The Glader

Coded Conundrum

FLOAT, CATCH, BLEED, DEATH, STIFF, PUSH. FLOAT, CATCH, BLEED, DEATH, STIFF, PUSH.

I stared at the letters, scrawled on scrap after scrap of paper until they began to blur together. My head was pounding. 

What did it mean? It was a code alright, but... it was nonsense, wasn't it? What did those words have in common?

And, more importantly, how did they bloody help us escape? I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting from the code, but it definitely wasn't this.

FLOAT, CATCH, BLEED, DEATH, STIFF, PUSH.

"Newt?" Teresa's voice broke into my thoughts. I couldn't help but jump. She watched me, unblinking, with her clear blue eyes. I could detect worry, and maybe even pity inside their depths. I shook it off. I didn't need anyone's sympathy.

"What?" It was easy to keep my tone neutral. Sleep deprivation had done that for me. 

"It's Thomas and Minho. They're back!" the girl said.

"They're back early?" I said, a grin spreading over my face. Minho had made it seem like they'd be out for three or four days at least. If they'd only stayed out for day and a half, they must have found something!

I ran out into the Glade. "You're the first to come back," I said, "What happened? Tell me you've got good news."

Minho's eyes, cold and tired, devoid of hope, were most of the answer I needed. "Nothing," he sighed, "The Maze is a big freaking joke."

I looked at Tommy, hoping he'd tell me what they'd found that had gotten Minho so whacked. "What's he talking about?"

"He's just discouraged. We didn't find anything different. The walls haven't moved, no exits, nothing. Did the Grievers come last night?"

I paused, remembering the horrible screams, the clicks. "Yeah. They took Adam."

I opened my mouth to tell Minho more about the code, when he threw his backpack at the ground, hard enough for me to hear the crack of its contents breaking. His voice was broken as he yelled towards the sky, "I'm sick of this! I'm sick of it! It's over! It's all over!" his face was a flaming red, his eyebrows drawn to a tight line. "There's no exit, never was, never will be. We're all shucked."

Then Minho stomped off towards the Homestead. It felt odd, watching him give up for a change.

Minho was the best Runner we had. So if he couldn't find anything, I was sure that the code was our only option. But what to do with the bloody code? It wasn't like there was a punch pad anywhere in the Maze. At least, I didn't think there was.

Thomas stared at me, but said nothing.

My thoughts still following Minho, I left Tommy standing there to walk back towards the Weapons Room.

About ten minutes later, ten minutes gone without gaining any ground in finding the answer, there was a knock on the door. 

It was Thomas. Probably looking for Minho, I told myself. 

"Minho still hasn't shown up," I told him, "Sometimes he turns into a buggin' hothead."

The Greenie didn't reply, staring intently at Teresa instead. They seemed engaged in some sort of staring contest, the expression of concentration on their faces looking as if they were attempting to look into each other's soul.

Okay... Odd much?

Did all couples look that way at each other? I didn't remember. I shrugged it away and crossed my arms, waiting for them to come back to earth. 

"Come check this out," Teresa finally said, breaking the mental tug of war first. 

Maybe Tommy, who had come up with this idea in the first place, could come up some sort of idea on what it meant. Maybe.

I knew I didn't know, Teresa didn't either, and Frypan had made a connection between BLEED, DEATH, and STIFF, but other than that, no progress had been made.

"I'll get down on my knees and kiss your bloody feet if you can figure it out."

Teresa showed Thomas the paper, which had six words written across it in my handwriting, all numbered one through six.

1. FLOAT

2. CATCH

3. BLEED

4. DEATH

5. STIFF

6. PUSH

"So?" I leaned forward, "What do you make of it, Tommy?"