind.

"I—I don't know," he stutters, staring up at the massive, newly closed Door.

I realize I'm still holding Alby's limp form, so I gently let go and drag myself to a wall and lean against it. Alby's rapid breathing does not escape my notice, but I need to deal with my new issue (Thomas, the mother-klunking idiot) before deciding whether or not to give him the serum.

"You broke the Number One Rule, Shank," I mutter, but the despair I try to mask with an indifferent tone seeps through. "Why the hell would you do that?"

His ghastly pale face turns to me, and the concern riddled in his expression morphs into straight-up horror. "I wanted to help you! I just thought—"

He trails off, and runs a shaky hand through his hair.

"I couldn't just leave you in here," he whispers.

I feel my gaze soften slightly, and I have to look away because I'm worried that I'll start to cry if I stare any longer at his broken expression.

"And I couldn't leave him," I mutter, but more to myself than to Thomas. I turn back towards Alby, the reason we're in this whole mess in the first place. I slide my bag off of my shoulders. First, I take out a coil of a medical, self-adhesive wrap. Upon slight examination of my ankle, I deduce that it's just severely sprained, and not broken, so I wrap it as tightly as I can to stabilize it. I pull myself into a standing position and test a small amount of weight on it, gritting my teeth at the lingering pain. It's not a perfect fix, but it will have to do. As I limp the few steps over to Alby's unconscious form, I rummage around in the pack to find the next thing I'm looking for and slowly lift it out.

The serum.

Is it even worth administering to him? Even if we could last until the symptoms begin, there's no guarantee I could handle him without the proper equipment. The Changing is an unreliable process that renders the subject highly unstable.

I check his pulse again; although it remains weak, it's still steady. He'll last a little longer without the serum, and I'm not going to risk it until it's unavoidable. For now, I re-examine the wound on his arm. The stitches ripped as Minho and I carried him back, so I remove them with tweezers from my bag and disinfect the area again. I re-do the stitches with a bit more precision than the last time, considering now there's no rush.

We're stuck here. The only deadline I have now is our inevitable, brutal deaths.

I lean back on the ivy-covered walls for support once I'm done with Alby's arm, sliding down into a seated position, and rest my head against the rough surface, staring up at the darkening sky.

Tears pool in my eyes, but I don't let them fall. I don't want to admit defeat, even though it's obvious that none of us will make it through the night.

"What are you doing?" Thomas's panicked voice rips me from my thoughts. "Shouldn't we do something? Like, I dunno, climb the walls or...run away?"

"And where, exactly, would we be running to?" I lift my head to meet his eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, we're trapped here."

I sigh, exasperated. Not just at Thomas, but at everything. This can't be my life. I can't be someone sent to die in a shucking Maze.

"Shouldn't we at least try?" Thomas asks, his tone deflated.