Tired of Running

31|| runner's pace

// all i can do is run;
someone tell me where to,
someone tell me what from \\

    •
    Minho woke Thomas at the first signs of daylight.  "You sure you want out?  You look pretty comfortable."  Thomas looked up, surprised, yet relieved to see Minho.  He cracked a smile, "Get me out of here..."
Minho laughed, opening up his door.

   Harper watched as Minho and Thomas disappeared into the maze, pulling her knee up to her chest, letting out a nervous sigh.  She drew her attention back to her breakfast, poking it.  Newt was soon joining her, resting his chin on her head before sitting down.
"Good morning, love." Newt smiled as he settled himself next to her.  Harper smiled in reply, her thoughts elsewhere.

~~~

    Thomas's heart was pounding; adrenaline filling him with energy he didn't know he had.
His arms pumped beside him, legs extending with the pace of Minho.  Thomas couldn't ever remember feeling this alive.  He was out in the maze.  Actually doing something worth while.
Minho looked back to Thomas, impressed, seeing he was right behind him.  Minho's pace was steady, yet he was far from slow.  Thomas kept up with him as if he'd been running for years. 

    After three lefts and two rights, Minho stopped.  He looked around, eyes up on the walls.  It was obvious he was confused.
"What?" Thomas looked at the boy, searching his face trying to read his expression. 
Minho shifted, digging something out of his pack, "Seven's open."
Thomas stood there waiting for further explanation.  Minho started writing, leaving Thomas impatient, "And?  That's bad?"
Minho stuck his paper and pencil back in his pack, finally turning to look at Thomas.
"It shouldn't be open for another week..."

Without further explanation, Minho turned around again.  He grabbed an armful of ivy from the wall, cutting it loose with his knife.
He tossed it on the ground behind him,
"Come on."  And he was running again.
Thomas didn't have any track of how long or how far they had gone, but he did know he had never seen any of this before.  Directly in front of them were tall, metal doors standing up from the ground; rows and rows of them; all forming isles.  Minho caught Thomas's gawking and smirked, "Yeah...
We call 'em blades." 

Minho stopped again after taking a few steps.
He bent down, one knee tucked under him.
On the ground in front of him lay a tattered, torn, blood stained cloth.  Minho picked it up with two fingers, examining it in silence.  Thomas joined him, "Ben's..."
Minho nodded solemnly, his face hardening.
He dropped it, once again standing to his feet.
"This way."  He moved away from the shirt quickly.  Thomas kept his eyes locked on the mangled garment before following behind his friend. 

    Deeper and deeper in, Thomas swore he would never be able to find his way back without Minho.  A low clicking stopped both boys in their tracks.  "What is that?"  Minho craned his head, asking himself the question.
Thomas listened closer.  His eyes fell on Minho- it was coming from his pack.
He grabbed the boy's shoulder, quickly spinning his back toward him. 
"Hey, what—"
Thomas ignored Minho, pulling the griever heart out.  It was blinking green this time, a low hum and clicking sounding from it.
It sounded like a locater...  Minho had noticed too, now crowding near Thomas with a perplexed look on his face. Decided, Thomas looked up, "I think It's showing us the way." 

    It was Minho's turn to follow Thomas now.  The clicking got louder until they reached a wall.  A solid, cement, hard wall.  "This is just another dead end!"  A pop sound came from the heart now; followed by a whistle, then a click.  Minho jumped back as the wall directly in front of him moaned, slowly lowering into the ground.  It was a door.  The heart was a key.  Minho grabbed the griever heart from Thomas, staring at it wide eyed; the blinking green light was now a consistent green glow.
7  was still displayed in red on the surface.
"This must be where they come from..."

    Minho's arms dropped, staring off into the new open gap.  It was a drop off- just a hazy grey mist, leading to the end off the ground. 
"What the shuck..."  The boy picked up a rock- ruble from the cracked wall.  He threw it,
waiting to hear it fall.  It went down a long time, and he still never heard it fall.
Minho let out a frustrated groan, kicking another rock off the edge.  Thomas stepped next to him, "This is it?  The end of the maze?"
Minho scoffed, "What does it look like, shuckface?  It's another dead end."
Thomas slumped, his eyes studying the new territory.  "Come on, let's get back."
Minho turned away, not giving the cliff another glance.

~~~

    "You found a what?"
Harper grilled Minho, wanting to know all the details.  "I told you.  It's another shuck dead end!"  Minho crossed his arms, Newt watching him closely.  "If it's a dead end why did you need the key to open—" 
"I don't know, slinthead!  I had never seen it before but it was just a freakin' drop off."
"There has to be more to it than—"
Minho inhaled in exasperation, "Harper! 
I'm the one that saw it!  I told you everything I saw.  There's nothing there.  If you want to go be disappointed yourself, have Thomas show you tomorrow."  He dropped his pack in the grass, walking away from the group with his head hanging. 

Harper sucked in a slow breath, her sad eyes meeting Newt's.  Tomorrow she would just have to go see it herself.  She watched as Minho left, the little hope that was left in her fizzling out.