Shuck it [ minho fanfiction ; the maze runner ]

SHUCK FACE - Survive

<<published 20•Nov•2014>>

Dedicated to iCheesePuff because she's so cute.

{I'm dedicating it like this bc I don't know how to use the wattpad functions to do a dedication}

A/N: hello guys☻ I AM BACK! Did you miss me?? No? Maybe? Okay then.
You guys should calm yo tittays cos here's the next boooooook!

It starts at the part just when Ever again ends, which is 'you' dashing out into the maze.

Hope you enjoy, and thanks for the support guys, I love you :)
♡

Adrenaline.

It courses through your veins, chilling your whole body to the bone. Your senses are at their peak, notifying you of every little rustle of vines on the wall, every little drip of water from shuck knows where to the ground.

Every little sound seems to echo in your ears, head.

The little gusts of wind now and again bite at your skin with grippingly cold fangs, juxtaposing the memory of Minho's warmth. His embrace.

It's all you can do not to break down and curl up into a ball.
All you can do to keep yourself together.

There's no time to think.

No time to falter.

No time to be weak.

You break out into a run, going at incredible speed. You shock even yourself at the sheer amount of determination ruling your head, channeling energy to your legs and lungs.

You weave your way through the narrow and wide passageways, suppressing the claustrophobia that threatens to close the walls in on you.

He's alive, you tell yourself. He is... He has to be.

Sourcing all the willpower you have inside, you lasso your mind and your muscles to work as one. In sync.

A bitter laugh escapes your throat when you think of what you and Minho could be doing if he wasn't trapped out here.
Moving together.
In sync.

Bitterness.
Anger.
It will do you no good, but you had our it anyway. There isn't any time to process anything, but the hatred towards the ones who put you in here, put Minho in here, bubbles up inside your chest.

Hatred can fuel your energy just as well as hope can.
With that, you run for all you've got.

It's been a while now. Your pony tail is getting loose, your hair sticks to your damp face. The clothes you're wearing cling to your body in the most unflattering of ways, and you feel that unmistakable burn prickle in your calves.

Everytime you hear a whirr of clicks and the grinding of metal, fear sparks inside your heart, and you dart in the opposite direction. You're getting no where. At the most, you must be running in circles.

Beetle blades flash their little red lights in the darkness, and you know sooner or later, a griever will arrive.

You double over, gasping for breath.
It's hopeless.
You're going to succumb to fatigue any minute now.

You feel lactic acid coating your muscles, creating a dull but excruciating throb in your legs.

You survey your surroundings. Walls, vines, more walls, some more vines.

Whoever made this place must have had once been a child full of angst because he wasn't able to solve a maze.

Leaning against the wall, you press your cheek to the moist, jagged stone, in an attempt to cool yourself down.

Your legs are going to give way any moment.

And you know what?
You're going to let them.

You try to conjure images of Minho, his smile, his laugh, his warm embrace... Nothing comes to you. Your heart is numb.
The sadness and pain you're trying to feel isn't there. All you can feel is the cold.

It's a dream.
It must be.
Everything seems so surreal.

You finger a leaf on the vine covered walls, cursing it for being so lucky. What to leaves do anyway? They just live happily, by rain and sunlight, and they die a normal death.
No feelings.
Nothing to lose.

You sink down onto the grimy ground, letting hot tears spill over your eyelids and trickle down your face like rivulets of rain.

The only sounds around are the rustling of leaves and your gasps for breath.

And that's when you hear it.

♡

Whirring and clicking. Whirring and clicking. Whirring and clicking.

Metal.
Grinding against metal.
The whirrs and whizzes sound very much like those made by mechanical gadgets, yet these sound so loud. So piercing. So deadly.

The multiple knives Minho told you about flash in your mind. The metal spikes protruding out of the monster's body penetrate your thoughts, igniting immense fear.

The griever turns the corner.
It's an ugly, hideously grotesque creature, part animal, part machine.

It rolls and clicks along the passage, sparse hair and slime giving it a glistening sheen. Metal spikes pop through its bulbous flesh every now and again and it rolls on its spikes. Then they recede with a thick, slurping sound.

Mechanical arms protrude from its body, armed with needles. Claws.

A burst of adrenaline takes you by surprise, and your legs start to run. Your body isn't even controlled by your head anymore. Everything you're doing now is based on pure instinct and four words stick in your head.

Survive till the end.

You bolt.
The walls whizz by you as you scramble along the passageways. Your hair is whipped back by the wind and you hear the disgusting cries of the griever as it gives chase.

Down another passage.
Turn. Another passage.

The griever is getting closer.

You round another corner. Right. Left. Then right again. Another long corridor. The thunderous humming and clicking from behind are not gone, but they're fading, and you're not losing ground either.

On and on you run, your heart ready to blow its way out of your chest. With great, sucking heaves of breath, you press on. You know you can't last very much longer.

Rounding the next corner, you skid to a halt at the sight in front of you.

Minho.

A/N:
Whoops!

Hahhaha I felt that the suspense would only be good if I stopped it here, I can't just write everything all at once, psh.
Y'all would get so bored. I'd get bored too.

I put in direct lines from the book so if you can spot them, good that!

Anyways, do leave a vote or a comment if you like this chapter or just want to show support for your lovely (nahhhh jk) author. LOLZ.

See you guys in the next chapter❣ ;)