LIMERENCE ﹐ the maze runner.

33

Lights blazed throughout the Homestead. Gladers ran about, everyone talking at once. A couple of boys cried in the corner. Chaos ruled.

Thomas ran into the hallway, followed by Clara as he dragged her along, their fingers intertwined. He then leaped down the stairs three at a time. He pushed his way through a crowd in the foyer, tore out of the Homestead and toward the West Door, sprinting. They pulled up just short of the threshold of the Maze, Thomas's instincts forcing him to think twice about entering. Newt called them from behind, delaying the decision.

"Minho followed it out there!"Thomas yelled when Newt caught up to him, a small towel pressed against the wound on his head. A patchy spot of blood had already seeped through the white material.

"I saw,"Newt said, pulling the towel away to look at it; he grimaced and put it back. "Shuck it, that hurts like a mother. Minho must've finally fried this last bit of brain cells - not to mention Gally. Always knew he was crazy."

"We're going after him,"Thomas replied.

"Time to be a bloody hero again?"

Thomas looked at Newt sharply, hurt by the rebuke. "You think I do things to impress you shanks? Please. All I care about is getting out of here when it comes to that."

"Yeah, well, you're a regular toughie. But right now we've got worse problems."

"Why? What happened?"Clara asked.

"Somebody-"Newt began.

"There he is!"Thomas shouted. Minho had just turned a corner up ahead and was coming straight for them. Thomas cupped his hands and shouted,"What were you doing, idiot!"

Minho waited until he made it back through the Door, then bent over, hands on his knees, and sucked in a few breaths before answering. "I just... wanted to... make sure."

"Make sure of what?"Newt asked. "Lotta good you'd be, taken with Gally."

Minho straightened and put his hands on his hips, still breathing heavily. "Slim it, guys! I just wanted to see if they went toward the Cliff. Toward the Griever Hole."

"And?"Clara asked. "Did they?"

"Bingo." Minho wiped sweat from his forehead.

"I just can't believe it,"Newt said so softly it was almost a whisper. "What a night."

"Anyways,"Clara said. "Newt, you said we had so worse problems."

"Yeah." Newt pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "You can still see the buggin' smoke."

Clara looked in the direction he was pointing to, and saw that the heavy metal door of the Map Room was slightly ajar, a wispy of trail of black smoke drifting out into the gray sky.

"Someone burned the Map trunks. Every last one of 'em."

"No,"Clara whispered. "No. No. No."

"Yeah,"Newt replied.

"It's all gone?"Clara asked.

Newt nodded. "Yeah."

"No, I don't believe you,"she said. And then she ran. She ran - ignoring the boys calling her name, telling her to come back, ignoring the tears that ran down her face as she ran, ignoring the anger at the person who had, ignoring the anger in general.

Clara coughed a bit as smoke seemed to wash over her, like a wave in the ocean. But she continued to jog towards the Map Room.

And then she arrived. The door was blackened. Clara stepped into the building, ignoring the fear she had when she saw the dancing flames. She trampled on a small flame with her boot to smother it as she stepped in.