1. FIGHTER - the maze runner, newt

Chapter 37

      It was three in the morning, I think. Every Glader was crammed into separate rooms, hoping to gain some form of sleep during this dreadful night.

I was stuffed into Newt's and my room along with Newt, Alby, Minho, and Thomas. Every room consisted of five to six people. I was thankful to be pulled into a room that was filled with most of my friends. Except Chuck, who was tucked into Minho's old bedroom down the hall.

Newt and Alby rested their hunched backs against the window side of the room, while Thomas and Minho sat on my sleeping bag. They were all mute. Remaining as quiet as possible. They stared blankly at the floor, not even managing to blink an eye.

As for I, I had taken a dresser from one of the other rooms and had it pressed against the window. I sat still on the top, peering through a wide crack in the barricaded window. I refused to remove my narrowing eyes from the East Doors, preparing to see a griever crawl through the opening. With no more arrows for now, my bow laid useless next to Thomas. Instead, I cradled the machete that laid on my lap, not really confident in my use of it.

I was sleepy, but my mind couldn't shut off from the incident that happened eight hours ago. The dull darkness that bounced off the concrete ceiling played with my mind. With no sun or moon, I couldn't tell when it was time to sleep and time to be awake. It only pressed negativity into the back of my mind.

I heard voices from behind me converse quietly every once and awhile. I was so concentrated on the Doors and walls, I barely picked up anything they said. Everything they said went over my head.

Well, for the most part.

I heard their voices mumble their emotions but not a single word stuck to my head. Their conversations stuck to my head like raindrops on glass.

Until Minho spoke up.

"First thing, tomorrow morning, you guys can assign teams to go study the Maps full-time while other teams go into Maze. We'll pack our bags to the shucking brim so we can stay out there a few days." Minho spike sturdy.

My eyebrows shot up at Minho's idea, intrigued by his forwardness. I nodded my head, liking the plan. Aside from my careful intakes, I remained silent.

"What?" I heard Alby's voice perk up. The floor boards creaked closer to my left ear, making me believe that Alby leaned forwards, "We have a Homestead to hide in. If that don't work we got the Slammer and the Map Room. We can't ask people to go out there and die, Minho! Who would agree with that?"

My mouth opened before I gave it permission to. My lips moved with no control as I spoke firmly, "Me."

For the first time in eight hours, I removed my gaze from the walls. My eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light in my room, meeting the eyes of all four men. I gulped but kept a neutral expression as I gazed over to Minho.

He gave me a nod before cocking his head over to Alby, "And me."

Alby chewed on his bottom lip as his gaze dropped to the floor. He was seeing something. He's seen some crazy stuff in that head of his. He's more protective of us. More than ever.

"And me." Thomas spoke up after Minho, keeping sheepish eyes on Alby. Thomas played with his hands as his own eyes flickered across the room.

I cocked my head, indicating Thomas's fear. He was terrified. I was terrified. To explore the Maze for days would be a huge step for Glade. And for the Runners. Days out in the Maze mean we're on griever territory. We'll be even more at risk out there than we are in here. Yet, what's the point of staying when there's no real protection.