Murder In The Maze (Maze Runner Fanfiction)

Chapter 9: Another One

"Tammie, get up."

     A voice abruptly shocks me out of my sleep.  I hazily peer through my half-closed eyes, observing the sun beaming throughout my cell.  A constant ache shreds through my body from my bed.  My mind begs me for more sleep, just a couple more minutes...

"Tanya!"

     Newt shouts, a little louder this time.  I snap myself awake at the sound, shooting up from my bed, "What?"  I groan, rubbing my eyes before they can adjust to the morning light.

     Newt grips the door, releasing the hatch, "Time to get back to it, Greenie.  Ain't no slacking in the Glade, or is that another rule ya gonna break?"  The sound of the metal chaffing together only awakens me further.  I step out of my bed, hobbling up the wooden stairs, and into the Glade.

     The crisp morning air brushes against my skin, prickling my arms as I cast my eyes across the Glade.  Already, people are beginning their day's work, some gathering plants, others supplies.  I cast my eyes back to the Maze doors.  Runners reluctantly jog inside the Maze, I guess no one's seen a Griever in a while.  

     A beaming smile crosses Newt's face, I guess someone's having a better morning than me, "You still sick or whatever?"  I ask, running my hand through my hair.  

     "Nah, gettin' back to running in —"cutting off his sentence, Newt stares at something behind me, with a concerned expression.

    "What?"  I turn around to see Gally running towards us, a grave look on his face.  

     "We got...another...one."

     He stops, heaving for breaths, with beads of sweat trickling over his skin.  Gally smears his sleeve over his forehead before continuing, "In the...deadheads. Alby said to..." Gasping for more air, he proceeds, "...to get you, both of you."

     With that, he slowly starts jogging back towards the deadheads.  Newt hastily sprints after him, as do I.

     It doesn't take very long to get there, there being the outskirts of the deadheads.  We approach a cluster of trees, casting a shadow over a small clump of Gladers.

     Despite the brightness of the day, unusual darkness falls over the area due to the towering trees.  The dampness of the air gives for an uncomfortable heat, like that of a greenhouse or a glass room.

     Alby leans over what looks to be a body, surrounded by Jeff and Newt, while Gally remains more distant, looking quite ill.  I hobble closer to the body.  Part of me knows that I don't want to see, but I have to.

     "Bet this wasn't what you signed on for, Greenbean.  Wasn't what I did, clearing up bodies I mean,"  Jeff remarks, flicking through the contents of his medical bag.   I am unable to see the dead boy completely, but he looks to be quite strong, maybe a track-hoe, or a runner.   Hesitantly, I step closer, leaning down beside Jeff.

     Dirt lies scattered throughout his curly chestnut hair, maybe he put up a fight.  Pale skin stretches across his sunken cheeks, drenched of any color it once possessed.  Dead brown eyes stare up at me, devoid of any emotion, lifeless.  I quickly turn away, too scared to look, but I manage to focus my vision back.   

     A cut rope, ruffled at the edges, lies on the ground beside him.  He must have been hanged, I think to myself.  An immense feeling of pity swells inside of me, wreaking havoc in my mind.  Who could be next?  Jeff's voice pulls me out of my daze, "It's Wyck, seems although he's been here a while."

     Gally instantaneously twirls around and retches, spewing puke over the forest floor.  Jeff mutters indistinct complaints, while Alby directs the attention back to Wyck, "Just get him outta here, back to the med-bay until the baggers collect him."

     Jeff grabs what looks like a stretcher, resting on one of the trees.  Laying it on the forest floor, Newt and him begin to move Wyck onto it.  I try to help, reaching for the boy's arm before ripping my hand away.  His cold skin sends a shiver rippling through my body.  Regaining my composure, I reluctantly grip Wyck's arm, pushing his onto the stretcher.

     Small tears start to brim in my eyes as a lump forms in my throat.  I fight the urge to cry, dwelling on it is only going to make this worse.  Forcing down the tears, I step back from the body, dreading the journey back to the med-bay.

     Newt walks in front of me, whispering in a faint voice, "It's ok, I'll take him."  

     "Thank you..."  I mumble, almost inaudible.  Newt and Jeff tightly grip both ends of the stretcher, manoeuvring their way out of the deadheads, Alby ambling behind them.

"C'mon Greenie."

     Gally motions towards the treeline, already beginning to head in that direction.  "Wait!"  I shout, glancing back down to where Wyck lay only moments ago.  There has to be some clue, evidence, something.  I scan my eyes across the ground, searching for anything that might be out of place.  

     Gally moans a little, stumbling back to where I am.  Only the rope I saw earlier remains.  I lift it from the forest floor, soon spotting the place where it was once attached.  A deep groove penetrates one of the branches looming above me, from what looks like the rope.  Whoever did this must have been quite strong.

      I direct my gaze back to the rope.  It seems quite sturdy, thick, but surprisingly clean.  

          Puffing in annoyance, Gally asks, "You coming?"  I nod, stuffing the rope into my medical pouch.