The Maze In Her Heart (Newt, Minho ::The Maze Runner.) ✔

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: Grievers & Codes

MINNIE

I look up to the sky. Still gray. With the sun nowhere to be seen, it was hard to tell what time it was. I saw Minho look up multiple times, before groaning and glancing down at his runner watch. 

The other runner that had tagged along, Matthew, was jogging in place, uneasily. 

"This part is never open." I look over at Minho, gesturing to a large gap in the maze that we had just stumbled upon. 

"I didn't know it even could open." He says breathlessly, before looking over at me. "Come on, let's go. Matthew, take watch." 

Matthew uneasily messed with his runner vest, before glancing at his watch. "It's almost time to leave." 

"I know, shank, but we have to check this out. It might not be open in the morning." Minho says, before grabbing my arm- gently. We walk slowly into the large, exposed area. It was a huge opening- like areas six or eight, but there was no number this time. As we turned to look up at the wall, the only thing we could see were in huge, blocky letters:

WICKED.

I turn to look at Minho, who was staring at the words, jaw dropped. "What does that mean?" I whisper, feeling that same adrenaline in my body return that I always got right before I went running in the Maze. He looks back at me, his eyes softening. 

"Your sister said WICKED sent us here, right?"

I nod, reaching my hand up so I can bite down on my fingernails. He walks up to the wall, and runs his hand down it. His fingers grasp on some ivy, mindlessly, before he lets his hand fall. 

"Maybe this is it. The way back." I speak up. I know it may be true- why else would it reveal itself at such a critical time? Something was happening, and some part of me couldn't help but feel that Marie and I may have caused it.

Or maybe it was the new greenie. She's the last one. Ever. 

Was WICKED letting us leave? And why?

Minho walks back, and looks at Matthew, who was pacing in the doorway. 

"There's another path. Let's just... Let's go down that one really quickly." He whispers, before grabbing my hand and rushing. I run along his side, pumping out my breaths evenly to match my heartbeat. I had gotten much better at that over my time of being here. 

We reach the end, and turn left, the only turn available to us. 

We reach another opening, and stop dead in our tracks. In front of us is a group of Grievers. There were at least six of them, their large bodies moving around with clinks and hums. In the claws of the largest was Gally, knocked out cold. 

Minho stumbled backwards against the wall and drags me with him, out of sight of the grievers. All of their backs were to us, but it didn't stop the breath-stealing fear that one would turn around and take away everything we had in the swipe of one, large mechanical arm. 

There was a clicking, and a few sounds that sounded like moans of pain. Except they weren't human moans of pain- they were something alien. 

"Are they talking to each other?" Minho whispers to me, flat against the wall. I reach up to place a finger on his lips, and lean across him to peek my head from behind the wall. The Grievers were talking to each other- and it seemed as if they were devising a plan, almost like when Marie told us hers. The largest Griever was like Marie- talking and advising almost, Gally swinging limply in its clutches. The others seemed to latch to every word, with as much emotion that a soulless creature can.