I'm back! With another chapter! I'm going to try and update at least every two weeks now that classes are in full swing. Enjoy!
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Dawn was coming. Everyone stayed in hiding until the sun peaked over the Maze walls. It was eerily quiet, as if even the morning birds were afraid to sing.
All of the Gladers stayed huddled in the corner. Some of the younger boys fell into reluctant sleep while the older kids remained wide awake, listening for any sign of the Grievers. Crouching among her friends, Marie was sore all over. Her legs were stiff, bruised, and covered in scratches. Her arms looked the same. There was a distinct throbbing in her right ankle, but she ignored it. There were more pressing matters at hand.
At the first sign of daylight, Thomas peeked out the door, checking to see if it was safe. Marie watched him carefully as he turned to the Gladers and nodded stiffly. Newt stood, wincing as he put weight on his bad leg. He pulled Marie up with him and held her hand as they followed Thomas out into the open.
The Glade was in ruins. As daylight spilled into the area, the damage was revealed and it was devastating. Large patches of grass were scortched black, fires still littered the ground, and there was debris everywhere. Buildings were destroyed either completely or partially. The only building still standing was the concrete Map Room, and even then there was smoke coming from its open doors. Marie felt like there wasn't enough air to fill her lungs.
"You son of a bitch!" Gally roared. He was walking towards Thomas, eyes blown wide with anger.
She had never seen him filled with such rage, face scarlet, cheeks puffed out, obscenities spilling from his mouth. Marie decided to help the situation in the most obvious way.
She quickly dodged out of Gally's path.
Gally's fist made a striking sound against Thomas' face when he struck him. Newt and Winston rushed to divide the two, pushing and pulling Gally away from Thomas' kneeling form.
"Take it easy, Gally!"
"Gally, stop!"
"Look around!" Gally screamed, struggling in their grip, "Look at what you've done!"
Thomas stared up at him from the ground, eyes wide and startled. His eyes were glassy, as though he might cry. Teresa moved to go to him, but Marie stopped her.
"This is all your fault!" Gally's voice was hoarse and broken. He still struggled against Newt and Winston, trying to break free.
Teresa left Marie to help Thomas up. He remained crouched on the ground, but looked up at her when she stood next to him.
"Marie!" Minho exclaimed, walking over to her. He pulled her close and hugged her tightly. Minho looked over her, checking for any severe injuries.
"Minho," She sighed, relieved. There was something comforting about being near him. He was familiar, something the Glade wasn't after all that had happened.
Minho kept his hand on her arm as Newt approached them. "I've never seen him so angry," Newt muttered, glancing over at Gally. The older boy was still huffing, but his face had returned to its natural color and he was no longer struggling against his friends. "Then again, I've never seen anything like this happen before."
Marie felt her gut drop. Everything was going to be different. The Grievers had never attacked them like that, all at once. Even the way the Grievers behaved was strange...they had seemed more aggressive, determined to kill as many Gladers as they could. And the doors...in the three years she'd been there, Marie couldn't recall one time when those doors didn't close. They always closed right before sunset, everyday like clockwork. It was common knowledge among the Keepers that whoever sent the supplies and Greenies also controlled the Maze. Marie's head was spinning as she worked things out in her mind. First the Creators stopped sending supplies, then the doors remain open overnight...Perhaps the Creators were mad at them? Or maybe something happened to the Creators and they weren't able to close the doors. Could the Maze have been broken?
"Something happened," Marie said, turning her head to look at the still open doors, "there's no reason the doors would stay open unless something happened to the creators."
Minho ran a hand through his hair. "What matters is that we're okay. For now, anyway."
Just after the words left his mouth, a scream erupted among the Gladers. "Thomas!"
Teresa was screaming his name, over and over again. The boy in question was lying on the ground, body convulsing and jerking violently. His eyes had rolled back and closed, spit coming from his mouth. His limbs were curling inward, muscles contracting rapidly. Everyone started crowding the pair until Gally, Newt, Marie, and Minho pushed past them. Marie spotted a Griever's stinger lying nearby. Her mouth went dry. Teresa was crying, sobbing out something about Thomas stabbing himself with the stinger.
