Once In A Blue Moon

Eight

As the days passed, they seemed to grow shorter. All the Gladers eventually received word -- most likely from Minho -- that you and Newt were now together.

The day had, so far, seemed like every other one. You had worked in the garden with Newt, eaten lunch with him, Alby, and Fry, and watched as the sun set behind the gray walls, filling the sky with warm colors.

It was five minutes until the walls closed when Minho ran up to you, Newt, Alby, and Fry. You were all sitting in the grass by the animal pens, their noises mixing in with your conversations. 

"Have any of you seen Dan?" Minho asked. His eyes were wide and he was covered in sweat. His breath was heavy and rapid. He paced around, not standing in the same place for more than a second or two. "Did he come by here? I can't find him."

"Dan?" Newt asked, standing up and growing serious. "He's probably come back. Did you look for him?"

"Who's Dan?" you whispered to Alby as Newt talked to Minho, trying to calm him down. But he looked almost as worried as the latter, and he wasn't doing much to help quell his angst.

"He's a runner," Alby answered. 

"Minho, bloody slim yourself, will ya?" Newt yelled, stopping Minho. He asked again, voice shaky but clear, "Did you look for him?"

"His map's empty, we're missing some weapons, and he's not in the Homestead or map room. Newt, he's my best runner! There's no way he let a Griever-" Minho started, imagining the worst possibilities.

"Minho, don't jump to any conclusions. What section was he running today?" Alby asked. He was clearly trying to push some logic into Minho's thoughts.

"He was in eight," Minho answered. He rubbed his forehead, leaving . "Shuck. I knew something was off today, I should have known-"

"We don't have time for that, Minho," Fry cut him off. "Let's go wait by the door. He still has" -- Fry looked at Minho's watch and his eyes spread wide -- "time." He said the last word with uncertainty, as if he had lost all hope.

Minho ran over to the west door of the Glade, followed by the four others. They watched for movement -- any sign of it. But there was nothing. 

Other Gladers had begun to catch on, probably after hearing Minho's yelling. Some of them stood silently, watching. Others passed uncertain whispers to the people around them. You stood in the front of the crowd, watching as the walls started to slowly move towards each other. You felt Newt quickly reach down and grab your hand. He squeezed it almost too tightly. You could feel his heart beating too quickly to be considered healthy as he stared into the Maze. 

All of a sudden, quick movement was the only thing you could focus on. A boy was running -- sprinting so fast it looked like he was about to fall over -- towards the Glade. 

Minho screamed out his name, stepping closer to the walls. You tried to move, to join the Gladers in screaming Dan's name, but you couldn't. Something was holding you in place, thwarting you from doing anything but thinking about how you knew exactly how this was going to end. 

Dan ran faster than you could have ever imagined even Minho running and was so close when the space between the walls became impossibly small. The Gladers screamed encouragement.

Suddenly, you saw something moving behind Dan and regretted looking immediately. There was a large animal -- if you could call it that -- rounding a corner. It had legs that had to be at least six feet tall supporting a monstrous scorpion-shaped animal. Its body had all sorts of appendages on it. You could see spikes and blades sticking out from its stick-like legs. A shiny layer of what looked like slime coated every inch of it. Dan stopped running as the creature charged him. 

It made a horrible buzzing noise and each of its steps sounded like a metal rod being beaten against another. Dan looked back towards the Gladers. There was no more than a foot of opening now, and Dan seemed to know that he was either going to have to face the giant animal or get crushed by the walls. Whichever would have been less painful, you couldn't even begin to guess.

The animal got closer as Dan let out an ear-piercing scream. You had only ever heard yourself scream, but you recognized the sound of sheer terror. The metal doors slammed together, blocking everyone's view. The noise echoed across the Glade like a declaration of the young boy's death.

You thought you heard Dan still screaming before you realized that you had been screaming with him. It didn't matter, though. Many of the other Gladers were yelling and cursing much louder than you were. 

You felt someone grab you around your middle and start to lead you back, but you had no idea who it was. The world seemed to have gone quiet. Some of the Gladers were still yelling, some banging on the doors as if it would magically open them back up, but all you could hear was the memory of Dan's final breath wasted in a scream.

You turned to look and see who was pulling you back. Newt. He was saying something, but you didn't know what it was. Your ears didn't seem to be doing their job.

You tried to speak, tried to tell him to let you go, but you just stood, staring into his fearful brown eyes. He seemed to understand, despite the lack of words. He took your hand gently and placed his on your back as he got you to walk away from the other Gladers. You reached the logs that were set up by where the bonfire had been, and Newt sat down with you on one of them.

You could hear his breathing. It was rapid and uneven, not exactly the most comforting thing. Some of the other Gladers had started to walk away from the doors, but others, Minho included, stayed.

Your senses had returned -- you could hear the Gladers talking in the distance -- but your thoughts remained scattered.

"Y/n," you heard him say. You couldn't bring yourself to respond. He sat for a while and let you process what happened. You wiped your face, which was coated with a mixture of salty tears and hot sweat.

When you could bring yourself to form words, you asked, "What was that?" Your voice was less controlled than you wanted it to sound. It shook with either fear or shock, but you didn't know which one. Maybe it was both.

"I don't think you want to know that, Y/n," he chided.

"You don't decide what I want to know," you snapped at him. He looked into your eyes before breathing a sigh of defeat. Once you knew he would, you told him, "Tell me, please. Tell me what happened to Dan."

"They're called Grievers," he explained. "They come out at night."

"So why was there one out there now?" you interrupted.

He shook his head. "I don't know. Sometimes people get stung by them in the middle of the day and we don't know why. All we know is what we can see of them, and we can't see much of them when the doors are closed."

"Stung?" you ask. He nods. You think back to the creature running towards Dan. Almost any inch of its slimy skin could have punctured anybody's body. "Why can't you just send out some people at night to study them? A runner?"

"Because, Y/n, nobody has ever survived a night in that bloody Maze," Newt answered. This, added to the events of the day prior, didn't seem to surprise you that much. "And we're not about to risk a life to study something if we're not guaranteed information at the end of it all."

"So even if that. . . that thing didn't kill Dan," you pondered. "He's not coming back here." Newt nodded again, more surely this time.

A tear slipped from your eye and you turned away from Newt so he wouldn't see. But Newt knew why you had turned. He moved closer to you and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you tightly towards him. You placed your forehead on his chest as tears fell involuntarily from your eyes, clouding your vision.

Newt held you there until you stopped crying, which was much later. He walked you slowly to your sleeping bag. There, you didn't even attempt to sleep. Every time you closed your eyes, the image of the Griever filled your blackened vision, and you couldn't bear to remember Dan's screams another time. Newt sat next to you all night, occasionally running his fingers through your hair, until you couldn't hold your eyes open anymore and fell asleep to one haunting thought: what if it had been Newt?