Chapter 02 - Joan

Joan was smart, vivacious, and curious.

And for all these things, her chapter ended short.

Once, she almost died trying to scale the walls. With nothing but a knife and a belt made of the vines from the maze, she climbed as far as she could before falling from exhaustion. The tears I had promised never to let go of again began to fall from the thought of being alone. She opened her eyes and laughed at me.

Again, she almost died trying to dig her way under the wall. But the walls were as deep as they were high, and she nearly dug her own grave when the hole collapsed around her. This time, however, I was at the other end of her vine and I dragged her out to safety.

But she could never be complacent. Tending to the chickens, pigs, and other farm animals the box had sent up with her only made her impatient and bored. Every day I had to talk her away from the maze. It was too dangerous and too unknown. I had her listen to the mechanical shrieks and scraping sounds that sounded from the other side during night. She only grew more curious.

She took a drill from the supplies we had and sat down at the portion of the wall that acted as doors into the maze.

"You're insane," I said, watching as she stubbornly began drilling away at the edge of the wall that split open. She didn't reply back, too immersed in her work to even realize I was speaking to her.

Through five nights and five days I watched her work. I brought her food and water, and even bothered to take a few shifts drilling away at the wall so she could get some rest. The wall itself was about twenty feet thick, and when she had drilled far enough to only be able to work when the doors were open she grew more eager. I made sure that she was safely on my side of the wall whenever it was time for the walls to close.

On the fifth day I awoke from a nudge at my side. Joan appeared before me; dirty and smelly. I scrunched up my nose in disgust.

"You really need to take a bath."

"Forget that," she said excitedly, dropping the drill in her hands. "It's done."

I looked up at the wall besides me. A thick line traced all the way from the Meadow end of the wall, to the maze.

"It's a peephole," said Joan, marveling at her own work. "With this, we can see what's up in here at night. And if you know that," she looked at me, "You won't be so scared to go in."

"I'm not scared," I said with a glare, "I just don't have a death wish."

We walked back into the Meadow and waited until sundown, when the doors closed.

Joan smacked herself in the face.

"God—I'm so stupid! It's too damn dark to see inside at night!" she shouted, clutching at her hair. "Ugh…" she collapsed onto the ground.

The next day, before sundown, we lit the vines next to the door on fire. The fire steadily rose and spread into the maze. It was lit up exceptionally as we watched the doors close.

This time, we were ready.

Joan waited fervently at the peephole. She kept her eye pressed up against the wall.

The mechanical screeches once again sounded. I tensed up and looked to Joan. She bit her lip in anticipation.

"Something's moving," she said, pressing closer. "I see—I see the vines moving. Something's covering them with…water? It's kind of…gooey. It's extinguishing the flames…"

Her voice trailed off.

"What? What is it?"

"I don't even know," said Joan. "It's like a creepy lovechild between a giant slug and a giant mechanical spider. Definitely a demon."

Her jokes masked her fear. I took my turn at the peephole when she was finally able to tear herself away.

I couldn't suppress my fear nearly as well as she had. My breathing hitched. I felt beads of sweat forming at my brow.

'Demon' was correct. Even though the fire was dying down, I could see how gigantic and terrifying it was. Opaque slime covered a spine of metal and gears. Rods jutted out from the goop to form insect-like legs, and a long metallic tail, complete with what could only be a stinger, thrashed out wildly from the end. It was a monster. A real life demon.

And it wasn't alone. Two others had joined it to put out the fire. Gelatinous liquid sprayed out from the giant spiked holes I took for mouths.

The last of the flames were extinguished, and I retracted from the wall. I was breathing hard, and I covered my mouth with my hand.

"Well, now we know," said Joan, leaning against the wall.

"You still want to go in there?" I asked in disbelief. I could barely hold back my vomit. It wasn't every day you saw an actual nightmare come to life.

"There has to be a way out," she said. "They wouldn't just make demons to be giant fire extinguishers. There's a purpose for them as much as there is a purpose for us. That maze has to be some sort of test, and those things have to be the hurdles." Joan clenched her fists. "Mazes are meant to be solved, and if there's no answer for us in here, there must be one out there."

"What's out there is danger," I said, poker face resurfacing. "Those things can clearly kill us."

"They've never come out during the day."

"And they could just as easily be laying in wait once you get deep enough. You could die."

