Count On Me ➵ Newt [1]

THE END | escaping the maze

▬We ran through the Maze with Thomas in the lead and Minho taking up the rear. I felt a hurricane of mixed emotions in me; I was terrified, of course, but excitement and - dare I say it - hope, coursed through me like a tidal wave of adrenaline, and I wondered if we were actually going to be able to escape the Maze. For once and for all.

Thomas shouted out words of encouragement back at us as he ran, and I couldn't help but admire his sudden confidence and ability to lead. He seemed nothing like the sulky, confused boy he once was when he arrived in the Box. 

After a long while, maybe hours or so, he motioned for us behind a wall and we complied, panting and breathing heavily.

We held our breaths in anticipation as Thomas stole a peek around the corner.

"Is there a Griever?" Chuck asked him, his voice shaking.

Thomas nodded curtly. "Yeah."

Fear rippled among us. Thomas unsheathed his knife and I did the same, pulling out my machete and gripping it tightly.

"Ready?" He said, fiery determination burning in his eyes. Without waiting for our answer, he roared, "Let's go!"

The rest of us roared along with him and we rounded the corner and charged down the corridor. Just like Thomas had said, there was a Griever at the other end, pacing around as it guarded the exit. It turned towards the direction of our voices and footsteps and let out a horrible haunted moan. It started to run towards us, its metal spikes clawing at the ground to let it gain speed.

We charged it, weapons raised, and smashed into it, shoving our wooden shafts and blades into its body. The Griever screeched again as it nearly toppled off the chasm on either side of us. Its spikes lashed out and several Gladers tripped over. The tail seemed to shoot out of nowhere - it snatched up unsuspecting Gladers and toss them out of sight.

"Push it!" Thomas yelled, jabbing his wooden pole at the Griever. I realized that he was trying to shove the monster off into the chasm, and I rushed forward, helping him. The other Gladers followed suit, and soon, the Griever slipped and toppled off into the chasm, not before letting loose one last screech.

Before I could even blink, I heard more whirring noises behind us and whirled around. There were about four or five more Grievers advancing on us, baring their razor-sharp fangs and spikes. I could feel terror and despair among the group of Gladers - it took all our strength and courage just to defeat one Griever and now we have to fight more?

The monsters charged us all at once, and it was all we could do to defend ourselves. I stabbed at every bit of soft flesh I could find in the creatures, but they seemed to do no damage. My now throbbing shoulder was no help at all. 

More Gladers fell into the chasm. More Gladers died. For every spike we deflected more seemed to take their place, the Grievers lashing out their tails every now and then and dragging someone away. Chuck and Teresa ran into the Griever Hole, probably to type in the code to get us all the hell out of there.

One of the spikes came at me and I deflected it with my machete - but another one lashed out at my arm and I couldn't jump away in time. It sliced through my skin and my knees crumbled as I cried out in pain.

The Grievers bared their fangs at me, sensing that I was weak, and were about to kill me when I heard a defiant shout from behind me. I watched in horror as Jeff rushed forward and threw himself into the line of fire. 

I screamed at him to get out of there, my throat raw, but he defended off the Grievers, bringing their attention onto him instead of me.

It was deja vu. I could still see Mark jumping in front of me to save me from the Griever in the Glade, only to get stabbed in the process. I couldn't allow that to happen to any more of my friends - not on my conscience.