"Quick, someone grab a serum!" Newt shouted, falling to his knees next to Thomas. He tried in vain to hold Thomas still, but the boy continued to shake violently. Some of the boys took off in the direction of the fallen homestead, while others started looking around the area in case one was lying in the grass. Teresa frantically searched her pockets until she pulled out a single glass serum. Marie watched as her brother stabbed Thomas in the arm with it, watched the way Thomas instantly became limp. Her gaze moved from them to Gally, who was standing there across from her. His eyes were downcast, watching the Medjacks rush to Thomas' aid. Lips pursed in a firm frown, Gally looked...disappointed.
"Gally," Marie said, quietly, but he heard. His eyes met hers from across the circle.
He seemed to hesitate. "...Coward tried to take the easy way out," Gally spat, angrily. Newt visibly stiffened at the jab, clenching his jaw.
That was it. Marie felt anger bubble up in her stomach, up her throat. She felt her face get hot. Why was he being like that? Why would he say that? Why were the creators so mad at them? What had they done to be slaughtered, to be sacrificed? They were kids. They were scared. Not once had Marie ever questioned it, but now she was angry. At Gally for being so hateful. At the Grievers for attacking them. At the Creators for being so cruel. At herself for being so helpless. All of that anger pushed up in her chest, clawing a way out, a way to vent her frustrations, and it gave her the strength to run across the circle, past Newt and Teresa and Thomas and Minho.
Gally wasn't prepared for Marie to bodyslam him the way she did. He fell back, landing square on his back, arms flailing as he tried to defend himself. Marie punched him once-it felt good, so she did it again. Again and again, she gave hit after hit until her arms began to tire. Gally grabbed her wrist, ready to scream his frustrations at her. He stopped when he felt drops hit his face. Marie wasn't sobbing, no. She was blinking tears from her eyes, breathing hard. Gally stared at her with wide eyes.
"Gally," She breathed out, "Shut your shuckin' mouth!"
"Marie!" Newt pulled her off of Gally. Gally continued to lay on the ground, staring up at the sky until one of his friends helped him up.
Marie hastily wiped the tears from her face. Newt reached over and pulled her close, hugging her tightly. "It's alright," he muttered, "it's alright."
No one commented on the scene. It all seemed so surreal, and after all, Gally had deserved it. Newt began sending out orders among the Keepers, delegating the Gladers to different areas of search and rescue. He needed to know who and how many were missing.
Some of the Gladers helped carry Thomas onto a maskeshift stretcher. Everyone was working together to help the injured- even the younger boys. Marie was trying to help one boy, about twelve years old. His leg was obviously broken, but Marie knew she couldn't carry him with her leg throbbing the way it was.
"Dan's got it," Minho said, jogging up to them. As if Minho had summoned him out of nowhere, Dan came running over. As he began to work with the young boy, Minho turned to Marie. "Let's get your ankle checked out."
"I'm fine," She insisted.
Minho smiled a little, glancing at the ground before meeting her gaze. "You can say that all you want on the way to the homestead." He turned around and knelt down on the ground. After a few minutes of sitting there, he looked over his shoulder at her, expectantly.
Marie laughed a little. "What are you doing?"
"Offering you a piggy back ride, duh," He said, as if it were obvious.
"Minho, I'm not- no-" She shook her head, feeling her face heat up. She was not about to ride on his back like a child. "I'm not doing that."
"Fine, then. I guess I'm just going to squat here then," the Keeper shrugged, bouncing on his heels.
She laughed, "Fine, then. Have fun!"
Marie started walking around Minho. If he wanted to sit there all night, he could. She had work to do. Just as she walked past him, his arms shot out, scooping her up over his shoulder. Marie shrieked as her feet were were swept out from under her. The world turned upside down.
"Minho, put me down! Right this bloody second!" She yelled, pounding her fists against his back.
He pinched her leg and she shrieked again. "Quit your howlin'. You can't walk on that ankle," Minho insisted.
"I can, too! You just want to grab me."
