The First Runner

A really stupid thing to do

Newt POV

"Alright, but why would Alby go into the Maze?" Thomas asked as I continued hacking at the stump. "I mean, he's not a Runner."

I stopped mid-swing, straightening up and resting the machete on my shoulder. "Things are different now. Alby went because Jess asked him to. They're retracing their footsteps to where they found the Griever," I sighed, running a hand through my hair. The thought of Jess being out there in the Maze made my chest tighten. I didn't want to admit it, but I was worried. "Look, are you going to help?" I gestured to the log with my machete, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"So, they're going back to where they found the dead Griever?" Thomas pressed.

I rolled my eyes slightly, gripping the handle tighter. "Yeah, that's what I just said. Alby and Minho know what they're doing. And if they don't, Jess does, alright? She knows better than any of us."

I went back to hacking at the stump, feeling the tension in my muscles as I swung. Thomas still stood there, quiet for a moment, before he asked again, "What does that mean?"

I sighed, straightening up again, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. This greenie was getting under my skin. "Alright, it's like you've heard, yeah? Every month, the Box sends up a new arrival. But someone had to be first, right? Someone had to spend a whole month in the Glade alone. That person was Jess."

I saw the flicker of realization in Thomas's eyes, but I wasn't done. I went back to hacking, my words tumbling out between swings. "It can't have been easy. But when all those boys started coming up, one after the other, she saw the truth. She learned that the most important thing is that we've got each other. We're in this together."

I kept hacking, feeling the tension leave my body with each strike. Still, in the back of my mind, I couldn't stop thinking about Jess. She hadn't been herself this morning, even after she'd eaten. The worry gnawed at me, no matter how much I tried to shake it.

Thomas finally stood up and grabbed a machete, joining me in hacking at the stump. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, satisfied with the small victory. "Yeah, there you go, Greenie," I muttered, focusing on the task at hand, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Jess.

Please let her be alright.

Thunder rumbled, and I froze mid-swing. It never rained here. Not once in the three years I'd been stuck in this shuck place. But now, dark clouds churned overhead, and the wind howled through the trees, shaking the branches like they were trying to break free. The first raindrops fell heavy and fast, and within moments, the sky opened up. The rain came down in sheets, forcing us to scramble for cover.

It was getting late—too late. I wouldn't admit it to anyone, but the knot in my stomach was tightening with each passing minute. I was starting to worry.

"They should be back by now," Thomas shouted over the roar of the storm, his voice filled with the same concern gnawing at me. His fingers drummed anxiously against the beam he was leaning on. "What happens if they don't make it?"

"They're gonna make it," I said, my voice steady even though my gut told me something was wrong. My eyes were fixed on the Maze doors, willing them to come running through at any second. The other Runners had already returned. Everyone was accounted for—except the three people that mattered most.

Thomas stepped closer, water dripping off his face, his expression serious. "And what if they don't?" he pressed, his voice quieter but more insistent.

I turned to face Thomas, meeting his gaze head-on. "They're going to make it," I repeated firmly, though it felt like I was trying to convince myself as much as him. The words hung heavy in the air. Gally and I exchanged a glance—despite our differences, we both knew the same truth: those three needed to come back. They had to.