The New Horizon ~ A Maze Runner Story

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Minho and Thomas took off meandering through the dense verdure of the forest. The way the morning light broke through the leaves and branches of the trees above was sublime; like a kiss from Mother Nature. Even despite Thomas's angst to leave Paradise, he had to admit it had true beauty, nestled between skyscraping mountains and an endless sea. And whatever lay beyond that, Thomas was desperately curious to figure out. Which brought him to his plan. The plan to get out of Paradise, somehow, someway. Someday. And he had to tell someone. He just had to.

Within only minutes of running, a cramp began forming at Thomas's ribs, throbbing and squeezing, prodding at his nerves. Minho was way ahead, jogging smoothly, without strain, as he brushed outstretched hands against the protruding tree leaves.
Thomas coughed, then winced and winced again as he gulped down too much air. His ribs were burning. And it was all his mistake. Minho caught on, staring behind him at Thomas who was doubled-over. "Probably shouldn't have run right after eating."

"Well, it's not like you tried stopping me."
Minho scoffed, "Shank, you're a Runner, too. You should know that for yourself."
"Could we walk? You know, just for a little bit." Thomas asked, now standing straight, gripping at his side. The pain was beginning to subside--barely.
Minho broke into a series of jumping jacks. His voice was surprisingly steady despite the jumping. "Man, I was just getting my pace."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't. Let's walk and enjoy the scenery. Besides we've covered most of this place."
Minho shrugged mid-jog. "Fine, but only for a couple of minutes. I need my cardio."
Minho dropped in beside Thomas as they walked, though it was less leisure than Thomas expected. Minho was busy, walking in fast strides as he scanned over the plants beside them.
He held a nifty, makeshift compass in hand and swore it was accurate. But Thomas wasn't so sure.
"Hmm. . . Let's see . . . We've been northwest, we need to go northeast. I think--yeah. Northeast it is."

Every direction--north, south, east, and west seemed to be an exact replica from the last. Like one huge duplicate. The same plants and trees. Same wildlife. Same birds that chirped. Nothing was new. Just like life. Thomas blew out a breath and held out his fingers, brushing them against a bush as they went on aimlessly roaming.

An hour had passed, and Thomas was bursting with boredom. He and Minho had returned to their brisk jogs and Thomas was relieved to run without his ribs yowling in pain. But his head was consumed with thoughts. Ablaze and ignited. He felt the urgent call inside of him. One that gave him the gumption to stand by his plan of leaving Paradise. The drive was nearly like a voice inside his head, prompting him to act on its encouragement. And Thomas held close to that feeling, that palpable impulse of intuition--the ultimate plan to leave Paradise once and for all. And the impatience to get back to the huts and sort out his thoughts was overpowering.

"It's all the same, Minho," Thomas said so suddenly that Minho whirled around. "Let's go back. You're not gonna find some big award, if that's what you're looking for."
Minho came to a stop, squinting mildly in question. "You always want to come out here with me."
Thomas shrugged. "Yeah, I did."
"You alright, shank? You're acting a little weird. No offense."
"None taken."

Minho set both hands on his hips, chest heaving only slightly in comparison to Thomas. "Good that. Let's keep going, then. You're complaining isn't gonna get you some big reward, if that's what you're looking for."
Thomas swallowed down his impatience. There wasn't much he could do, and very little to argue about. Minho was dead set on exploring and had already resumed his jogging. So, Thomas did what he could. He joined his friend.

Sunset was nearing its final transition into nightfall when Thomas and Minho came back, sweaty and exhausted. Their stomachs growling for sustenance. Everyone--from the shore to the onset of the forest--was out, basking beneath the deep, smokey orange sky. Finishing up the daily construction, only to set it aside for tomorrow.
"Could you give me a little help?" Aris asked from behind Thomas and Minho. The boys nearby were all clearing hefty wooden planks from the pathways. And if Thomas thought he was filthy, a good look around at the other boys proved they were worse off.

"You need two of us to help you move one plank?" Minho asked, expression showing his disdain. Aris only nodded.
"What a wuss," Minho reluctantly grabbed hold of the end, and Thomas joined in on the other side. Another boy directed them to a large, towering stack of other misshapen wooden planks. Together all three boys lowered the plank onto the others with a resounding thud.
"Excuse me." A voice called in the distance. Brenda. Thomas whirled around to see her carrying her own cumbersome plank. Boys rushed to her assistance, outstretching their arms in horror of her dropping it. But Thomas stayed put. He knew Brenda was stronger than most every one of those boys--including him.

"Sure you got that?" Minho was at her side, clutching the other side of the plank. Brenda shook him off.
"What, you think just because I'm a girl I can't carry wood or something?" She retorted, setting the plank down with ease.
Minho held his hands up in mock surrender. "Forgive me for being chivalrous. Geez."
Brenda overlooked him and nodded to one of the boys behind Thomas. "I'll be back with some more."

As she turned to walk the opposite way, her eyes locked onto Thomas's. The faintest of smiles laced her expression. "Thomas, wanna join me?"
He failed to say no, and besides, he did desperately need to speak with someone about that crazy plan of his. Keeping it quiet was insanity.
As they began walking, Thomas's warring thoughts finally won the best of him. He trusted Brenda. He had to tell her. "Brenda, I have to talk to you about something."
She turned to him, her face a mixture of question and interest. "Yeah? Now's the perfect time."

"Good, well . . .," Thomas's voice trailed off. He suddenly felt so ridiculous for even thinking of such a thing, for ever agreeing to trust his intuition--or was it just craziness that was prompting him to leave Paradise? Had he just gone completely nutso?
"C'mon, spill it already."
Thomas nodded, staring off into the warm orange atmosphere, noting how the sun made the tree tops almost sparkle as it reflected off the leaves. Without much thought, he clutched onto Brenda's hand, made sure the coast was clear, and took off walking in a completely different direction. "Follow me."