Chapter Twenty Two

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Clara's first instinct was to abruptly leave the Council room. Her movements kickstarted a reaction in the other Gladers, who followed soon after with questions that were bouncing around her mind too.

Why is the Box coming back up now?

She didn't stop at the sounds of Minho and Thomas talking behind her. She only stopped when she was beside the closed Box, her heart thumping in her throat as she looked down at it in stress and fear.

Newt and Gally got there soon after, throwing open the Box doors and shedding light on what laid inside. And Clara only felt her heart thumping faster.

It was a girl.

Newt went to leap down into the Box, but Clara put her hand out in front of him to stop him. Mesmerised by the long awaited arrival of another girl in the Glade, she waited a few moments before explaining why she had prevented Newt from moving.

"I should probably do it, seeing as I'm a girl."

He nodded in agreement and approval, and Clara didn't wait another second to jump down inside. Feeling the Box lurch under her weight, she quickly crouched down and moved to inspect the girl.

She had long dark hair sprawled out over the floor, fair skin with light freckles sprayed across her nose and cheeks, and she was unconscious. Lying across the Box, her eyes were firmly shut and her lips were ever so slightly parted.

"What is it?"

"What do you see?"

Curious voices yelled from above, from those who arrived too late to see the girl before Clara's figure cast a dark shadow over her. She turned to look up at her friends, spotting Thomas in the crowds looking just as intrigued, and knew already that the girl's appearance was being made clearer when she shifted.

"It's a girl."

Whispers rose up again, but she firmly ignored them as she turned back to look at the sleeping girl. At least, she thought she was sleeping. She can't be-

"-Dead?"

"Hmm?" Clara hummed in confused response, only having caught the end of Newt's sentence.

"Is she dead?" He repeated, his tone edging on impatience.

Clara let her fingers rest over the girl's wrist, feeling for a pulse. She held her breath as she did so, praying hard that she found some sign of life. She released it when she felt the soft tap of a heartbeat under her fingertips.

"She's alive."

In the back of her mind, she registered the sighs and shouts of relief from the Gladers watching on. And then she noticed something strange clenched in the girl's hand.

It was a crumpled piece of paper, placed purposefully in her fist, to be found by one of them. Huffing quietly, Clara immediately knew that this was the work of the Creators messing with them. But she also knew that they needed to know what it said.

She unfurled the girl's closed fist and took the paper from it. Unfolding it and smoothing it out, she let her eyes dart across the sheet before reading out loud what it said.

"She's the last one ever."

There was a single beat of silence as the Gladers processed the words. And then, as quickly as it came, it was broken.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

It was obvious what it meant. Considering the odd time for her arrival, it was apparent to Clara that it meant the girl was their last Greenie. And that had to mean that things in the Maze were going to change.

𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦, thomas (tmr)Where stories live. Discover now