The Everlasting Maze || Dnf || Book Two

11

The words barrel into George, leaving him stunned. His mouth opens, but no words come out. He looks to Dream, as if he needs the sentence repeated.

"There isn't a way out," Dream says, "not yet."

"What..." George trails off, throat dry. He swallows, finding the courage to finish his question. "What does that mean?"

Dream hesitates, looking between George's eyes, searching for uncertainty. "Well, Punz told me that he has run the Maze a thousand times over, every variation, he's searched every corridor, took every turn, memorized the whole Maze inside and out... and he's found nothing." Dream pauses, reading the disbelief in George's eyes. "But I'm going to find a way out, I promise you, okay?"

George doesn't know how to respond, still shocked. He looks out the small crack of the doorway, peering into the Glade. The walls that loom around them seem to laugh, taunting George, telling him he'll never escape this place― this nightmare.

He stands up, unable to comprehend it, and starts pacing. As he walks back and forth, Dream asks timidly, "George? Are you alright?"

"No!" George shouts, he can't help it. Tears of frustration and anger prick at his eyes. His voice cracks as his voice rises, "We're never getting out of here, Dream. We're stuck in this fucking hell forever. How am I supposed to be alright?!"

Dream's following words are surprisingly calm, gentle. "We'll get out. I can find a way."

George leans against the wall of the Ward, staring out at the walls. The open door seems to make fun of George's despair. George says, words quieter now, but brittle, "How are you supposed to find a way out? Punz has been searching for years and you've haven't even been here for two months."

"I can do it," Dream says insistently, "have faith in me, George."

George laughs bitterly, back still to Dream. "Have faith? Have faith, Dream? We've been shoved in here like some lab rats in an experiment that has no answer. How the fuck am I supposed to have faith?" George exhales, rubbing his temples. Voice now barely audible to Dream, George says, "I don't want you going back out there."

It's dangerous. You won't be as lucky next time. The words taste bitter on George's tongue, but he knows they're true. Dream wouldn't survive another night in the Maze.

"I'm going to find a way out," Dream whispers, knowing how much those words hurt George. George can't count the amount of times Dream has repeated that sentence.

"You shouldn't have to. You've sacrificed enough."

"Believe in me, that's all I ask."

George looks over his shoulder, caramel eyes meeting those of emerald. "I do," George whispers, swallowing the lump in his throat, "but you're not doing it alone."

Dream doesn't get the chance to reply as George leaves the room. As he passes Ant, George says, "I'm going to get some fresh air, mind staying with him for a bit?"

Ant nods, and George thanks him. He leaves the Ward immediately and heads towards where a group of Gladers stand around a makeshift table. George pushes his way through, eyes widening at the disassembled Reaper that lays on the wood.

"Pretty fuckin' cool, huh?" Purpled asks with a grin. The Builder's shirt is dirty with the grime of the inner workings of the Reaper.

"I'd say," Connor says, eyes gleaming with the thrill of their new discovery. He stands across from George, gloved hands holding what seems to be a heart― only this heart is made of metal.

"It's a machine," George mutters, realization settling in his limbs. No wonder he'd never been able to recall what a Reaper was, well, other than the symbol of death with its signature scythe.