𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐲 || 𝐚 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜

The Maze

"Nice to see you too, Tom." I dust off my top, then eye Thomas. A shaky feeling comes over me, like my body was still in disbelief. Running the closing doors of the Maze had been an impulse. Not at all something I thought I'd be doing ten minutes ago. But I did it, and all because of the boy that stood in front of me.

"I told you about the grievers. The chances are slim that anyone lasts a night out here. You should've stayed in the Glade." Thomas let his worried eyes settle on my figure. I notice his hand clenching his leg. 

"You said yourself that you'd survived a night in the Maze. And shuck the grievers, you weren't going to make it through. Besides, you said you'd protect me, so I figured I can do the same." Even as the words slipped out my mouth, I was terrified. I prayed no griever would find us tonight, that we'd make it out alright tomorrow morning. But it sounded that the odds of that happening were low. Thomas slides down the wall, then sat there in the dirt, his back against the stony surface. I did the same. 

Thomas reaches out his hand, touching my arm gently, fidgeting with the bandage. "With what? Any of the weapons are back in the Glade. You've basically killed yourself coming in here with me." 

I pull a blade from my belt. It was one of the one's from the Blood House. I had tucked it away after I failed my attempt of becoming a Slicer. I guess I'd forgotten to give it back, or maybe I just thought I'd borrow it. Just in case. I glance back at Thomas' leg, pointing to his injury with my knife. "What happened? Why didn't Minho slow down to help you?"

"I cut my leg while looking at something. Minho was already too far ahead to know. I'd lagged behind after he'd told me to leave it alone, that we were killing time. He said we had to keep moving." Thomas peers at his wound, then back at me.

"What was it? The thing you stopped to look at?" I question as he let me tend to his leg.

"A griever. The one I'd killed when I was with Minho and Alby weeks back."

I tear off a piece of my shirt for a bandage, a bit of my stomach now exposed. Thomas and I share a silence as I do my best to wrap his wound. I felt his eyes trail on my face, and look up, catching his stare. 

"Sorry," he says, his eyes still studying me. Thomas had a dazed expression, as if he were blown away, or in a trance. Though, I wasn't sure what for. I wasn't anything special. The moon beamed on his face, illuminating the sweat and grime that covered his brow from the hard work of the day. His brown eyes seemed to glow. I felt like I was lead in some sort of fantasy-romance, sitting here in the Maze with Thomas. I probably sound insane, absolutely cringe-worthy. But I'm being honest. So of course, I had to ruin it.

"We should probably look around, get moving. I don't want to just sit and wait for a griever to find us." As soon as I finished with Thomas' "bandage", I stood up.

Thomas nods, his hand awkwardly going to his neck. "Probably best."

We walk for a couple hours, hearing grievers's shrieks every once and awhile. We make small talk, but I resist telling him about Gally. I still didn't understand what was going on with that boy: him bullying me, basically offering me a job as a builder, apologizing to Hank, and then whatever he was trying to say to me just moments ago. Whatever his issue, I knew he'd probably never let it step into the light. Being vulnerable wasn't exactly Gally's strong suit. 

After awhile, Thomas suggests we go check out his trophy, the dead griever. But just as we neared the corner, us nearly there, I hear the hellish sound. Grievers. They were close. Thomas and I look at each other for a moment before another shriek fills the dank passages. "Run," Thomas mouths. The griever steps into the passage as soon as we begin to pick up speed. I look behind me only a second, seeing the huge mech-spider beast. Its appearance only drives me to run faster. I don't wish to die today, it just my second day in the Glade. "Here! Quick!" Thomas makes a sharp turn, causing the unprepared griever to slam against the stone wall behind us, giving us just enough time. Thomas boosts me up, me then clenching the vines of ivy, as if they were woven ropes. Thomas is right behind me as we cling to vines, climbing up the wall as fast as we can force ourselves to. My arm starts to throb, the stamina I'm forcing onto it almost too much for it to handle as I pull myself higher up the vine. I wonder how Thomas' leg is doing. I push myself on, as I can't risk plummeting to the concrete at the height we now hung from. Especially with a griever not far behind, waiting to kill us. I was scared out of my mind.