The Cost of the Cure

Chapter 91

"Minho followed it out there!" Thomas says, whirling around to face the two of you the second you catch up to him.

"I know," Newt says, pulling away the towel from his head. Blood has already seeped through it. "Shuck it. That hurts like a mother. Minho must have finally fried his last bit of brain cells-- not to mention Gally. Always knew he was crazy."

"I'm going after him," Thomas says, looking back into the Maze.

"Minho'll take care of himself," you remind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to pull him back. He doesn't budge. "He knows what he's doing."

"Bedsides," Newt adds, glancing at the smoking Map Room. "We've got bigger problems."

"What?" Thomas questions, annoyance creeping into his voice and his eyes still glued to the Maze.

"Somebody--" Newt starts.

"There he is!" Thomas interrupts, pointing down the Maze corridor.

You squint until you can make out the lone figure running back. It's Minho.

Thomas cups his hands around his mouth, calling into the Maze. "What were you doing, idiot!"

You glance at Newt raising an eyebrow. "Ironic coming from the person who was planning on running in, too."

His mouth twitches up in a small smile.

Minho finally stops in front of the group of you, doubled over and with his hands on his knees. Sweat slicks his face. "Slim it, ya shanks. I just wanted to see if they went towards the Cliff. The Griever Hole."

"That what?" you ask.

"Griever Hole," he repeats. "You've missed a bit, but it's basically where the Grievers go during the day. It's right off the Cliff. Invisible. Kinda like a portal."

"And did they?" Thomas asks.

"Bingo." Minho grins, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"I just can't believe it," Newt mumbles to himself. "What a night."

"What were you about to tell me?" Thomas asks, turning to Newt. "You said we had worse--"

"Yeah." Newt jabs his thumb over his shoulder towards the Map Room. "You can still see the buggin' smoke. Somebody burned the map trunks. Every last one of them."