The Boy With The Limp || TMR Fanfic || DISCONTINUED

Chapter 33; Mapping The Maze

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Hazel's P.O.V

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I watch as my big brother grabs a bunch of markers from the messy pile and hands them out to us. He grabs a sheet of wax paper and places them onto the table.
A popping sound fills the air as Thomas pulls the cap off the marker. "All right, everybody trace the last few days onto a piece of this stuff. Make sure you write the days' info on it so we know what is what. When we're done, I think we might see something."

Minho scurches up his nose in confusion. "What-?"
"Just keep cutting the bloody thing," Newt orders. "I think I know where he's going with this."
Thomas visibly relaxes when he hears Newt say those words. I place my marker in between my lips as I tear a sheet of wax paper from the box with my free hands. Taking the cap off, I begin to follow the boys' lead, transfering the copies of the original maps onto the wax paper.

I trace out the maps with my black marker, jotting down little pieces of notes onto the wax paper every now and then. Perspiration drips down my forehead as I feverishly try to keep up with the others, trying to keep my work accurate and correct while working as fast as possible. Box by box, section by section, we continued on tracing out the maps.
"I've had enough," Newt speaks up after what feels like an eternity. "My fingers are burning like a bloody mother. See if it's working so far, Tommy."

Thomas wipes the sweat off his face, flexing his fingers as he places his marker down. "Okay, give me the last few days of each section -make piles of them along the table in order from Section One to Eight. Place One here-" He points at one end of the table. "-And Eight there." He points at the other end.
The rest of us then go to work with no questions asked. We sort thorough the wax paper maps that we'd traced, only stopping when eight piles of the maps are lined up on the table accordingly.

Anxious, I hold my breath as my brother brouses through the pile, making sure that everything is placed correctly. He then places them one on top of the other so that each drawing matches the same day and the day before it. He does that until we're looking at the eight different sections of the Maze all at once. Teresa lets out a gasp as the lines start appearing to cross over one another, forming the letter F in the middle of the map.

I feel a wave of emotions wash over me as I glance at the maps.
"Man," Minho breaths, staring at the aligned maps in awe.
"It could've just been a coincidence," Teresa comments, skeptically. "Let's hurry up and do more."
That we did. I sorted out the maps while Thomas laid down the eight pages of the day down onto the table. Each time an fairly obvious letter started forming in the middle of the wax papers, where the lines crossed over each other.

"Look," Thomas announces, pointing down at the line of stacks we'd all formed together. "It spells FLOAT then it spells CAT."
"Float cat?" Newt questions. "Doesn't sound like a bloody rescue code to me."
"We just need to keep working, I bet the words will be clearer as we finish mapping them," Thomas says, confidently.
A few minutes and a couple of tires later did we realize that the second word was actually CATCH.

"This can't be a coincidence," Minho states.
"Definitely not," Thomas agrees, nodding his head excitedly.
I can tell that he couldn't wait to go through all the maps to find out what the code was. I can't blame him, I want to get this all over and done with so we'd finally be able to get out of here. I need to find Gally. I have to make sure he's alright, that he is still alive.

"We need to go though all of 'em," Teresa says, gesturing towards the boxs in the storage cupboard. "Every last box."
"Yeah," Thomas agrees, barely containing his excitement. "Let's get started."
"We can't help," Minho says.
The four of us look at him, confused. Minho returns out glares. "At least not Thomas and I. We need to get all the available Runners out in the Maze."
"What?" Thomas exclaims. "But this is way more important!"