"Just as well!" She pounded a fist against the wall, "We're dead in here anyways!"

"I think we're doing just fine." I got up from the ground and picked the remnants of dinner around us.

"No, we're not!" she shouted, knocking the makeshift plates out of my hand. "No matter how much you try and how much you plan, we're not fine! This isn't a life!"

"You don't need t-"

"Don't you care at all?"

For once, I heard an unusual bitterness in her voice.

"Don't you care about who you were?" She smiled, but it wasn't a happy one. "We have all these memories of the same world, but none about our families or friends. Don't you care if any of it is even real?" She put a hand to her chest. "Are we even real? As far as we know, we could have been made just like those monsters."

I stepped closer to her and covered her hand with my own.

"Joan, we are real."

"How do you know that?" she asked, grimacing as if to cry but without tears. "How do you know anything? You didn't get any answers while you were here alone, and we haven't found anything since I've been here. I'm tired of waiting around for some savior to find us."

Her eyes made contact with mine.

"I'm going in there tomorrow."

I gripped her hand tighter.

"Okay."


The first trip into the maze didn't uncover any secrets. I held my breath every time we turned a corner and let out a sigh of relief when nothing jumped out to attack us. The only thing greeting us at every turn was another wall covered in vines. The maze seemed to be endless.

I had taken a bucket of red paint (a remnant of the unused art supplies that I had found when I had first arrived at the Meadow) diluted with water. It was thick enough to leave a stain on the ground, and I marked our path with drops as we walked further into the maze.

I made sure we made it back to the Meadow hours before the doors closed. Yes, I was allowing us to go inside; but that didn't mean I was going to be foolish about it.

It was day 27 since Joan had been sent here. We had started exploring the maze on day 23. Within that small amount of time we deduced a few things.

One, the maze changed every night. The walls shuffled around like giant dominos, and I marked as many as I could with different symbols to observe where they ended up.

Two, the Demons never came out during the day. The peephole confirmed that the Demons were present in the maze every night, but we never saw a single mechanical tendril amongst the vines in daylight.

Third, and probably the most upsetting, was that the maze was very large, and very much endless. Most of the time we'd just hit dead ends. Several times we ended up back at the doors leading to the Meadow. Neither of us expected to find a neon lit sign directing us to the nearest exit, but we also didn't expect to find absolutely nothing.

"I think we have to go in at night," said Joan, wiping the sweat from her brow. We had just returned from the day's trip into the maze. The sun began to set above us.

"No," I said firmly, shaking my head.

"That has to be the test," she continued, staring back into the maze. "A test wouldn't be easy. They want us to go in there and—I don't know, fight those things?! Maybe one of them has like, like…" She grabbed her hair in frustration. "Like a trigger, or a button, or something! The maze and the Demons have to be there for a reason. This is a test."

"That's insane!"

"Maybe they're testing our sanity!" she shouted, pulling up grass with her fists. "Maybe if we fight them, and we win, we get to leave!"

"Joan, stop." I grabbed her face with my hands and stared into her eyes. "That's not the answer."

The doors began to close in front of us.

"Then what is?"

Before I could reply my breath was violently knocked out of me as a solid punch landed directly at the center of my stomach. I couldn't even scream. I hunched over Joan's arms, and she gently laid me down on the ground. I grabbed her wrist.

"W-What…" I gasped, nails digging into her skin.

"You can't follow me."

Joan shook off my grip with ease and walked towards the closing walls. She only had her knife with her.

I reached out for her.

"Joan!"

She crossed over into the maze, looking back only when the doors were almost shut.

"I need to find an answer."


When I could finally gather enough air in my lungs to scream it was too late. She was gone, and the doors were sealed shut. Calling her name and scraping at the wall was useless. There was no sign of her at the entrance of the maze even if I strained my eyes through the peephole to the extent of their visual capabilities.

I could only wait. I waited by the wall all night. I didn't have the peace of mind to fall asleep. My ears strained for any sound that could signal her situation, but I couldn't hear anything beyond the mechanical scraping of the Demons.

The sun eventually rose into the sky, signaling morning, and my body straightened up as I felt the walls begin to split behind me. I rushed myself inside, scraping my arms against the harsh concrete.

Joan was nowhere in sight.

I ran forward, following one of the many paths marked on the ground. We hadn't even deciphered the maze yet, but somehow I hoped to run into her.

