The Glader

Alby's Confession

 "What am I up to?" Tommy shot back, "Nothing! Why would I make all this up?"

"For all we know you were sent here to get us all killed. Why should we trust you?" Alby replied.

"Alby, do you have a short term memory problem? I risked my life to save you out in the Maze- you'd be dead if it wasn't for me!"

"Maybe that was a trick to gain our trust. If you're in league with the shucks who sent us here, you wouldn't have had to worry about the Grievers hurting you- maybe it was all an act."

Then Minho stepped between them, which luckily meant I wouldn't have to take sides. I agreed with Tommy, but Alby had a point. But I had to trust Thomas. Everything he said made sense.

"Alby," the Keeper of the Runners said, "That's about the dumbest theory I've ever heard. He just about got freaking torn apart three nights ago. You think that's part of the act?"

Alby nodded, looking angry. "Maybe."

"I did it," Tommy said, sounding furious, "On the chance that I could get my memories back, help all of us get out of here. Do I need to show you the cuts and bruises all over my body?"

He was right, of course. He was a Glader, one of ours. He was subjected to the Maze, just like us, which somehow made me angrier. If he was a Creator, then he was one of them. Or he should have been. He had been thrown to the wolves by the very people he had helped.

"We can't go back!" Alby yelled suddenly, "I've seen what our lives were like- we can't go back!"

"Is that what this is about?" I asked, incredulous, "Are you kidding?" We had to get out. We had to go back. Nothing could be worse than the Maze. "Alby, talk to us, what's going on?"

Alby sank into a chair, his shoulders shaking with sudden sobs. "I did it," he finally said, "I did it."

"Did what?" I asked.

Alby met my eyes, looking sadder than I had ever seen him. "I burned the Maps," he said, and the confession hit me in the stomach like a punch. "I did it. I slammed my head on the table so you'd think it was someone else, I lied, burned it all. I did it!"

I staggered backwards, numb with shock. I had trusted Alby above anyone else in the Glade. How could he have betrayed us, the Gladers? How could he have betrayed me?

"Well, it's a good thing we saved those Maps," Minho said, "Thanks for the tip you gave us after the Changing," his voice was so sarcastic it cut, "To protect them."

"Alby, can you explain why?" I said. I was stunned, more than angry. We had saved the Maps and Alby was my friend. That's what mattered.

"I'm telling you," Alby said, his voice rising with hysterical fear, "We can't go back to where we came from. I've seen it, remembered awful, awful things. Burned land, a disease- something called the Flare. It was horrible- way worse than we have it here."

"If we stay here, we'll all die!" Minho snapped out, "It's worse than that?"

"Yes," Alby said, his answer chilling me to the bone, "it's worse. Better to die than go home."

Minho just laughed. "Man, you are one butt-load of sunshine, let me tell you. I'm with Thomas. I'm with Thomas one hundred percent. If we're gonna die, let's freakin' do it fighting."

"Inside the Maze or out of it," Tommy finished.

I was with them. I wasn't going to choose to die a coward this time. I was going to face the Maze and the World, Flare klunk or no.

I was determined to Escape. 

 I thought Alby would show sense at that, but he only said sadly, "Do what you want. Doesn't matter," he walked to the door. "We'll die no matter what." Then he left the room.

I sighed. The old Alby would have wanted to go down fighting by our side. "He's never been the same since being stung- must've been one bugger of a memory. What in the world is the Flare?"

"I don't care," Minho replied fiercely, "Anything's better than dying here. We can deal with the Creators once we're out. But for now we gotta do what they planned. Go through the Griever Hole and escape. If some of us die, so be it."

Frypan interupted. "You shanks are driving me nuts. Can't get out of the Maze, and this idea of hanging with the Grievers at their bachelor pad sounds as stupid as anything I've ever heard in my life. Might as well slit our wrists."

The other keepers started talking at once, so I stood.

"Shut up, all of you!" I yelled, "In case you haven't noticed, Tommy is the one talkin', not you shanks. So sit your butts down and let him talk!"

Thomas flashed me a grateful glance, then said, "I'm going through the hole or I'll die trying to get there. If we can fight off the Grievers long enough for someone to punch in the code and shut them down, then we can go though the door they come through. We'll have passed the tests. Then we can face the Creators themselves."

His optimism was almost pitiful. It would never work. I smiled sadly, then said, "And you think we can fight of Grievers? Eve if we don't die, we'll probably all get stung. Every last one of them might be waiting for us when we get to the Cliff- the beetle blades are out there constantly. The Creators'll know when we make our run for it."

"I don't think they'll sting us," Tommy replied, "The Changing was a Variable meant for us when we lived here. But that part will be over. Plus, we might have one thing going for us."

"Yeah?" I rolled my eyes. It seemed like nothing was going for us. "Can't wait to hear it."

"It doesn't do the Creators any good if we all die- this thing is meant to be hard, not impossible. I think we finally know for sure that the Grievers are programmed to only kill one of us each day. So somebody can sacrifice himself to save the others while we run to the Hole. I think this might be how it's supposed to happen."

The room fell silent at that happy thought.

Finally, Winston spoke out. "Excuse me? So your suggestion is that we throw some poor kid to the wolves so the rest of us can escape? This is your brilliant suggestion?"

"Yes, Winston, I'm glad you're so good at paying attention," he replied. Winston shot him a death glare.

"And it seems obvious who the poor kid should be," Thomas said.

"Oh yeah? Who?"

Tommy stood up straighter, crossing his arms. Then he said, "Me."