The Maze Runner: Short Stories

Paradise

First Part! I wrote this a very long time ago. Leave feeback? This is what happeened when they went through the Flat Trans into Paradise, after The Death Cure.

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Thomas hadn’t seen him for days.

Maybe he was working. Maybe it was the fact that they had made it. Maybe it was the sheer weight of the consequences it had cost them to finally be free for the span of his lifetime he could remember.

Either way, Thomas hadn’t seen Minho for days.

Thomas made his way over to the makeshift hut that was constructed. Gally, being a builder in his former job in The Glade, had taken control of the making of hut the first few days they had arrived. It was quite nice, and could definitely stand the strong breeze that blew through. Though barely anyone slept in it, Thomas and some of the others had enjoyed being out in the open air, for once, it wasn’t burning his lungs, and it was in fact- real. They weren’t underground, their sky was real, not some stone that WICKED had put there. For once, Thomas knew there were no more lies.

The hut was in the woods, an opening in the trees that might’ve fit only about a fourth of the people, the rest found shelter under the thickest tree tops. Although it hadn’t rained, Thomas knew the lush green grass and the trees didn’t pop up from nowhere.

“Gally.”

Gally quickly turned round to face the voice, he had to look around through the small crowd of people. His eyes landed on Thomas. “Yeah?”

Thomas pushed through a few people, and headed over where Gally was standing. “Have you seen Minho? I haven’t seen him in a couple days.”

“No, last time I did was yesterday. Thought I saw him head out that way,” Gally pointed West, to the way the Sun was setting. “If you want to go find him, take this,” he pulled out a knife from this back pocket and handed it to Thomas. “It’s getting dark out there and we’re not completely sure what’s around here.”

Thomas thanked Gally, then weaved through the people until he had reached the edge of the opening, to where the woods got a little denser.

Thomas walked for about 5 minutes, it was still light outside, but while he was walking he banged his foot on a rock. He let out a cry of pain and fell over, clutching his foot with his hands. He slowly attempted to get to his feet, only to fall over again. He waited for a few minutes, sitting with his legs outstretched in front of him, trying to let the throbbing pain fade away. He was about to stand up, had already placed a hand on the tree trunk next to him for support, but an outstretched hand stopped him.

“You’re a weak little shank. Banged your toe and you can’t even stand.”

Thomas could’ve told who it was just by the words.

He grabbed Minho’s hand and stood himself up, he elevated his foot a little off the ground, scared that touching it to something would send a new wave of pain through his body.

Thomas decided to ignore Minho’s statement, figured it’s gonna get dark soon and they needed to head back.

“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you for days.”

Minho paused, rubbed his nose, and stared at Thomas for a few seconds.

“Do you want me to show you?”

Thomas nodded his head, and without another word, Minho turned on his heels and headed farther into the woods. Thomas hurried to follow, walking with a slight limp. In less than a minute, the woods had opened up by a small stream.

“Can you try not to limp like that?” Minho asked, he was watching Thomas walk over to him and sat down with his legs crossed. “Just sit down, please.”

Thomas knew something was wrong. Minho’s voice didn’t sound like it usually did. He sounded like he was actually begging Thomas, something he would never do. And he said please. His voice lacked the authority and attitude it usually had in it, so Thomas had to ask.

“Is something wrong?”

“I said sit down, slinthead. Did you not hear me?”

Thomas obeyed, and sat crossed-legged beside Minho.

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Thomas listened to all Minho had to say, and the more he listened, the more the lump in his throat grew. The whole time, one word had been repeated over and over,

Newt.

Minho had talked and talked about how he felt, something Thomas had never heard him do. He usually just blows it off with sarcasm or a playful joke. He said things Thomas wouldn’t have ever of believed would have come from him. Even sitting here, Thomas doubted himself on what he was hearing.

Minho talked about how he was scared, how he was worried about Newt, and what he must be going through. He was holding onto the hope that maybe, Newt was still out there somewhere, but Thomas could hear the emptiness in his words. Thomas had no hope, for Thomas new the truth. Newt was gone, and it was his fault.

“-I just wish I knew what happened to him. I know he’s probably dead, but I can’t stand not knowing. Think about it, I’m gonna have to live my whole shuck life without knowing what happened to him.” Minho seemed as if he was talking to himself, just being happy to finally say these thoughts and get them out. “What do you think happened to him?”

Thomas paused. He had swore to himself he would never tell Minho what he did to Newt.

How do you tell a guy you killed his best friend?

“I don’t know” Thomas answered.

It had gotten considerably darker since Thomas had come out to find Minho, and he was ready to get out of there. Yeah, he wanted to help his friend, but he couldn’t. It felt wrong, telling Minho Newt was probably alive when Thomas was the reason he wasn’t.

“Minho?”

“Hm?”

“I have something to tell you.”