I looked down at the faded drops of paint that marked one of our endless trips into the maze. The diluted drops of red steadily became darker, and fresher, until I realized that I wasn't following drops of paint any more. I pushed my pace even faster as the drops of blood in front of me became thicker and turned into steady trails.

Her body finally came into the view at the end of the dirty path. She was crumpled on the ground, covered in ivy. The streaks on the floor showed that she had dragged herself part of the way there. She no longer had a knife in her hands.

I screamed her name, but she was out cold. Blood was dripping profusely from a deep gash in her stomach, and her veins had all become visible on the surface; a sickly blue that crawled across her skin like lightning.

I heaved her body over my shoulders and trembled as my mind wandered to the worst expected outcome. She didn't stir a single bit as I dragged her back to the Meadow, but at the very least I could feel a haggard stream of breaths escaping through her lips.

"Joan, please…" I whispered.

It took almost an hour to get her back into the Meadow. I dragged her to the lake and washed out the wound in her stomach. She had been stabbed several times, probably by the nasty stinger attached to one of the Demons. The wound was the source of the blue veins.

It seemed to be some sort of injection. A foreign substance was running through her body. I wasn't a doctor, and I had little knowledge on science; the only thing I could think of to do was bandage her up.

Her lips were cracked and dry. There were blood stains all over her clothes. She wasn't dead, but she definitely wasn't getting any closer to being healthy and alive.

"Joan, please…" I said in a whisper, holding her face in my hands and touching her forehead against mine. "Don't die. Please don't die."

I clutched her tighter.

"God damn it, don't die!"

After what felt like an eternity I felt movement in my arms. She was regaining consciousness.

"Joan…?"

Her hands moved up to her head. She grabbed her hair and started to groan. I moved to help her sit up.

But in seconds I was pinned to the ground. Joan was screaming over me, shouting jumbled words and phrases. She wasn't coherent at all; her screams sounded more like roaring than it did words.

I shoved her back. Luckily, her wound was toning down her strength, because in any normal fight Joan would have had me cornered.

She quickly recovered her ground, moving in a way that seemed almost beastly. I grabbed the knife at my waist and pointed it at her.

"Joan, stop," I said, pleading. "What's wrong with you?"

"We're dead. We're dead," she muttered, continuing to pull on her hair. "We're dead. There's nothing." Her eyes turned to me. They were bloodshot.

This time, I was prepared. She lunged at me and I grabbed her by the forearms. I spun her behind me and pushed her down into the lake. As she flailed in the water, I grabbed the bucket nearby and swung it as hard as I could as she resurfaced. With a loud, hollowed sound, I struck her in the temple, and she fell heavily back into the lake.

Day 27 since Joan's arrival. Day 57 since mine. I thought we were going to be fine, but now we were the farthest from 'fine' than we had ever been.

I dragged Joan's unconscious body to the sturdiest tree I could find and tied her securely to the trunk with several vines we had been using as ropes.

Then I collapsed on the ground in front of her.

What had happened? Why was Joan like this? I was so tired of asking questions, and I was so tired of not getting any answers. I didn't want to be alone again, but I didn't know how long it'd be until Joan would return to normal—if she even could.

I was so tired. My mind was numb, and the grass was soft. I welcomed the blankness that sleep brought as I dozed off.

Day 28. I sat across from Joan as she screamed at me, squirming to free herself from her binds so she could attack me. From morning to night, I watched her. I wondered how she could want to hurt me so badly. I wondered where she had gone, because she definitely wasn't here with me now.

Day 29. I talked to her even though I knew it was pointless.

I was depleted of emotions. I stared at her from my position on the ground. I hadn't eaten, or done anything for that matter. I talked to her from whenever I had bothered to wake up, until it became dark again. Dark clouds hung low in the sky overhead.

"What happened in there?" I asked.

"We're dead!" she roared back repeatedly. "No use! No point! We're gonna die! There's nothing! Nothing, nothing, nothing!"

"Did a Demon sting you?"

"We're dead!"

"Who's dead?"

"No use!"

"Do you know who I am?"

"There's nothing!"

"Do you know who you are?"

"Nothing!"

I think I knew, in the back of my mind, that the vines were coming undone. I think I knew that soon she would break free. She could attack me, and maybe we would both die.

