The Glader

Through The Griever Hole

 It was time.

Bracing myself, I jumped feet- first into the Griever Hole.

I had the impression of going down a tunnel, then I fell into a wide-open room.

Tommy, Minho, Chuck, and Teresa were waiting, all looking jubilant. Apparently they had gotten the code in.

Down the Hole, after me, came Frypan, Winston, all the rest of us.

All eighteen.

Thomas's face was dubious. "The rest?" he asked.

"Half of us. Dead," I replied, feeling my chest ache.

Silence fell over our band of survivors. Nobody spoke. Nobody wanted to.

Until Minho did, looking determined. "You know what?" he said, "Half might've died, but half of us shucking lived. And nobody got stung- just like Thomas thought. We've gotta get out of here."

Nobody answered that.

It was as if all the joy had been sucked out of the room.

Suddenly, the walls were closing in on me, bringing with them thoughts of Alby, Grievers, and blood.

"Let's get out of here," I said, "Right now."

"Where do we go?" Minho asked.

Thomas motioned down the long tunnel that stretched onwards into darkness from the left of the computer, probably the computer they had entered the codewords into. "I heard the door open down that way."

"Well- lets go," Minho said, walking down the tunnel without waiting for a reply.

I numbly ushered the remaining Gladers past me, down the tunnel.

I couldn't wrap my head around it.

Two years of horror, and this was finally it.

It was all over.

The coveted exit was close.

The worse was behind us.

"I'll go last," Thomas said.

I nodded, then went, followed by a shellshocked Chuck.

The darkness was thick.

I could barely see my hand in front of my face, and the shadows stretched before me.

Then came the scream.

I froze.

 Behind me, Teresa's voice said, "Looks like it ends in a slide up there, shooting downward."

That's what it was? A slide? 

I let myself relax, just a fraction.

Then the boy in front of me was gone, revealing a hole, wide and gaping like a hungry mouth.

The way out.

Shrugging, I sat down and gave myself a push until I was moving, sliding, slipping away.

Then came the thought.

I don't even know where this slide ends.

None of the other boys who had gone down had called up to say they were alright, had made it down to somewhere safe.

I tried to grip the sides, but they were coated in slime and oil.

All my efforts did nothing but cover my hands up to my wrists in the oily, foul smelling muck.

It was too late to turn back, I was sliding away.

The slide dropped into a steep incline, almost vertical.

I opened my mouth to scream, feeling nausea burn through my stomach, the smell making my head spin.

Time passed.

How long is this slide, anyway?

Just as I was ready to give up the struggle and puke, the slide flattened out, spilling me onto a stack of bodies.

There was a brief struggle as the Gladers tried to all stand up, but the few that were successful were soon mowed down by Chuck, Teresa as Thomas as the slide spit them out.

Everyone was covered in the disgusting oil from the slide, but nobody seemed to notice.

I barely noticed.

What I noticed was them.

The reasons for all my problems.

The Creators.