The New Horizon ~ A Maze Runner Story

- 8 -

The stars shone like twinkling beacons in the tranquil night sky. Thomas watched, transfixed and exhausted, as the small, dwindling fire in front of him began to die out. Its tendrils of smoke swirling upwards and vanishing from sight just as fast. Down below, Thomas could even spot the massive bonfires in Paradise. On ground level, they were huge, but from up in the mountains, they looked like orange crumbs of light speckled amongst the land.

The crook Minho discovered was hardly spacious, but Thomas was just thankful to sit down. His legs were burning, even after resting them for hours. His lacerated tailbone, bandaged by Brenda, felt like its own small fire on his body, throbbing with heat. The food Frypan cooked had rejuvenated Thomas on a whole new level as he and his friends sat, squeezed against each other on the jagged slopes.
"What if a wild animal came out of the woods right now and ate us?" Minho said aloud, interrupting the peaceful silence. Thomas groaned. He popped a handful of berries in his mouth, relishing the sweet juice that bursted on his tongue. His taste buds were in heaven--the rest of his body was not.

"What if an earthquake shook us off of this mountain--"
"What if one of us kills you," Brenda interjected, her face radiating annoyance.
Minho leaned over Thomas and spoke directly at Brenda, raising his eyebrows. "What if Brenda is secretly a psychopath."
Thomas could barely react as Brenda leaned over to chuck a rock at Minho's bandaged arm.
"Okay, okay. Geez, woman."
"Let's just get some sleep." Aris said, yawning. Thomas couldn't agree more; his fatigue was winning over.

"Aris is right." Thomas said, suppressing the contagious yawn. "We still have a lot more to hike tomorrow. Getting all the sleep we can is crucial."
"Fine," Minho sighed. "Fun's over I guess. Good night, shanks--and Brenda."
"Night, Minho." Thomas said, tenderly adjusting himself against the rocky crook. His tailbone burned, irritated with the uncomfortably confined space.
As if Brenda had sensed his discomfort, she leaned over Minho and spoke to Thomas. "How's your back?"

He winced as he reached backward to gingerly touch it, feeling the pasty sensation of wet gauze. He imagined how nasty his blood-stained shirt would look in the morning. "Bruised and banged up is the best possible description."
"Can't help but say it was my fault. I shouldn't have slipped."
Thomas shook his head, staring down at the sticky, red tips of his fingers. The metallic smell of  blood tying his stomach in a knot of queasiness. "It's not your fault. Those rocks are tricky."
"Well," Brenda sighed, "I hope we won't have to hike much longer."

"Me too. We'll just have to wait and see."
"Yep. Good night, Thomas."
"Good night." The fire had completely dwindled now and Thomas peered into the twinkling embers, pulling the scratchy wool blanket to his chest. He pushed aside the physical pain as slumber won over.

The magnificent sun arose the next morning, beaming a golden light over the world. The pain in Thomas's tailbone had surprisingly diminished--at least until he started to stretch, prepping his enervated muscles to wake up.
The day beckoned them to resume their tireless journey up the sloping terrain, and after a quick meal of bacon and berries, all four of Thomas and his friends trudged on.
"If anyone goes falling down this slope, then good knowing ya." Minho said, already panting from the steep inclination. They'd only been hiking for twenty minutes. And there was so much more to go.

Minho and Thomas estimated on the first day they had climbed four hundred feet, but there was at least that much more to go the second day, if only that. And it was much more painful than the first day. Sweat slicked every last part of Thomas's body as the midday sun blasted upon them, relentless and brutal. Pain. In his legs. Pain. In his chest as he gasped for air. Pain. From his tailbone, the gauze damp with blood and sweat.

The last stretch of the mountain proved to be the most difficult. It became almost impossible to breathe. The cardio was ruthless. Pure agony. Legs burning like an internal inferno. Twisted knots of muscle. Cramps. Stinging, half-numbed feet. Fingers and palms, bloodied and scraped. Thomas began to lose hope; the further they trekked, the taller the peaks of the mountain grew. Until, a heavenly bliss bursted inside Thomas as Minho announced joyous news.
"Guys . . . We reached a plateau! Hurry up--get up here!" He yelled in between violent pants.
Thomas watched from the rear of the group as Minho mustered his last ounces of strength and pulled himself up and over the mountain, disappearing from sight.

"Where'd you go?"
"I'm laying down. Shuck, this is nice!" Minho exclaimed, poking his head over the cliff.
Brenda had her hands on her lips, her whole body heaving with exhaustion. "A little help would be nice."
Minho reluctantly lowered his arms over the mountain and Brenda latched on. After a few grunts and groans, Brenda was on the plateau. Aris went up next, then Thomas.

The plateau was beautiful. Thomas could hardly believe what his eyes were computing. The land was completely untouched. It was a lush dreamland of green. Trees, bushes, and shrubs thrived throughout the land. Delicate wildflowers of pastel shades lived amongst the verdure, swaying carelessly in the cooling breeze. Birds sang, welcoming the four newcomers. Sounds of critters and movement emanated. Thomas was astonished, incredulous. Like they had just been teleported into the scene of some nature documentary.

Minho was the first one to break the silence. "Is this real?"
Thomas was almost too overtaken to reply. "I'm glad we made it up here in one piece."
"Tell me about it." Brenda added, doubling over.
Thomas turned around to look out at the small world they called Paradise. From that vantage point, the land looked insanely small. Almost like a fairy village--something from an old movie Thomas remembered watching as a kid. If only the people in Paradise knew what being that high up actually felt. It was breathtaking.