She Was Their Cure (Rewritten) - A Maze Runner Fanfiction

Into the Blades

The Maze loomed ahead, its towering walls covered in vines, casting long shadows that danced eerily in the morning light. Thomas stood beside Minho, heart pounding as they prepared for another run into the unknown. The day before had been a blur of danger and chaos, but something about this morning felt different—more ominous.

"We head straight to Section 7 today," Minho said, his eyes focused ahead as they jogged deeper into the Maze. "Something's off. That section's never been open before."

Thomas matched his pace, the tension building with every step. "If it's never been open, why now?"

Minho didn't answer right away, his expression grim. "That's what worries me."

The walls began to shift around them as they entered the deeper sections of the Maze. Minho led the way, dodging the occasional vine or rubble as they pressed forward. Eventually, the pathways narrowed, and the towering walls felt like they were closing in.

As they reached the boundary of Section 7, Minho came to a sudden stop. "This... this isn't right."

Thomas looked around. The air was thicker here, heavier. "What is it?"

"This part of the Maze is called the Blades," Minho said, his voice low. "No one's ever come this far. It shouldn't even be open."

Thomas's gaze swept over the area. It felt colder, darker—unnatural. Just then, something on the ground caught his attention. A piece of bloodied fabric, torn and soaked. He bent down to pick it up, recognition flashing through his mind. "Ben's clothes."

Minho frowned, stepping closer to look. "Looks like he didn't get far after he ran. But there's no body."

Before they could dwell on it, a faint beeping sound broke the silence. Thomas's eyes shot toward Minho's holster where the small rod, the one they had pulled from the Griever, began to pulse with light. Without hesitation, Thomas snatched it.

"Hey, what the—" Minho started, but stopped when he saw the rod was reacting to something.

The beeping grew louder the more they moved in a particular direction. Thomas held it in front of him, leading them forward. "It's like it's showing us the way."

Minho nodded, keeping pace as they ventured deeper into the Blades. The walls began to change, growing more jagged, more threatening. Soon, they found themselves standing before a large dark tunnel. The air smelled musty, and the echoes of their footsteps seemed to stretch on forever.

"This wasn't here before," Minho said, his voice filled with confusion. "I've run this section before... nothing like this."

Thomas peered into the darkness. "What is this place?"

"I've never seen it," Minho admitted. "It's new."

As they cautiously entered the tunnel, the rod's beeping grew more frantic. The tunnel led them to a large rock pathway, suspended high above what appeared to be a bottomless pit on either side. The narrow path stretched forward, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side.

"We don't have a choice," Thomas said, stepping forward, his heart in his throat.

They moved carefully, their steps echoing against the stone. The deeper they ventured, the more oppressive the silence became. At the far end of the pathway, the rod's beeping reached a fever pitch. Without warning, a grinding noise echoed through the tunnel, and the wall at the far end lifted to reveal a hidden passage.

Minho exchanged a glance with Thomas. "Whatever's in there... we better be ready."

They stepped inside, their senses on high alert. The air felt cooler, and there was a faint dripping sound echoing from somewhere deeper in the passage. Thomas scanned the ground, his foot brushing against something slick.

"Griever goop," Minho said, crouching down to inspect the substance.

Before Thomas could respond, the walls around them suddenly lit up with red, laser-like scans shooting across the room. A loud buzzing noise followed as if something was about to engage.

"That can't be good," Thomas muttered.

Suddenly, the walls began to close in on them. Large metallic blades descended from above, swinging back and forth, ready to slice through anything in their path.

"Move!" Minho yelled, shoving Thomas forward.

They bolted, the blades slicing down just inches behind them. Thomas's lungs burned as they sprinted through the passage, dodging the deadly obstacles. The Maze was changing around them, the walls grinding and shifting, forcing them to navigate through the chaos.

"Faster!" Minho shouted, barely avoiding another swing of the blades.

They ran harder, muscles screaming for relief. The path ahead twisted and turned unpredictably, but they pushed forward, determined to make it out alive. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they stumbled out of Section 7, breathless and covered in sweat.

The Maze had sealed itself behind them, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake.

Back at the Glade, a crowd had gathered at the entrance, the boys anxiously waiting for their return. As soon as Minho and Thomas crawled out of the Maze, the questions began flying.

"What did you find?"

"Did you see anything?"

"Is it a way out?"

Thomas was still catching his breath when Gally stepped forward, his face tight with anger. "What the hell have you done?"

Thomas glared back at him. "At least I've done something."

Gally's fists clenched. "You've been here three days, greenie. You know nothing."

Thomas straightened up, his frustration boiling over. "And you've been here for three years, Gally. What have you done? What's your big contribution? Making flower crowns?"

The Gladers went silent, eyes darting between the two. Gally's face flushed with anger, and for a moment, it looked like he was about to explode.

"You have no right," Gally growled, stepping closer to Thomas. "You know nothing about what's out there."

Some of the boys, those who knew about Gally's flower crown and its significance, stepped back, fear in their eyes. Gally's temper was legendary, but Thomas stood his ground.

Before things could escalate further, Teresa appeared, cutting through the crowd. "Alby's awake."

The tension shifted immediately. Newt hurried toward the med-hut with Thomas and the others following close behind. Inside, they found Alby sitting up in his bed, his face pale and drenched in sweat, but his eyes were open.

"Alby?" Newt asked softly, approaching the bed. But Alby didn't respond, his gaze distant, like he was staring at something far away.

Thomas stepped closer. "Alby, we might've found something in the Maze. A way out."

But Alby's eyes flickered toward him, a haunting look in them. "We can't leave."

Thomas frowned. "Why not?"

Alby swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. "They won't let us."

"Who?" Thomas pressed. "What do you remember?"

Alby's eyes narrowed as he focused on Thomas. "I remember you. You were their favorite." His voice grew more frantic. "Why did you come here? Why—"

Before he could say more, a loud commotion outside interrupted them. The sound of boys yelling in panic filled the air.

Thomas, Teresa, and Newt rushed out of the med-hut to find the Gladers gathered in a panic. The reason for their fear became clear in an instant.

The doors to the Maze weren't closing.

For the first time since anyone could remember, the gates remained open, exposing the Glade to the dangers that lurked within.