c h a p t e r . f o u r t e e n

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"Newt," I murmured. "Newt, you're limping-"

"I'm always limping," he dismissed, almost chuckling. "C'mon Anna, just keep going-"

"Let me go," I tried, attempting to hold some of my own weight. My head was still spinning. He gripped onto me tighter, continuing to pull me along.

"Not a chance," he said. "Not a buggin' chance."

"C'mon, this way!" Thomas called from the front of the group. I willed my legs to propel forward with as much strength as I could muster, doing my utmost to ignore the burning in my side. "Keep it up, guys, we're almost there!"

Soon, Thomas slowed the group to a stop, pushed against a wall by a corridor, glancing down it. The unmistakable screech of a Griever sounded, impossibly close. Everyone shuddered.

"Is it a Griever?" Chuck managed.

"Yeah," Thomas said.

"Shuck," muttered Chuck, breathing heavily. I was leant against the wall, trying to catch my own; Newt's arm was still around me, impossibly comforting. If I wasn't so out of it, I would have been blushing bright red, despite the tear-tracks still staining my cheeks.

"You take this, Chuck," Minho said, pulling the blinking Griever 'brain' from his pocket, and handing it to him. "Stay behind us." Chuck gingerly took the machine out of Minho's hands, but his expression read nothing but fear.

"It's okay," Teresa said, as Thomas lay a hand on his shoulder. "Just stick with me."

"Hey, Anna looks in a bad way," Frypan piped up. "What we doing about that-?"

"I got her," Newt said. "It's... fine. As long as she stays awake," he said, more an instruction to me than to anyone else.

"It's clearly missed any major organs," Jeff supplied. "Or I'd guess she'd be dead."

"Newt, I can get this, if you need-" Minho offered.

"No. I'm good. We'll be fine."

"Alright. Okay, once we're through, it'll activate," Thomas said, tapping the device in Chuck's hands. "And the door will open. We hope. Alright, we stay close, we stick together. We get through this, we get out, now. Or we die trying." He nodded once, and banged his stick on the ground. "Ready?"

Everyone readied their spears, as Minho and Frypan unsheathed their knives (my bloody one was still in Minho's belt.) I heaved myself off the wall, and, still leaning against Newt, attempted to ready myself. I'd been given a spear, at least, just in case I'd ever manage to use it.

"Alright. Let's go!" Thomas screamed, before a chorus of shouts answered as we charged. Rounding the corner, we were faced with a Griever, screeching at us menacingly.

The corridor behind the Griever dropped off into nothingness; the cliff. Either side of our corridor also had uninviting gaps down each side, between where the floor met the wall. Being at the dead-end, I could only imagine Grievers appearing from them.

Screaming a war cry, the group charged at the Griever, as it pushed off in return to charge us. Dizzy as ever, I stumbled to meet it alongside Newt, attempting to brandish my spear. The Griever thrust one of its appendages with a claw-machine like tip into the crowd, latching onto a Glader I did not recognise, before launching him away. Screaming and scrambling, we had little time to react as he slid towards the path's edge and disappeared over it.

The ordeal made us pause in shock for just a moment, allowing the Griever to readjust its claw, sending it crashing down onto Teresa's leg. She screamed, and I found myself screaming too, so out of reach. Without hesitation, Teresa swung her spear by the staff like a sword at the Griever's leg, ripping the end of it right off and sending it flying away.

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