Into the Maze

Chapter 9

(Back in the Glade...)
When Jackie heard the wake-up call on her second day of being a runner, her first thought was, not today! She rolled over and began to push herself into a sitting position on the ground, but her body screamed in protest. She flopped back to the ground with a groan of pain. Her muscles felt like gravel had been ground into them during the night, and her head was split from fatigue.
"Day two, Runner." Minho's voice breaking through her skull did not improve her headache. "Day two is always the worst."
"Stop talking. Minho, I can't move."
"That's because you're a weak Greenie who doesn't know the ways of the Runners. Yet."
"Shut up."
He didn't listen. "C'mon, shank, it's easier to run it off than lay here feeling it all day."
"Minho, you don't understand: I can't move."
But move she did, and she found that after the first ten minutes of total torture, she could run. The exhaustion wore off eventually, too, although she had to admit running was far more grueling than she imagined.
"Where are we going today?" Panted Jackie after about ten minutes.
"Tired already, Greenie?" Minho didn't break stride.
"No," she lied.
"We're just running Alec's path."
"Who's Alec?"
"A runner."
"Which one?" She sighed in exasperation.
"The boy." He looked over his shoulder in time to see her dirty look. He laughed. "Alright, Greenie. I run all of their routes at some point, just to check their map work. Thought you might as well come along this time."
"Because you'd miss me."
"Oh please, I thought you could use the experience."
"And you knew you'd miss me." She grinned slyly.
He attempted to trip her and they ran on, wrangling and arguing.
"I don't know what you'd do without me," Minho said. "I got you this delightful job, anyways."
"Sure, my mad skills got me this job-"
"Shut up."
"And you know it!"
He grabbed her arm, squeezing it painfully. "Greenie, shut up!"
"Let me go!"
"Shhh!"
His voice had gotten suddenly tense. Looking over, she saw he had cocked his head and was listening intently. "Wha-"
"Never mind." He let go of her arm. "I thought I heard a... never mind."
The flash of terror on his face told all. "They don't... come out during the day, do they?"
He looked at her, and saw that she knew. "Not usually but... it's happened before."
"I can't hear any-"
The she heard it. A click, as of metal on stone, and the whirring of gears. She froze. So did Minho. "Don't move," he barely whispered.
"But..." the lighted corridor did not seem the best place to attempt to hide from a mechanical monster.
"Wait!" Minho whispered.
Silence, another click, coming from the turn in the path a few yards ahead of them. "Minho-"
"Now!" Minho jumped sideways into her, pushing her up against the ivy-covered wall just as something shot around the corner, mowing over where they had been standing just a second ago.
The breath knocked out of her, she had only a glimpse of a slimy thing, sharp with blades and pincers, then Minho was pushing her around the corner. "Run!"
She stumbled in surprise but got her feet under her and sprinted down the stone hallway which seemed to stretch on forever.
The Griever was right behind them, she could hear the clicking sound, like talons on the stone. Minho gave her another push and ran out ahead of her. At the next corner, he turned left, running right next to the wall. She slipped, but was only a few feet behind him when she got around the corner.
She too hugged the wall, feeling the Griever right on her trail. "What do we do!?" She screamed at Minho, who was sprinting ahead of her.
"We have to get back to the Glade! They never come that far!"
She thought about the Glade. It seemed so distant, so safe. Could she make it?
Then the Griever was almost on top of her, blades spinning, spikes pulsing disgustingly. She felt a blade connect with her arm and screamed as it tore the skin.
Then something was grabbing her and pulling her to the side. She thought of the Griever, how it would drag her back into its lair, sting her, kill her. She fought with all her might.
"Cut it out, shuck-face!" Minho shouted as she punched him with all her might. "It's me!"
"Oh." She stopped, feeling blood running down her arm. "I thought... I thought it got me."
"Yeah." He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the next corridor.
She could still hear the Griever's mechanical shrieks, but they sounded a little farther away. "My arm. I can't make it, Minho."
"I know." Though tense, his voice was gentler than usual.
"So leave me!"
"No."
"What are we gonna do?"
"I don't know."
Her vision was starting to go black, blood was dripping off her fingertips, but she was vaguely aware of something to her right, down another passage. And she knew it was the answer.
"The Cliff, Minho!" She turned sharply and stumbled, with all the speed she had left, towards her last strand of hope.
She heard Minho's footsteps pounding behind her. "What are you doing?!"
She had reached the edge of The Cliff. She looked down into the abyss. "Follow me," she instructed Minho, the Griever screams echoing through her head.
She dropped down on her belly and began to wriggle over the edge feet-first. She groped around in the dark with her feet, found a foothold. She inched down until she was entirely hidden from sight, clinging to the side of the Cliff.
She felt Minho climb down beside her, and a few moments later, the sound which would always return in her nightmares echoed right above her. A Griever's scream.
The Griever's shadow played on the wall opposite her, its screams increasingly furious when it realized that it had lost its prey.
She hung in silence, hardly daring to breathe. It paced above her, screaming in frustration. Then, like a miracle, it was gone, storming away down the corridor.
But only when it was completely silent once again did they dare to climb back up and fall back in exhaustion.
"Smooth move, Greenie."
She passed out.
When her eyes flickered open, she found herself in the med-jack's hut for what felt like the trillionth time.
"Hey, Greenie!" It was Clint, smiling at her.
"Hi." She was confused, and it must have shown because he said, "don't move too much, you'll open your wound again."
Then it all came back to her. The Griever, the maze, running. Her hand reached instinctively up to her arm and she felt a bandage.
"It's not deep, but you lost a lot of blood. Minho had to drag you out of the maze," Clint said conversationally.
She scorned herself. In debt again to Minho. She didn't let herself stew for long, there were too many unanswered questions. "Minho! Is he okay?"
"He went running this morning, so I'm assuming he's fine."
"This morning?!" She sat straight up. "How long have I been asleep!?"
"We had to keep you out all night or you would move and open the cut again. We kept giving you sips of that." He nodded to a vial on the stool beside her. "Newt's been dying to see you I think."
"Can you get him for me, please!?" She begged.
When Newt arrived what felt like years later, she did not receive the same welcome that she had expected and was characteristic of Newt: smiles and teasing. He was oddly moody and silent.
"Newt! What's wrong?" She finally demanded after trying to draw him into conversation for several minutes.
"You know bloody well what's wrong." His voice was oddly quiet.
"I... don't! Please tell me!"
He was still for a moment, then stood up. "If I wouldn't have been a bloody idiot, then I would have been the one with Minho! If I wouldn't have been an idiot, then I would have been the one the Griever almost caught!"
"Newt-"
"And you would be safe, Jackie! You would be safe in the Glade like you should be, not fighting battles for men twice your size and age!"
"Newt, I'm fine!"
"I'm not!" Newt choked on his words. "You didn't see what I saw, Greenie! I thought you were dead, when you came out of the maze! I thought you were dead, and it would have been my fault!"
"Newt, listen to me!" She screamed over his shouting. "If you wouldn't have jumped from the wall, I would have found another way into the maze! And honestly"- she paused, then plunged on- "I'd rather be risking my neck to get us out of here than sitting all safe and doing nothing."
The sadness left Newt's eyes. In fact, he almost looked proud of her when he said, "spoken like a true runner, Jackie."
She wasn't forgiven, she knew that. But she had taken a step in the fight direction for this boy who had so quickly become like her brother.