1. FIGHTER - the maze runner, newt

Chapter 36

      I ignored the sharp pain of splinters and tough nail jobs as my feet pounded down the stairs of Homestead. I watched as groups of Gladers poured into the Doors; loud voices filled with fear and confusion intoxicating the air. They were frantic, the Doors they've grown so used to protecting them, had finally failed them. The Gladers squeezed against each other, trying to stay in the middle of Homestead, where they believed would be the safest.

Coming down the stairs, I squeezed through the sweaty, mosh pit of scared boys, trying to find the exit.

I grunted as they tried to make way for me, some questioning me where I was going. Though my only quest was to make it to the doors, so I could see the damage myself.

I roughly pushed Jack to the side, finding the Homestead door with a stumble. I was prepared to expose the grassy plains and the concrete walls to match the concrete sky, but the door flew open before my fingertips could even graze the wood. A herd of ten Gladers frantically piled in, trying to escape whatever doom was ahead.

The terrified boys didn't even notice me as they tried to push through my form into safety. I felt one of the Gladers' shoulders dig into my chest as they attempted to dodge me. It shoved me back into someone else who stood behind me, my feet tripping over the oncoming Glader's steps.

I tumbled onto my right hip, the stitches in my thigh tugging at my skin. I let out a wince as I began to crawl towards the doors, trying to fully escape the panicked Gladers.

With the Homestead becoming full, many pushed outside to get in, disregarding my wincing and crawling form. As I tried to scurry across the floor and onto the grass, I briefly dodged kicking and moving boots.

Though, my hand was eventually caught under the rough rubber of a stomping boot.

"Shit! Get off me, shank!" I yelled as I pulled myself onto my knees to cradle my red hand. Yet, no one really noticed, their fear was blinding them from the present.

They couldn't worry about a girl in a time like this.

"Move, you ugly slintheads! Can't you see the lady shank is on the ground? I can't believe you consider yourselves gentlemen!" I heard a familiar snippy voice call from above me before I felt two rough hands yank me to my feet.

Disoriented for a moment, I shook my head. Though after my moment, my eyes immediately fell upon the fake smirk of Minho. Anxiety tickled my chest as I noted Minho's twitching smirk and his irregular blinking. It showed to me how he was also terrified, along with the rest of the Gladers.

"Thanks," I breathed with furrowed brows, glancing over his jittery body.

"Don't worry 'bout it! Now get inside," Minho grabbed my wrist and tried to hustle me back into the crowded Homestead, his face paling. His own facade fell, like it did in the Maze, his fear riding his expression like the incline of a rollercoaster.

"Wait! So, what's the plan? We're just gonna hide in Homestead and hope the grievers can't get through a whomping house made of wood?" I asked incredulously, pulling my wrist from his grip.

Minho gave me a look of bewilderment, about to explain but was interrupted by the deep, authoritative voice that I've grown so used to hearing, "We have to barricade the doors and windows, slinthead. We don't know how much time we have until the shuck grievers come."

I turned to Alby, my breathing becoming erratic as I looked at his own anxious face. Even our leader was scared. He too knew something bad was going to happen.

I bit my lip, looking away from Alby. I didn't want to gaze upon our scared leader. I know he's been through a lot since the time I got here, but he's never been this scared aside from the time he was going through the Changing. I don't want to see that hopelessness in his eyes.