'Till Death Do Us Part

Chapter Twenty Eight - Riley in Grieverland.

Riley clutched onto the weapon she'd been handed like it was her life line. Her knuckles were were white from gripping too hard, her lips pursed. The weapon was a long wooden stick, with a sharpened dagger lashed to the end. She also carried a long dagger tucked into the side of her belt, just in case the huge pointy stick wasn't enough.

She still didn't fully understand the plan or the code, but she knew all that she needed to - run, protect Thomas and Teresa at all costs, and try to stay alive. Newt and Alby were trying to round everyone up, shouting commands and hanging out food packs and weapons. Alby looked almost back to his usual self, but, in Riley's eyes, Newt was the leader. As she surveyed the group, she realised that, there was a possibility that half of the people she stood amongst, wouldn't make it past the night; and she might end up being one of them.

She found herself standing next to Minho, who was leaning against a menacing looking stick, wrapped in barbed wire near the end and sharpened at the tip. She gazed across at all the Gladers, and she saw that they had been transformed into a small army. A pathetic, ill-equipped army, but an army all the same.

"You ready?" Minho asked, giving her a sideways look. Riley nodded. "Are you positive you don't want to stick with Thomas, Chuck and Teresa? You'll be safe that way."

Riley shook her head, adamantly. She didn't want people to think she always had to be protected, that she couldn't fend for herself. She wanted to help, in any way she could. "I want to fight."

Minho nodded, like that was the reply he was expecting. "Just stay safe. Watch where you're going at all times - and, for the love of God, don't purposely throw yourself into danger. We all know how brave, reckless and idiotic you can be - no need to prove it."

Riley smiled, trying to push away the feeling of impending doom. "Well, I'll try my best."

Minho gazed over at Thomas and Teresa, who were talking quietly. "I have to go talk to Thomas for a second. See you." He said.

"See you."

A few minutes later, Newt and Alby had managed to quieten everyone down. The few Gladers who had decided to stay had given up walking round and telling everyone how stupid they were, and had skulked off into the shadows, muttering to one another. Everyone who had decided to take their chances against the Grievers held some form of weapon. Riley could tell everyone was thinking the same thing - they were each hitching their bets on the estimate that the Grievers would only take one a night, and reckoned that their chances of not being that unfortunate sap were pretty good. Newt, Alby, and Minho stood at the front of the group, and Riley found herself standing silently beside Thomas.

"Tonight, we're gonna make a stand against the shuck creators." Newt started, and every Glader turned to face him. "We're going to find a way out. We bloody get out now, or we die trying." He stepped back, clearly finished with his little speech.

"Wait, shouldn't someone give an pep talk or something?" Minho asked.

Newt raised his eyebrows. "Sure. Go ahead."

Minho cleared his throat, and turned to the crowds. "Be careful. Don't die." He said, dryly, his face betraying no emotion.

Newt rolled his eyes. "Great. Now we're all bloody inspired." He said, smiling a little.

Minho raised his weapon. "Let's go!" He cried, charging forward.

A sole Glader cheered, and everyone else picked up the cheer - forty-two voices, forty-two Gladers rallying together against the Grievers, against the Creators, once and for all. Everyone stampeded forward into the maze, brandishing weapons.