Minho left us?

What the shuck?

He was supposed to be the big tough guy. He broke down and ran off...like a baby.

But gosh, I was thirsty. My mouth was as dry as a desert. I licked my - also - dry lips. Then I touched my forehead, which was like an oven. There were small beads of sweat trickling down, like a glass of water sweating, creating a ring of water on the table when the glass was picked up. I looked over to Thomas, who also had a similar face of anger on. This brows were knitted together.

The noises grew louder, echoing off the walls like a ball and a paddle. The roar of engines interspersed with rolling, cranking sounds like chains hoisting machinery in an old, grimy factory. And then came the smell - something burning, oily. That was when the facts hit me. What would be in store for me - for Thomas and I? Humans weren't supposed to fight these things, were they?

If Minho acted the way he did, being almost like a God in here, how were Thomas and I supposed to fair well? We were just Newbies, but were casually running around in the Maze - at night. How long could we possible last before getting pricked to pieces?

"A girl came today while you were running."

That got my attention and easily snapped me out of my dreams. I walked over to where Thomas was, dropping my head to the side. It was like the situation we were in completely changed because of this news.

"Huh?"

Thomas looked at me. "Another girl," he repeated. "With long, black hair. And eyes like diamonds."

Something sparked in my brain. A light turned on. Teresa.

Why could I remember that?

"Great," I mumbled.

Thomas stopped the semi-normal conversation we were having and turned to face Alby, still propped against the stone wall, now only a mound of shadow in the darkness. Kneeling on the ground, Thomas found Alby's neck, then searched for a pulse. He listened at his chest like Minho had done.

"Pulse?" I asked.

He nodded, rocking back on his heels, then ran his arm across his forehead, wiping away the sweat.

Still alive. Alby was still alive and we had to do something about it. Alby was alive and Minho left.

"Holy klunk," I yelled, then cupped a hand over my mouth. "W-we have to do something."

Thomas reached down and grabbed both of Alby's arms, then squatted into a sitting position and wrapped the arms around his neck from behind. He pulled the lifeless body onto his back and pushed with his legs, grunting with the effort.

But it was too much. Thomas collapsed forward onto his face; Alby sprawled to the side with a loud flump. I ran forward and tried to help but to no avail.

The frightening sounds of the Grievers grew closer by the second, echoing off the stone walls of the Maze. I quickly turned around, looking down the hallways that I'd be running down soon with a unconscious person on my back. Deep in my bones, it was like I could see the bright flashes of light, shining off the sky and walls. It very well could have just been me over reacting, but I didn't think so.

Gosh, what were we getting our self into?

Trying a new approach, he grabbed Alby's arms again and started dragging him along the ground. Alby looked really heavy by the way Thomas was failing to pull the older boy across the floor. He only made it about ten feet when I released his grip on the leader.

"That's not gonna work, either," I said. "Where would you take him, anyway?"

We then pushed and pulled Alby back over to the crack that marked the entrance to the Glade, and propped him once more into a sitting position, leaning against the stone wall.

Thomas sat back against it himself, panting from exertion, clearly thinking.

I was still standing, leaning with my back on the wall. I licked my dry lips again, sniffling my nose. My bloody pack with my water was missing.

Wonderful, ain't it?

I watched Thomas look forward, into the darkness of the Maze. The sun was already seeming to fall behind the tall, Maze walls.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked, licking my lips again.

"Ivy."

Thomas walked a few feet along the wall until he found a thick growth of ivy covering most of the stone. He reached down and grabbed one of the vines that went all the way to the ground and wrapped his hand around it. It looked thicker and more solid as I watched him get a grip, maybe a half-inch in diameter. He pulled on it, and with the sound of thick paper ripping apart, the vine came unattached from the wall - more and more as Thomas stepped away from it. He moved back ten feet, and I walked up, standing next to him, hands on hips. I, nor Thomas, could no longer see the end of the vine way above; it disappeared in the darkness. But the trailing plant had yet to fall free, so we knew it was still attached up there somewhere.

Hesitant to try, Thomas steeled himself and pulled on the vine of ivy with all his strength.

It held.

He yanked on it again. Then again, pulling and relaxing with both hands over and over. Then he lifted his feet and hung onto the vine; his body swung forward.

The vine held.

Quickly, Thomas grabbed other vines, ripping them away from the wall, creating a series of climbing ropes. He tested each one, and they all proved to be as strong as the first. Encouraged, he went back to Alby and dragged him over to the vines.

"Brilliant," I said. "This is a brilliant idea."

"Don't thank me yet."

A sharp crack echoed from within the Maze, followed by the horrible sound of crumpling metal. I twisted around and looked into the other hallways, the sinking feeling that something was going to pop out of no-where crawling through my body. Thomas swung around to look, as well. Seems as if we were both concentrated on the vines that we momentarily shut out the Grievers.

