The Glader

Pep Talks

I glanced down at my watch. 7:28. It was time for everyone to be inside the homestead.

"Everyone hurry up and get done!" I yelled, "You have two minutes to get inside, then we're boarding her up!"

Slowly, the Gladers began to trickle in. Chuck, Alby, Jackson, Billy, Minho, Winston... The list went on and on. When the last few stragglers were just coming inside, I realized someone was missing. Where was Tommy?

Finally, I saw him running, coming from the direction of the Slammer and his new girlfriend. I rolled my eyes. Of course he was.

I shooed everyone inside, including Tommy, and shut the Homestead door, locking it, as if a simple metal latch would do anything against a Griever the size of a cow.

The snick of the key in the lock sounded dreadfully ominous.

***

Everyone was trying to force themselves to be casual, even though the moans of the Grievers had begun to drift through the air.

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Alby and I sat on the only bed inside one of the rooms across the hall from the infirmary. Across from us sat Thomas and Minho in chairs. The other boys in the room were in sleeping bags and pillows on the floor. Of course, none of them were sleeping.

I looked around the room. If all went wrong, everyone in here would die. If all went right... I didn't know what would happen then. Would we wait out yet more nights inside the homestead, waiting like rats to be found and killed?

I sighed. "This is the closest I've come so far to hanging it all up," I said, that wasn't strictly true, my fall had been closer, but the circumstances that led up to that seemed laughable compared to what we were going through now. "Shuck it all and kiss a Griever goodnight. Supplies cut, bloody grey skies, walls not closing. But we can't give up and we all know it," I said. My friends nodded. "The buggers who sent us here either want us dead or they're givin' us a spur. This or that, we gotta work our arses off till we're dead or not dead." I glanced at Alby. I was speaking mainly to him. He had seemed the worst off out of all of us, mentally. He stared at the floor, not meeting my eyes. "Alby?" I said, "Are you gonna pitch in?"

Alby jumped, looking surprised. "Huh?" he said, "Oh. Yeah. Good that. But you've never seen what happens at night. Just because Greenie the freaking superboy made it doesn't mean the rest of us can."

Tommy rolled his eyes.

"I'm with Thomas and Newt," Minho said, "We gotta quit boohooing and feeling sorry for ourselves," His expression grew eager. "Tomorrow morning, first thing, you guys can assign teams to study the maps full-time while the Runners go out. We'll pack our stuff shuck-full so we can stay out there a few days."

Alby spoke up, his voice shocked. "What?!? What do you mean, days?"

"I mean, days. With the open doors and and no sunset, there's no point in coming back here, anyway. Time to stay out there and see if anything opens up when the walls move. If they still move."

"No way," Alby said, "We have the Homestead to hide in- and if that ain't workin', the Map Room and the Slammer. We can't freaking ask people to go out there and die, Minho! Who'd volunteer for that?"

"Me," Minho stated, "And Thomas."

I looked at Tommy, who had been silent for the entire time. He nodded in agreement with the Keeper of the Runners.

They were right. "I will if I have to," I said, earning surprised looks from all three of them. I hated the Maze, but if they were going to do it, there was no way I could ask them to do anything I wouldn't do myself, "And I'm sure all the Runners'll do it."

"With your bum leg?" Alby asked, and I winced, looking down at the ground.

"Well, I don't feel good askin' Gladers to do something if I'm not bloody willing to do it myself," I said.

I looked down so he wouldn't see how much the comment had stung.