The Glader

A Theory

"A code?" Minho burst out, "How's it a code?"

Thomas shook his head. "I don't know for sure- you're way more familiar with the Maps than I am. But I have a theory. That's why I was hoping you guys could remember some of them."

Minho glanced at me, raising his eyebrows. His question was clear. Should we tell Tommy about our secret assignment?

I nodded. We could trust Thomas.

"What?" Thomas asked, catching on, "You guys keep acting like you have a secret."

Minho rubbed his hands together, then said, "We hid the Maps, Thomas."

"Huh?" Tommy said intelligently.

"We hid the freaking maps in the weapons room, put dummies in their place. Because of Alby's warning. And because of the so-called Ending your girlfriend triggered."

Thomas's eyes lit up, and he looked at me, as if he needed confirmation that this was true. As if there was no possible way that the maps could have survived. I nodded, glad that one of us had hope.

"They're all safe and sound, every last one of those suckers," Minho said, "So if you have a theory, get talking."

"Take me to them," Tommy said, and I could see the glow of a plan lighting up his face.

Rolling his eyes all the way, Minho led us to the Weapon's room, where I had told him to hide the Maps yesterday.

"There's a hidden storage closet back here," Minho said for Tommy's benefit as he dragged out the map boxes, "Only a couple of us know about it. I put each trunk's worth in it's own box, eight boxes total. They're all in there.

"Which one is this?" Thomas asked, kneeling next to one box.

"Just open it and see," I said, "Each page is marked, remember?"

Tommy pulled open the box, revealing the section two maps. A pang of grief surprised me. That had been Stephan's section.

"Okay. The runners have always compared these day to day, looking to see if there was a pattern that would somehow help figure out a way to an exit," Thomas said, "You said you didn't really know what you were looking for, but you kept studying them anyway. Right?"

I nodded, and so did Minho. He was right.

"Well, what if all the wall movements had nothing to do with a map or a maze or anything like that? What if instead the pattern spelled words? Some kind of clue that'll help us escape."

Words? Was he serious? The only words I had seen in the Maze was "World in Catastrophe; Killzone Experiment Department" and "I hate the Maze." And the first one had been in the maze, not the maps, and the second one was only inside my head.

Minho agreed. "Dude, you have any idea how much we've studied these things? Don't you think we would've noticed if it were spelling out freaking words?"

Tommy persisted. "Maybe it's too hard to see with the naked eye, just comparing one map to the next. And maybe you weren't supposed to compare one day to the next, but look at it one day at a time?"

"Tommy," I said, letting out a harsh bark of laughter. There was no way there were words in the Maze patterns. It was just a mishmash of unsolvable, infuriating klunk, "I may not be the sharpest guy in the Glade, but it sounds like you're talkin' straight out your butt to me."

"Okay, okay," Thomas said, his brow creasing. I could see his wheels turning. He had an idea, alright, I just didn't know how realistic it was. After all, there was no way it could spell words, right?

Then Tommy said, "You've always had one Runner assigned to one section, right?"

"Right."

"And that Runner makes a Map every day, and then compares it to Maps from previous days, for that section. What if, instead, you were supposed to compare the eight sections to each other, every day? Each day being a seperate clue or code? Did you ever compare sections to other sections?"

I remembered when we had spread all of the maps out in order on the Map Room floor. That hadn't gone well. Ben had tripped on them and hit his head on the Map Room table. In the end, all we had to show for it was an annoyed Minho and a pained Ben.

Ben...

Minho nodded, obviously remembering the same thing. "Yeah, kind of. We tried to see if they made something when put together- of course we did that. We've tried everything."

Thomas leaned over, squinting at the maps. Then his eyes went wide. "Wax paper," he said.

"Huh? What the-" Minho said.

"Just trust me," Tommy replied, his eyes glowing, "We need wax paper and scissors. And ever black marker and pencil you can find."

I could see what he was suggesting. It was a great idea, actually. I just hoped it worked.

"Okay, you heard the man," I said, "Minho and Tommy, why don't you go track down the pencils? I think you'll be able to find a few that weren't destroyed in that shuck fire. I'll go get the bloody wax paper from Fry." 

Minho laughed. "That'll be the hardest task. Getting Frypan to part with his precious cooking supplies? Best of luck, buddy."