I was going to see the Grievers.
I was finally going to see the Grievers.
I swung my arms happily as I walked, earning an annoyed look from the boy beside me. "Stop that," he said, "or everyone will wonder where we're shucking going."
I rolled my eyes. Gally had stopped beating up his fellow Gladers, and most of the boys were tucked in their sleeping bags. "Everyone is in bed."
"You should be, too."
I grinned sidelong at him. "But Alby promised me that you would show me a Griever."
He pouted like a little kid and ignored me after that. It was a good thing he'd given up on trying to make excuses not to show me a Griever; it had taken me ten minutes to persuade him.
I was led to a section of the stone wall covered by a particularly thick curtain of ivy. Is the Griever going to pop out of it? What did a Griever look like, anyway? What did they mean by "stung"? Was it like... a bee, or something? My heart quickened as we drew closer to the wall.
"Don't bloody come crying to me when you have nightmares," Newt said, and pulled back the ivy.
It was a window. The glass was thick and yellow, with wavy lines across it. It looked about a century old. You probably couldn't see through it unless you pressed your face up against it.
I supposed I had to do exactly that.
I stepped up to the window and peered through it, into the Maze. All I could see was more stone and ivy. I frowned. "Where's the--"
I was interrupted by the sound. The same half-growl, half-moan I'd heard earlier. It sent a chill through me, although I'd already heard it before, and I wondered what was capable of making such a sound.
Then I saw it.
It looked like a giant slug with metal instruments sticking out of it. Blubbery, slimy skin pulsed every time it moved, the metal things retracting and coming back out. It was bigger than a cow. It was a horror deeper than my worst nightmares.
Then it started towards us, coming faster and faster. A shriek escaped from my throat as it launched itself forward.
It smacked into the window and slid to the ground, leaving a layer of slime on the glass. As if knowing it couldn't get through, it left, its roar echoing through the stone passageways. I could only stare at the thing, repulsed.
It wasn't until it was out of sight that I realized my hand was wrapped around Newt's wrist, so tightly I was surprised his bone hadn't broken. He hardly seemed to have noticed, but I let go immediately. Never before had I been so thankful for the dark; my face was probably the color of beets. You idiot, I scolded myself. It was just a Griever. Just a shucking Griever. And as Alby had said, I'd be safe as long as I stayed within the walls.
Newt grinned painfully at me. "Satisfied?"
I could only nod and stare at the red mark my hand had made on his wrist. You shucking idiot.
"Now you know why you shouldn't go into the bloody Maze." Without another word, he marched off to the Homestead, leaving me to follow. Or not.
I glanced at the window one more time before walking after him.
Never leave the Glade.
Indeed.
§ § §
The next morning, Newt wasn't leaning over my face again. I smiled to myself. Good. That meant more sleep for me. No whispers of WICKED is good had haunted my dreams, and I was feeling refreshed. But that didn't mean I wanted to get out of bed.
