The First Runner

A Grand Escape... sort of...ok no quite

Jess POV

Thomas led the way, weaving through the corridors with a determination I could feel in my bones. The shouts of the boys behind us kept the pace steady, and I could sense Minho just to my left, matching me stride for stride as we brought up the rear. Newt was struggling, his limp slowing him down, but he was too damn stubborn to give up.

"Come on, Newt, you're doing great," I called, keeping my voice light. But my insides twisted. We couldn't afford to leave anyone behind.

I surged forward, picking up my pace to catch up with Thomas at the front. He glanced sideways at me, a flicker of relief crossing his face.

"Hey," he said between breaths, managing a small grin despite everything.

"Hey," I replied, grinning back as my chest tightened. The fact we were even here, running together—hell, the fact that we were still alive—it was insane.

"I can't believe we found each other," Thomas said, his voice a mix of disbelief and hope.

"Me neither," I chuckled, the sound almost foreign to my own ears.

We ran in silence for a few more seconds before reaching the final corner before the exit. Thomas held up his hand, signaling us to stop. The others caught up, and we all huddled together—Minho, Newt, Chuck, and Teresa.

"Careful," Thomas whispered, as we both leaned around the corner, and there it was—a hulking, monstrous Griever blocking our only way out. Its grotesque form twisted and pulsed, and a wave of revulsion rolled over me.

"Is it a Griever?" Chuck's whisper was barely audible, but I could hear the tremor in his voice.

"Yeah," Thomas replied, a calm certainty in his tone that gave me the strength to steady my own nerves.

"Shit," Chuck muttered, and the word hung heavy in the air.

"Here, take this." Thomas handed Chuck the key, a hard look in his eyes. "Stay behind us. Don't look back. Just focus on getting through, okay?"

"It's okay. Just stick with me," Teresa added, tying her hair back with fierce determination. I felt a surge of warmth toward her—she'd been here, seen things none of the rest of us could understand. She knew what was at stake.

"Once we're through, it'll activate, and the door will open," Thomas explained, giving Chuck a reassuring nod. He gave me a look, as if to say this was it. There was no turning back.

I scanned the faces of the boys around me. These idiots, my family, my brothers. If we were going down, we were going down together.

"We stay close. We stick together," I said, looking each one of them in the eye. "We get through this. We get out now... or we die trying."

"Ready?" I asked, my gaze landing on Chuck. My little brother in all the ways that mattered. He nodded, and I could see the fear in his eyes, but he tried to hide it. Brave kid.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he whispered, and I ruffled his hair, trying to push back the surge of protectiveness I felt for him. If anything happened to him, I would tear that Griever apart with my bare hands.

Minho gave me a sideways smirk, adrenaline lighting up his face. "Let's kick some Griever ass."

Thomas took a deep breath, his face set in steely resolve. "All right. Let's go!"

We sprinted around the corner, the Griever letting out a guttural screech as we charged forward. I felt the thrill of battle pump through me, my senses heightened as I dodged its spindly limbs. Ducking low, I slid under its disgusting body and drove my dagger into its side, gritting my teeth as I felt the blade sink into flesh and sinew.