"Trust me, if that were the case, we'd be in a more private place. Unless you're into that-"
"Minho!" His laugh resounded throughout the Glade.
Marie eventually gave up and let him tote her across the Glade. Some of the other kids were watching, a few laughing and smiling. While Marie was happy that the others were cheering up at her expense, she felt embarrassed at Minho's manhandling. Heat crawled up her face, and it was not because the blood wss rushing to her head. Everyone was no doubt staring at her and Minho. She was thankful her shorts went down to her mid-thigh.
Finally, Minho set her down on a tree stump. He had carried her to the destroyed Homestead, where Clint and Jeff were scurrying around salvaging what supplies they could. Marie kept her gaze to the ground. She felt exhausted; The adrenaline that had been gushing through her just hours earlier was completely gone, leaving exhaustion in its wake. She rubbed her eyes as Minho returned carrying two buckets, one empty and one full of water, and a rag.
"Clint said to just elevate your leg and he'll come take a look at it when he gets done," Minho said, kneeling in front of her. He gently took her leg and set in on the upside down empty bucket. Then he turned his attention to the cuts and scratches on her legs.
Marie watched him as he soaked the rag and wrung it out. Minho was, for the most part, relatively unscathed aside from some brusing and a few burns here and there. The cold water stung a little as Minho cleaned the dirt from her wounds. She winced and he muttered an apology, concentrating on her leg with an intense focus. Marie thought back to how he carried her across the Glade and she looked away from him.
As a Keeper and Runner, she had always been close with Minho. There had been many a time when she had come to his rescue in the Maze, and vise versa. Him carrying her the way he did shouldn't make her feel so shy...Right? Minho's hand laid on her calf and she jumped.
"...I'm glad you're okay," he muttered, his hands slowing until he was simply holding her leg in his lap. Minho finally looked up at her and Marie fought the urge to look away. Something about the way he looked at her was making her nervous.
She laughed a little, smiling. "I'm glad, too. That you're okay, I mean. I mean I just," Her face began to get hot. Why was she so flustered? It was only Minho. Marie covered her face with her hands. "Let me try that again!"
Minho reached up and gently took her hands away from her face. When her hands were moved out of the way, she saw that he had his crooked smirk. "Getting all flustered over little ol' me?"
"Of course not," She snorted, gathering her bearings. "I'm just still jumpy from last night."
He smacked her leg playfully, smiling. The conversation dropped there for the moment. He went back to cleaning her leg and she watched the Gladers try to piece together what little of their old life they had left. Eventually, he was finished with both legs and he set her uninjured leg on the ground. Marie half excepted him to stand and leave, but he stayed crouched where he was.
"Seems like the only time we get alone is when one of us is hurt," he said, chuckling.
"Maybe we should hurt ourselves more often," Marie said. She was trying to be playful and flirty like he was, but a part of her regretted saying something so embarrassing. Minho grinned up at her and his hand rested on her knee.
"Don't make promises you can't keep," he challenged. Marie opened her mouth to protest when Clint walked over. Minho moved out of the way, although a bit reluctantly. Minho felt his chest swell a little, seeing Marie in such a state. Of course, he had been looking at her all morning, but now that he had nothing to do, he could really take a few moments to actually see her. Her face was smeared in dirt and blood, scratches all over her arms and legs. Her hair was tangled and matted with mud and ash. Marie winced as Clint carefully turned her ankle back and forth.
"It doesn't look like it's sprained, you must have just twisted it," Clint mumbled. Marie could tell he was distracted- there were plenty of other hurt Gladers to attend to, some with worse injuries. She moved her leg and set her foot on the ground, stretching it out.
Marie eventually sent Clint away with the promise of her help with the wounded. She was about to follow him when Minho grabbed her hand. Marie frowned when he started to pull her in the opposite direction. He kept his back to her as they walked through the wreckage. It was odd, feeling his calloused hand against hers. Marie felt her fatigue fade as excitement boiled in her stomach.
"Minho, where are we going?" She asked as they entered the woods.
Minho looked back at her as they slowed to a stop. He seemed to hesitate a little, a small smile making it's way slowly across his face.
"I figured maybe we could use some more time alone."