"I'll check, just in case," I whispered, walking to where the Maze branched off.

I slowly walked over, then peeked around the corner. couldn't see anything coming, but the sounds were louder - the whirring, the groaning, the clanging. And the air had brightened ever so slightly; I could make out more of the details of the Maze than I'd been able to just minutes before.

Memories of days before flooded into my mind; when Newt showed me behind the Homestead. The lights and flashes. The Grievers were close.

But, thank God, the hallways were clear.

I turned back to find Alby's four limps tied up a few times with the thick, green ivy.

"What about his circulation?" I asked.

"It's worth the risk, though," Thomas replied. "Now, come here so I can tell you what to do."

I ran over and listened. We were going to pull a vine together to bring Alby up higher by the wall. I was in the front and gripped the vine with both hands, steading my feet.

"Here goes nothing," I mumbled and we began to pull.

Slowly, Alby started to climb up the walls. He was heavier than I thought he'd be. I could feel Thomas's breath on my neck, thick and hot. Pulling on the ivy, I bent my torso and wiped my forehead on my sleeve. Gosh, it was hot. But Alby was getting to - somewhat - safety. Over and over, little by little, he went up. The effort was exhausting; I heaved in every breath, felt sweat cover every inch of my skin. My hands began to slip and slide on the vines ever so slightly. My feet ached from pressing into the stone cracks.

I could tell that Thomas felt the same exact way. The sounds grew louder - the awful, awful sounds. Still we worked. Alby was a bit farther than halfway up when Thomas told me to let go. I hesitated before letting go.

Thomas grunted as he flung forward, his feet slamming into the wall. Alby dropped a solid foot or so, but he was still up pretty high. The Grievers at least seemed to be moving slowly through the Maze, giving him time. Thomas went under the vines with the few that were tied to Alby in his hands. He crouched down and went out of view for a few seconds before he returned, empty hands.

"Our turn," he muttered, tugging on the ivy.

We tied ivy around are waist and under our arms, then began to climb up. I licked my lips too many times to count. It was getting hotter by the second, it seemed. My hands were getting red, aching from grabbing the ivy. Every breath was more of a huff, clinging on to the last drop of air entering my lungs. This was a new level of tired.

I grabbed hold of a few more vines and tied them around my wrists. Then I tried to push myself back, towards the wall, in an attempt to hide my body. I licked my lips again and gulped swallowed the air.

This was where we'd hide. Or make our stand.

It was pretty clear that we were never going to make it up to the top. Alby was just too heavy and we were too tired. I just hoped that the Grievers couldn't or wouldn't look up, to us. Maybe, if they did, we could fight them off, one by one, instead of being overwhelmed as we ran on the ground. I had no idea what to expect; either did Thomas. We were just Newbies. We didn't know if we'd see tomorrow. But here, hanging in the ivy, Thomas and I met out fate.

I watched Thomas to get my mind off of things. Like the girl. What in the world was she here for? Did it have something to do with...the note? I was brought out of my thoughts when Thomas whispered, although it sounded like a yell in the quietness of the Maze.

"What the hell is that?"

I didn't know what it was. The first glimmer of light shine off the Maze walls up ahead. The terrible sounds we both heard escalate for the last hour took on a high-pitched, mechanical squeal, like a robotic death yell.

A red light to Thomas's left, on the wall, caught his attention, which then caught mine. It was what he was talking about initially. He turned and almost screamed out loud - a beetle blade was only a few inches from him, its spindly legs poking through the ivy and somehow sticking to the stone. The red light of its eye was like a little sun, too bright to look at directly. Thomas squinted and tried to focus on the beetle's body.

The torso was a silver cylinder, maybe three inches in diameter and ten inches long. Twelve jointed legs ran along the length of its bottom, spread out, making the thing look like a sleeping lizard. The head was impossible to see because of the red beam of light shining right at Thomas, though it seemed small, vision its only purpose, perhaps.

But then I saw the most chilling part. The red light from its eye cast a creepy glow on six capital letters smeared across the torso, as if they had been written with blood:

WICKED

...The Creators.

"WICKED?" Thomas whispered. "Like, evil wicked?"

I knew it had to be a spy for whoever had sent me - and everyone else - here - I was told that before, saying the beetles were how the Creators watched them.

Thomas kept his eyes on the Beetle, holding his breath. Maybe it only detected movement? I did the same, my lungs now screaming for air.

With a click and then a clack, the beetle turned and scuttled off, disappearing into the ivy. I sucked in a huge gulp of air, trying to also get hydrated, then another fresh breath, feeling the pinch of the vines tied around my chest and wrist.

Another mechanical squeal screeched through the Maze, close now, followed by the surge of revved machinery. Thomas and I tried to imitate Alby's lifeless body, hanging limp in the vines.

And then something rounded the corner up ahead, and came toward us.

Something we'd seen before, but through the safety of thick glass.

Something unspeakable.

A Griever.