Into The WICKED Maze | A Maze Runner Story (English Version)

14. Stan's last fight

"Stan! Stan, calm down!"
But it didn't help, he didn't calm down a bit. It was getting worse. So bad that I was afraid he might break free and attack me again, because he seemed to be absolutely not sane.
And then it happened. He managed to free one arm from the ropes and immediately started to open the others, while he stared over at me with dark, milky eyes and a black stuff running out of his mouth.
"I'll get you in a minute. I'm gonna get you..."
Oh, shit.
I didn't know what to do. I was lying on the couch and was actually in far too much pain to even move, but I knew I had to get out of here quickly, because once he had grabbed me I would definitely not be able to defend myself. I lacked the strength to do so.
So I rolled off the couch and moaned when I hit the ground, luckily not on the right side. I desperately tried to straighten up, but it just didn't work, I was too weak. With all the strength I had left I crawled towards the door and had almost reached it when Stan - one leg still tied to the couch - caught me by the foot.
I cried out in horror, but my scream was drowned in his calls. I waved my arms wildly and got hold of the door frame. He pulled on me more and more and a terrible pain went through my right side. Again I cried out, this time louder.
When he couldn't pull me towards him, he pulled with all his might on the couch, which after a few seconds gave a loud bang and collapsed.
Stan was free and I was still on the floor. There must be something I could do.
Again I screamed for help, this time as loud as I could, while I panicked and looked around for a weapon. On a shelf above me, a pair of scissors peeked out. I had to get to it somehow and immediately.
My opponent was now above me and squeezed my windpipe like yesterday, only this time so hard that I saw stars after only a few seconds. I croaked and looked him in the eyes in horror where I saw nothing but emptiness.
Damn it, where the hell is Newt?
With all the strength I could muster, I kicked Stan between his legs and heard him howl and gave a short clear throat. I used the moment and kicked the shelf with my last strength.
Nothing happened. The scissors wobbled, but remained lying there.
I kicked again, this time harder, which immediately made me cry out in pain again. But I was lucky - the scissors fell down and landed right beside me.
Not a second too soon, because Stan had already recovered from the pain and was at my throat again. I tried to scream for help once more, but I had the feeling he was just crushing my larynx.
I don't want to do this, oh please, I don't want to do this!
But I had to. If I didn't fight back now, I would be unconscious in less than ten seconds and probably dead in another ten.
So I pushed the scissors into his side with all my strength. I immediately felt blood gushing out of the wound and his grip around my neck weakened until it died down completely.
The dark faded from his eyes and I looked into the wide open eyes of a boy who was almost 15 years old, if he was at all. I could hear him gasping for breath and in the next moment a gush of blood came out of his mouth. Immediately afterwards he fell on me with his entire weight, twitching and gurgling, and buried me underneath him.
He breathed a few more times gurgling before he went completely limp and all that could be heard were my loud sobs.
I couldn't move, the freshly sewn wound was throbbing and stinging and I found it hard to breathe, so I kept gasping for air between the sobs. But I just couldn't stop crying, not even when I noticed how the lack of oxygen threatened to make me lose consciousness.
It felt like hours until two loud and two uneven steps came towards me. I knew that the fight hadn't lasted longer than two minutes, if at all, and that I was guaranteed not to be buried under Stan for very long, and yet I would have wanted to ask the one with the uneven steps, who had to be Newt because he was limping because of his leg, why he had been away for so long if I had been able to.
"Oh shit! Newt, get Nick and Alby!" Clint fell to his knees before me and I felt his hand tremble as he carefully touched my head. "Anna? Hey, can you hear me?"
"What about her? Clint, there's so much blood! She's not..." I heard Newt's voice breaking.
I immediately tried to open my eyes, but I was too weak. So I gathered all my last strength and gave a soft moan.
"Oh, thank God!" Clint stroked my forehead. "All is well! Now go get those two. She'll make it. It's not her blood. It's Stans."
Newt seemed to hesitate, but then I heard his footsteps recede, slower this time.