Before Thomas {A Maze Runner Fanfiction}

S1-Ep1: Pilot

The air was silent; a cool breeze sifted through the trees of the Deadhead, and whistled through the cracks of wood in the few huts scattered around Homestead. The beginning of a new day marked also the start of a new month. As usual, the boys were gathered in a circle around a covered hole whose murky depths contained the next victim of their unsettling plight. Anticipation hovered in the air between the men, masking their anger and confusion towards whatever menace was behind their current condition.

"Why is it taking so long?" someone's voice rang out, peircing through the silence. All eyes turned to the plump figure of Ric.

"Slim it, Greenie," Nick, the group's self-appointed leader said, his eyes narrowing. "It'll come when it comes. No use waiting around for it if you don't want to, so just leave."

"You won't be calling me that for much longer," Ric muttered under his breath. The tall boy next to him elbowed him in the ribs, treading on someone's foot in the process.

"Oy! Watch where you're stepping, Newt!" Zart shoved in front of Newt and glared at him.

The air seemed to grow colder. On one side of the circle, Dalton and Ben played thumb war while P.F., Will, and Dave cheered their favorite on, taking private bets as to who would come out on top.

"Pin it down already, ya shank!"

"You almost had him!"

"IDIOT! HIS THUMB IS RIGHT THERE!"

On the other side, Minho and Alby were deep in conversation. How they were able to tune out the ruckus around them was anybody's guess. Despite the circumstances of not knowing where they were, who they were, and who did this to them, life persisted.

"YA BLOODY SLINTHEAD!" angry voices rose from the thumb wrestling match as Dalton took his victory with pride.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SLINTHEAD, SLINTHEAD?" Ben tackled P.F. and they fell to the ground which caused more hollars and hoots from the boys on the sidelines, this time capturing Minho and Alby's attention.

"It's always a bloomin' miracle when we make it to the next day without being killed by each other," Nick remarked. Newt shook his head.

"Better any of them than a Griever."

Nick headed towards the tussle, yelling, "Break it up!" in an attempt to use his position as leader to break up the fight.

"HEY! YOU SHANKS WANNA SPEND A NIGHT IN THE SLAMMER?" Alby spoke up, running in after Nick, much to Nick's annoyance. Ben and P.F. took a few more swings at each other, but gradually became bored with the fight and rolled away from each other with nothing more than a few bruises to show for it. P.F. wiped his mouth with a hand and spat on the ground.

"That's the last time I bet on you during a wrestling match," he said.

"Aw, shut up, P.F. That's a stupid thing to be betting on in the first place," another boy, Hank spoke up. "At least make it a real wrestling match next time. This whole "thumb" business is some sort of stupid. What klunkhead thought of it, anyway?"

"Slim it, Hank," Nick said sharply. He pointed at P.F. and Ben with opossing fingers.

"Now you two behave yourselves or I will personally drag your pathetic butts to the slammer. We don't have time to be beatin' up on each other with them things out there."

With their attention diverted, no one seemed to hear the familiar clangs and whirrings underneath the wood panels, signaling the arrival of what they had all been waiting for. It was Ric who first heard the noises, excited to finally be rid of the dreaded "Greenbean" nickname.