[1] Let Me Go ➝ The Maze Runner ✓ (WATTYS 2015 WINNER!)

*Stung*

*Stung*

Newt propelled himself through the homestead; I hot on his heels. Minho was in the room next to the one I had been in, asleep under the covers. His face seemed strained, however, as if in pain. His shoulders were tense and his skin clammy.

"What happened to him?" I asked, gazing at him with concern.

"He got stung, didn't he?" Newt said quietly, refusing to meet anyone's glance. I placed a hand comfortingly on his shoulder. He was visibly upset.

"I'm afraid so," a young boy answered, clutching a rag. He smiled at me and dabbed Minho's head.

"Hey, I'm Jeff," he greeted, offering me a nod.

"Hi Jeff. I'm Rowan."

"Is he going to be okay?" Newt asked slowly, his face creased in desperation.

Jeff paused for a moment, glancing at the runner, and nodded. "Yes. He'll he fine after he's gone through the changing."

Newt's shoulders relaxed and he made his way out, sighing. I followed, lingering at the door to glance back, then rushed after him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I think so. It's just... Minho's usually careful, y'know. Not likely to be stung."

I remained silent, then left him alone to wander about the Glade. I made my way to the deadheads and knelt beside one of the crosses. The writing was too illegible to read, so I ignored it and stared out across the field. My new home. I wondered how long we'd be here. Perhaps forever. Until we died off, one by one, either by the grievers or carelessness or some other reason.

Unless we found a way out.

That's was the runners did, right? Map the maze and look for clues for an exit? That's what I wanted to do. Be a runner. Help find a way out. Help everyone escape and see what's there for us outside these walls. Because none of us had a shucking clue.

"Hey," a voice said beside my ear, jolting me out of my daydream. A somewhat chubby kid was crouched next to me, a kind smile playing on his lips.

"You're Rowan, right?" He asked, staring straight ahead.

"Uh, yeah. I am," I muttered, unsure of what to do. "What's your name?"

"Chuck."

I nodded. And then smiled; he seemed friendly enough, and I needed friends in this place. "Okay, Chuck. What're you doing out here?"

He shrugged impassively. "Hey, you hungry?"

As if responding to the mention of food, my stomach gurgled noisily and I chuckled. "Looks like I am," I said softly.

Chuck suddenly jumped up and began stalking away with heavy strides. Was I supposed to follow him?

"You coming or not?" He called over his shoulder, and without a second thought, I bounded after him, wondering if Newt was still okay.