1. FIGHTER - the maze runner, newt

Chapter 13

After an hour worth of begging Minho to teach me how to fight; he finally agreed.

We stayed in the Map Room. Well not exactly in that room. We were under it. Where they kept all the weapons and where they used to do one-on-one training. It was a small room that could only fit ten Gladers if they weren't claustrophobic. From the floor to the ceiling, it was about seven feet high, just tall enough for grown boys to fit under. The walls were made of concrete while they floor was a flat dirt surface. Along the left side of the tight room were black, plastic crates, full of different weapons and targets.

Minho explained to me how they don't really use this space much anymore. They used to when the first group of Gladers came along. They all assumed that if all the grievers were dead, their freedom would be rewarded. So, they trained. And as you can tell, their hypothesis was incorrect.

At first, Minho helped teach me hand-to-hand combat. It was definitely challenging and I wanted to have a mental breakdown near the end of it, but Minho said I was doing surprisingly well for someone with no training. I like to believe my hand-to-hand combat improved and that maybe I could just punch a griever in the face and kill it then and there. Obviously, sleep deprivation was getting to me.

I learned that you can't always punch with your more dominate arm. As Minho said, "You have two arms for a reason. So, use them." Then he made me practice punching with my left arm. He had pulled out a large bag of leaves that was stored in one of the crates, claiming that it was their make-do punching bag.

Minho taught me a couple easy and effect moves to pull myself out of a tackle and a chokehold. Which would've been pretty useful today. Minho also taught me the basics of blocking hits and how to focus all my anger on my strength. He continued to push me until my arms were sore and my knuckles were splitting.

We stopped hand-to-hand combat once a bit of my blood splashed onto his blue shirt. He didn't tell me how I was doing but I assume that it wasn't too bad.

After hand-to-hand combat, we moved on to weapons. He taught me how to fight with knives first. They were the most common to the Gladers. They were easy to grab and small enough to carry around. Surprisingly, after forty-minutes of practicing dodges and rehearsing jabs with the knives, I have to say that I caught on quicker than I thought. Certain movements were almost hypnotizing.

We were actually suppose to go to bed after practicing basic Glade attacks, but as I was packing away the knives, I spotted something else in the trunk next to it that made my exhaustion turn into sudden excitement.

"Minho?" I asked, continuing to stare at the instrument in front of me.

"Hm?" Minho yawned.

"Do...do you know how to do archery?" I asked.

"No...I always go out into the Maze with spears. Alby and a few others use bows and arrows. Most of us use knives or spears." Minho shrugged.

"Would it be alright if I try?" I asked, reaching in to grab the deathly instrument.

Minho groaned aloud, looking at me with a look that clearly displayed his exhaustion and annoyance. "Look, I already taught you self defense and everythin' I know 'bout fighting. I ain't teachin' you how to shoot an arrow." Minho hissed.

"Then don't teach me. You go to bed and I'll teach myself." I offered.

"I'm not allowed to leave anyone down here. For all I know, you could be this crazy chick that kills us all in the middle of the night while we're all sleepin'." Minho threw his arm around exhaustedly.

"Wow, your faith and trust in me is really...reassuring." I gave him a taste of his own sarcasm.

Minho rolled his eyes, "You know what I mean. Besides, it's Alby's rules-"