If There Is A Light

Chapter 8

It was hard to not be happy. She did not know her name or where she was, but everyone was so welcoming, friendly, and concerned about her well-being it was hard not to enjoy herself with what Alby had put together. She felt slightly embarrassed that she had not figured it out. Frypan had freaked out and thrown her out of his kitchen, but then again she was new here and did not know the Gladers' eating habits.

She sat on a log and stared at a large fire. It was hypnotizing to watch the flames consume the wood and a few hot embers fly off the pile and float dangerously close to everyone's bare feet. Well, not everyone was running about without shoes, but it seemed like a lot of them ditched the foot restraints after work.

For the first time since she had been there she felt comfortable. Her belly was full with good food (she knew which dish to stay away from even though Frypan told her he fixed it). The night air was cool, but the heat from the fire kept her warm. All around her was the laughter and talking.

She knew she was the 'guest of honor' (as Newt called it), but she was enjoying watching everyone as opposed to throwing herself into the social scene.

Newt plopped down beside her with a jar in his hand. The amber liquid sloshed with the sudden movements, "You're supposed to be the one having a good time."

She turned to give him a quick smile. She wanted to him to know that she was having a good time. She enjoyed and appreciated everything that was being done for her. They were all trying to welcome her and make her feel at home and they succeeded.

Newt nodded; he understood. He pushed the glass jar towards her, "Here have a swig. Put some hair on your chest." Newt chuckled when she raised her eyebrows. In retrospect that might not have been the best metaphor, but she took it cautiously. She scrunched her nose up a bit. It did not smell delicious or refreshing, but she trusted him enough to try it.

She immediately regretted that decision. She kept it down. It was difficult, but she managed. However she coughed quite a lot and her face twisted a lot more than she thought was possible. She shot a glare at Newt who thought the show was rather humorous. Once she gained her composure she handed back the jar and stared at him harshly. He knew what she was trying to ask. "Don't know what's in it. Gally's recipe. Suppose it's an acquired taste." Her glare did not falter, "Okay! I'm sorry. That mighta been a dirty trick."

She smiled at him again and shook her head in mock disappointment in his behavior, "So what is it that you might want to know about." Her fingers immediately pointed to the now closed entrance to the maze.

Newt nodded. "Not a great place to be. It's what keeps us in this place. The maze, it changes every night. I'm sure Alby told you, but you can't go in there. Under any circumstance, okay? You gotta promise me, okay?" Newt knew the dangers of the maze all too well. He had seen people lost in there... He and Minho knew the maze well by now and it did not pose much of a threat if you knew it, but she did not. She nodded at him, wordlessly promising what he wanted. She wanted to know why it was so dangerous, and of course he knew that. "Those doors close at the same time every day. You need to be fast and know where you're going to get out in time, and you don't want to not get out in time. If you don't... you're stuck in there all night. No one's been able to last a night in the bloody maze."

She was intrigued. It was not like a fairy tale she wanted to know the happy ending to, but she wanted to know what had claimed the lives of so many innocent people. One was too many in her book. She did not know everyone for years or even days, but they were good people and it made her sick to think of anything hurting any of them.

"We call thum grievas. Not really sure what they are, but there ain't no coming back from one of those stings."

She did not want to push him any farther on the subject. Newt did not seem like he liked to talk about it. Who would? She looked up at him... she did not know what expression to make to make him know she understood and did not need any further explanation (although she wanted to know about as much as she could). She was not sure if it was the liquid courage she had just consumed or the amount of grief she felt for all of the names that had been crossed out, but she rested her head on his shoulder for a few moments.

She could not explain the feeling. Maybe it was a light bulb that went off or an epiphany. She remembered. She remembered her name.