Disclaimer: I do not own this amazing franchise know as the Maze Runner. All rights go to James Dashner, the author of the Maze Runner, and his publishing company whom he probably sold the rights to. This story is written purely for my entertainment with nothing to do with profit or recognition. "I write what I want to write, I write what amuses me, it's totally for myself."- J.K. Rowling.
With each new month came the warning screams of the siren; with each month came another boy. Differences sprung abound between the boys yet they all had one commonality. They were trapped within immense stone walls and might never escape from the terrors that plagued them. They were called Grievers and they plagued each boys thoughts as he gazed through immense stone doors at the Maze that surrounded their home. Not one had seen a Griever and lived to tell the tale.
It was on a particularly glum morning with the sun beating down that the siren wailed once again signalling the arrival of another boy. At the sound of the terrible siren one boy in particular looked up. As glum as could be, the blond-haired boy made his way to the only entrance into his stone home.
"Bleeding box," the boy muttered as the screeching continued. A minute later, the terrible noise ground to a stop revealing the panicked shouts of the newest boy.
The voice was high-pitched with fear and as rough as the rock walls from screaming. "Ayuda!" He shouted, voice filled with panic. "Ayuadame!" The voice broke to a cracked whisper. "Por Favor." The blond's heart went out to the boy despite having never been within the terrible prison that was the Box. No, the blond had awoken in the stone prison that was the Glade along with thirty or so others around two years before.
As the metal shields pulled back from the opening, the blond gazed down at the box before helping to pull back another set of doors. He slipped into the Box. The first thing that caught his gaze was the decrepit-looking boy huddled in the corner. His silky hair was as dark as the night sky hanging shaggy over his equally dark eyes. His skin tone was a toasted brown that glowed slightly in the bright light of the Glade. The new boy was hunched over with his arms wrapped around his knees as he rocked back and forth. He hadn't noticed the blond.
"Hey," the blond offered softly. "Welcome to the Glade."
The dark eyes lifted so that they rested on the blond's face. Then he glanced away and refused to acknowledge the blond.
Shifting slightly closer to the nervous boy, the blond spoke again. "My name is Newt. Would you like to get out of the Box?" Still the new boy did not respond. The blond, Newt, sighed in exasperation and edged slightly closer. "Come on, Greenbean. You gotta get out of this hell-hole sometime, right?" Receiving no response, Newt's already thin patience wore out. With an irritated sight he grabbed the new boy's arm and hauled him to his feet, ignoring the desperate and terrified struggle from the smaller boy. "Slim it, Greenie. 'M just gettin' ya outa this hell-hole. Just doing my duty to the Glade."
There was an angry shout in response. "Consigo de encima!" The new boy tore away, scrambling up the walls of the Box and away from Newt.
"Bloody-" Newt cut himself off as he scrambled up the walls after the boy. He understood that if the boy got away something bad would end up happening to the new boy. Thankfully, one of the stouter Gladers was restraining the new boy. "Thanks Gally."
"What did you do to annoy this shank?" The other blond replied.
Newt shrugged. "I haven't the buggin' slightest. I'm not even sure this kid understands a word I'm saying." The new boy seemed to have stopped struggling against Gally's grasp, forcing his breaths to soften; he fell still. "I think you can let him go now, he looks buggin' calmer." And so Gally did.
With wild eyes, the dark-haired Greenie broke through the surrounding group of murmuring Gladers and began to walk slowly towards the forest. The group followed. Flat-out ignoring the following group, the new boy entered the small forest and plopped down on the opposite side of a fallen log as though the Gladers simply did not exist. Their leader, Nick, made his way around the fallen log to crouch next to the new boy. Very abruptly, the wild-eyed boy started barking questions at the leader, the onslaught coming fast and furious.
"¿Dónde estoy ? ¿Quién es usted? ¿Qué es este lugar? ¿Por qué no puedo recordar nada ?"
Nick raised his hands in a quiet surrender. "You'll have to speak English, Greenie. I don't understand you." He glanced over his shoulder at the curious Gladers. "Does anyone know what he's saying?" Glances were exchanged but, one-by-one, each boy shook their heads. "Ah shuck it," Nick mumbled, resting a hand on the new boy's shoulder. "Okay, simple. Me, Nick. You, name?"
The new boy gave Nick a cold glare. "La incapacidad de hablar un idioma que no me una imbisile qué hacer," he stated in a relatively calm voice. "Es usted un imbisile hace . Hola, Nick "
"Why do I get the feeling I've just been insulted?" Nick asked, confusion plastered to his face. "At least he's got my name down. Newt, get your butt over here." With a shrug, Newt obeyed the leader of the Glade and shifted through the crowd until he crouched. on the new boy's other side. "This," he pointed at Newt, "Newt. Your name?"
"Hola," the new boy grumbled in irritation. "¿Quiénes son ustedes ?"
Nick continued to speak. "I'm the leader of the Glade and Newt is my second in command. What is your name?"
The new boy rolled his eyes. "No entiendo. Hable Español, idiota."
"Have I been insulted again?"
"I do believe so Nick, I do believe so." Newt turned to address the new boy. "Ehm, hola. I'm Newt. Don't mind the bugging idiota. He's being grumpy. Can you tell us your name?"
The response was slightly friendlier. "Estoy Zahlo."
Newt glanced at his superior. "See? You just got to be nice." Nick was spluttering with rage.
"Yes, be nice, Nick," the new boy stated in perfectly good English.
A series of indiscernible noises escaped Nick's mouth.