❝The Maze Runner❞ || Thomas

Thomas

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      It had been a few months since Kai passed.

      Time in the Glade had a cruel way of continuing forward no matter what it took from you. The sun still rose over the towering stone walls each morning, the Keepers still shouted orders across the courtyard, and the Runners still disappeared into the Maze at dawn as though nothing had changed.

      Food was cooked, hammocks were strung, arguments broke out over stupid things, and laughter still found its way around the firepit some nights. Life carried on with an almost mocking normalcy, forcing everyone to keep moving whether they were ready to or not.

      But some things had changed.

      The scar hidden beneath my hairline had long since healed, buried beneath strands of dark hair. But I still felt it sometimes—an aching reminder of the night Kai's hands had wrapped around my throat and everything had gone black.

       Some nights I woke gasping, tangled in my hammock, my chest tight and my heart pounding so hard it felt ready to split straight through my ribs. Other nights, it was his voice that found me.

      You did this to us...

      I still didn't know what he meant. Maybe I never would.

      We buried him along with the other Gladers. Jeff had told me afterward that there wasn't anything I could've done. Newt had said much the same. Even Minho, in one of his rare moments of something almost resembling gentleness, had muttered that Kai had been gone long before the end.

      But guilt didn't care much about logic.

      By now, the Glade had settled back into routine. Or at least, the closest thing to routine a place like this could manage. I'd carved out my place among them in ways I never expected, helping wherever I was needed.

      Chuck had attached himself to me somewhere along the way and Minho had apparently decided tormenting me was his personal hobby.

       And somehow, despite everything, I had survived.

      That morning had started like any other.

      The air was already warm with the promise of another brutal day, sunlight spilling over the stone walls and casting long shadows across the packed dirt paths weaving through the Glade. Boys shouted back and forth across the courtyard as breakfast was passed around, someone arguing loudly over burnt food near the kitchen, while the familiar rhythm of daily chaos unfolded exactly as it always did.

      I had been near the gardens, brushing dirt from my hands after helping one of the Track-Hoes replant a row of herbs and vegetables.

       Suddenly, the alarm rang.

      Every movement stopped.

      Then the shouting started.

      "The Box!"

      I stood to my feet, wiping off the remaining dirt that clung to my hands. I jogged over casually, the other boys doing the same.

      Gally was at the front, waiting patiently as everyone began to talk amongst themselves.

      "Do you think we got another greenie?"

      "It would be the first time if we didn't."

      There were screams heard from down below in the Box as the grinding gears echoed. Everyone leaned forward, waiting for the platform to come into view as the concrete doors began to open. The Box came to an instant halt, now revealing movement. 

      It was another boy. 

     All I could see through the crowd of Gladers was dark hair, athletic build, and a chest rising rapidly with ragged breaths. I pushed past Newt, then Alby, my gaze never leaving the scene. His eyes frantically darted between the walls around him until he forced himself up onto his feet, the sun now beating down on his face. 

     My heart sank to the pit of my chest. I felt the blood rush to my legs. I held in a breath, shaken to my core at the sight before me. 

     Then his gaze snapped upward. 

     It was him. 

     It was Thomas. 

      Gally jumped down into the box, meeting the boy's eyes as his forearms rested against his knees. 

      "Day one, greenie. Rise and shine," Gally broke the silence. 

      I couldn't move.

      Thomas looked exactly how I had rememebred him. 

     Just then, Gally shoved him out of the Box.

     Thomas's chest met the ground with a grunt. He looked up, his eyes frantically meeting the boy's faces. He looked terrified. 

     The Gladers continued to shout and holler, making their sarcastic remarks before Thomas shoved himself up and off the ground as quickly as he could. 

     Before anyone could blink, Thomas was up and sprinting at full speed. 

     "We got a runner!" Logan shouted, a smile spread across his face. 

     I took a few steps away from the boys, watching Thomas's every move. He was fast, eager, and a better runner than half our team. That was until he took a fall, tripping over one of the headstones for one of the boys we had buried a long time ago.

        He slowly pushed himself off the ground, his eyes gawking at the sight before him. His line of sight was on one thing, and one thing only--the towering walls of the Maze. 

     Slowly, he began to lean to one side, stumbling slightly before his knees buckled beneath him. He fell to the ground, unconscious. 

      That's when I jolted my body forward, sprinting toward Thomas. 

      I fell to my knees at his side, moving his head slightly toward me to see. His eyes fluttered, coming in and out of consciousness.

      "Thomas?" I breathed out, his eyes fluttering open, as if he was fighting to stay awake. 

      "You know him?" Newt prompted, now standing only a few feet to my left. 

       I looked up, meeting his confused expression. My brows furrowed as I slowly shook my head. "I-I..." I paused, turning my head back toward our new greenie. "He's the only thing I can remember."