But I think I knew that I didn't have enough of a grasp on my common sense anymore to care. I had my knife with me, but I knew I would never be able to hurt her with it.

I heard her screaming. I heard the vines snap as she pulled with all her might; ripping, tearing, even biting the plants away. I watched her approach me in some kind of terrifying anger I didn't deserve. An anger that wasn't really aimed at me, but that I was going to accept.

She threw herself at me, and I let her. I was done caring. I closed my eyes.

My skin was bruising and my mouth was bleeding. It hurt, but my mind wasn't registering it. I was going numb.

"HARRIET!"

I opened my eyes. Joan was standing in front of me, pulling at her face with her hands. She kept screaming and shaking her head.

My heart began to beat faster. Had she come back? Was she better now? The brief moment of realization was enough to force the gears in my head start turning again.

Her hands moved away and her eyes were still bloodshot. She lunged at me again.

But this time I did not fall. I held my ground.

Joan wouldn't want me to die. I had to live; or at the very least, try.

I forced her back, trying to push her towards the trees where I could find something to strike her with. A rock, a branch—anything to make her unconscious.

Her temporarily lapse had somehow caused her to become more furious. Though I put all my strength into pushing her back, she got her hands out of my grip and spun us around, pinning me against the tree instead. Her fingers crushed into my neck.

I gasped for air, clawing at her arms for release.

"Joan!" I gasped. "Let go!" I began to see white spots behind my eyelids every time I blinked.

In a moment I saw her mind come back to her. Fingers left my neck. Joan was with me again; but not for long. Her eyes were screaming. She clutched at her throat, trying to form words. Unable to convey a message, her fingers wandered. Her eyes darted to the knife at my waist.

Before I could register her course of action, it was already done.

She stopped moving. My knife was in her hands, and her hands were at her chest. Blood was seeping quickly out of her body; her shirt was already soaked through. She fell to her knees.

With whatever minimal strength she had left, she looked up at me from the ground.

"Harriet," she said, that radiant smile of hers showing through even beyond the blood and the grime. "Harriet, please. Take care of the rest." She was different now. There was a knowledge behind her words that was foreign to me.

I should have said comforting words to her. My thoughts screamed at me, telling me to open my stupid mouth and say something. But where words lacked, the tears filled. It was now, too many moments after her last words, that I realized what was happening.

There was rain. The world was crying; because I was crying. My world was dead. Joan was dead. All the courage I had gained to live in that brief moment when she had said my name was now gone.

There wasn't a proper burial. There wasn't a proper funeral. There wasn't even a proper casket. There was nothing in that godforsaken box that could conjure up the majestic procession she deserved. There was only me with my bleeding, broken hands and the dirt beneath tired, weary feet.

After I had dug a large enough ditch, I dragged her bruised and bloodied body into it. The hole was already filling up with both the rain and my tears.

I sat at the edge of the ditch, looking down at her lifeless body. Joan's face and mind showed a state of peace and calm I desperately wanted for myself.

I contemplated throwing myself into that ditch with her. I could easily let the rain cover me. Drown me into a state of happy nothingness.

We stood around the small garden. I shoveled away at the soft dirt, making a hole for the sapling we had uprooted from the forest. We thought it'd be a nice marker for the garden.

"Are you gonna help?" I asked.

Joan ignored me and rest her hands on her shovel, which wasn't picking up dirt.

"You know, it's been almost three weeks since I've been here," she said, looking out at the Meadow. "Do you think someone else is going to come up in that box?"

"I hope so," I retorted. "That'll give me someone else to talk to besides your dumb ass."

Joan kicked some dirt into the hole I was digging.

"Hey!"

She laughed and held her shovel up high.

"Here's hoping we get a new friend! Not that I'd wish this life on anyone, but I could do with another face up here besides yours."

It was still day 29. Tomorrow would be day 30 since Joan had been sent here. If another person were to be sent here…

"Take care of the rest."

I scooped up a handful of soggy dirt and tossed it into the hole that held in it all my happiness and hopes.

"If no one comes up tomorrow, I'll join you," I said, biting my lip as tears came down in even larger torrents. I continued to cover up her body with dirt. "If someone does come…."

I dragged over the sapling we had never planted; one of our many thoughts for the future. I laid it on top of the spot where Joan lay and patted it firmly into the ground.

"I'll take care of them."