The Glader

Einstein

NO!

"ALBY!"

I was screaming.

I didn't care who heard, me, what anyone thought.

That was Alby running to his death there.

The Grievers flared to life, one grabbing him and throwing him to the ground.

"ALBY!" I cried out again, trying to run to him, yank him back, anything.

Then a pair of hands came down on my arm, pulling me backwards.

Away from Alby.

"Let me go!" I screamed, my voice breaking.

"Are you nuts!" Thomas, the owner of the hands, shouted at me, "There's nothing you can do!"

The horrible sound of whirring filled the air as the group of Grievers converged on him, blocking my view.

Even though I couldn't see, the sound was bad enough.

Then one horrible thought shattered through my mind.

Alby was dead.

Dead.

Images filled my mind. Alby, on my first day, coming to get me in the Deadheads, Alby pulling me back to the Glade, refusing to give up on me, even when I'd given up on myself. Alby, helping Clint with the splints for my leg. Alby, coaxing Gally to build crutches for me. Alby, leading the speech after Nick's death. That one awful night when I'd thought I'd lost Alby. Alby, telling me I was his best friend. And Alby, Alby, Alby.

Gone.

Tears were pouring down my face as I slumped backwards against Tommy's grip, feeling like someone had torn a hole in my chest.

Alby.

Dead.

He couldn't be.

Could he?

"I can't believe it," I whispered, my voice raw, "I can't believe he just did that."

Tommy just shook his head.

There was a squeeze on my shoulder, and I turned to see Minho, his eyes wide. "We can't waste what he did," he said, his voice echoing meaninglessly on my numb ears. "We fight 'em if we have to, make a path to the cliff for you and Teresa. Get in the Hole and do your thing- we'll keep them off until you scream for us to follow."

"Hopefully they'll go dormant for a while," Thomas replied, "We should only need a minute or so to punch in the Code."

They were talking about escaping. Talking like nothing had happened. Talking like Alby hadn't just been ripped to shreds before our very eyes.

Talking like there was hope.

"How can you guys be so heartless?" I asked.

"What do you want, Newt?" Minho replied, "Should we all dress up and have a funeral?"

I had no answer for Minho. Minho, who had known Alby long before I had. Who should be grieving as well.

He shouldn't be talking about Alby's sacrifice like it was a tactical advantage.

I stared at the spot Alby had disappeared. All I saw was a heaving sea of Grievers, their clicking limbs and undulating blubber.

Somehow that made it worse.

"Alby didn't wanna go back to his old life. He freaking sacrificed himself for us- and they aren't attacking, so maybe it worked. We'd be heartless if we wasted it."

I shrugged, not caring anymore, closing my eyes against the tears that threatened to spill down my face, dripping to the stone floor of the unfeeling Maze.