Muffled noise drowns out in the back of my mind. Each second passes as time stretches on and on, but nothing changes. The doors remain shut. They are not coming back; no-one survives a night in the Maze.
Questions buzz through my mind. Why didn't Alby and Minho make it back in time? What happens now that Alby is gone? Why did Thomas run to them, knowing the doors would shut behind him?
A Griever's haunting scream booms across the Maze, echoing through the Glade. A cold chill wriggles down my spine. Dread fills my mind. How long do they have left, one hour, maybe two before a Griever gets to them?
The thought of Newt and the letter lurks deep within my brain but now is not the time.
"Tanya?" Chuck's voice emerges from behind me.
Peeling my eyes from the Maze doors, I turn to face him. A dim flame casts a poor light on his face, a tear welling in his eye. "Do you think, maybe...they'll be okay?"
I gulp down a lump in my throat, biting back the sadness welling in my chest. "I hope so."
Ruffling his hair, I continue. "Just hang in there Chuck."
Chuck nods, his face is dreary and red. Wiping a line of snot from his nose, Chuck turns to leave. "Oh, um, I think there's another leader gathering. Newt asked me to get you."
"Okay," I respond, forcing a hint of optimism in my voice. Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath filling my lungs before turning to the Homestead. Each step weighs me down heavier than the last. The pain in my side wanes but remains noticeable.
As I approach the Homestead, a throng of Gladers gather outside the door, squabbling amongst themselves. The babbling goes through one ear and out the other as their words blend. Breaking through the crowd, I push past into the Homestead.
Continuing down the hallway, the door slams shut behind me. Soft voices echo through the hall, a sharp contrast to those from outside. The voices grow louder as I draw near to the Council as Alby calls...called it. With a gentle push, the door swings open.
Sunlight floods in from above, lighting the vast volume of the room. Wind sweeps in from an open window across from the entrance. An impending platform rises from the ground with a circle of evenly-spaced chairs around it. A carved chair, larger than the others, sits in the centre of the chairs, empty.
Newt, along with Frypan and Winston, lingers in the middle of the room. As I enter, their voices simmer to a stop. Newt nods in my direction as I close the door, his face grim. Winston folds his arms, shuffling further to the window.
A glint of sadness flashes through Newt's face, suddenly masked by a reassuring nod as Frypan babbles beside him, his words growing louder as I approach, "...and maybe we could have a-"
His voice cuts short as the door bursts open, crashing against the wall. The loud thud startles me as I turn to face the entrance. Drew, one of the builders, whisks through the open gate, his dark hair flying about his face.
A wave of fiery anger blooms on Drew's face; his forehead tense.
"You!" he snarls through gritted teeth as spit shoots from his mouth. His eyes cling to Newt, unwavering.
Newt furrows his brow, squinting his nose. "What-"
Without hesitation, Drew charges towards Newt. He flails his fists into the air, slamming against Newt's abdomen. Drew swings again, this time his blow pummels against Newt's face, forcing him to the ground. Blood spatter sprays over the floor.
Instantly, I dart towards Drew, ignoring the growing pain in my side. I slam my elbow into his back, my legs almost toppling over with the force of my body weight.
Pulling back from Newt, he turns to face me. Instantly, a swift blow lands on my nose. The sudden shock sends pain radiating through my face and up to my eyes, pulsing beneath my skin. Struggling to stand, I stumble backwards.
Crimson blood runs freely from my nose. Groggily, I pull back my hands, smearing the blood over my mouth; the warm liquid coats my fingers.
A firm hand grips my arms from behind, pulling me up from the ground. Drew's figure turns back to Newt, who is lying down, his body writhing in pain.
Plunging towards Drew, Winston curls his fists into balls and begins slamming them into him continuously. I muster my strength and charge at Drew, kicking the back of his knee.
Drew's leg buckles as he collapses to the floor. Without hesitation, Frypan joins the fight. He tackles Drew to the ground; Drew's face collides with the dirt floor.
"Get off of me!" he growls.
Frypan holds him down. "Calm down,"
Drew struggles, attempting to shove Frypan away, but to no avail. After a couple of moments, he stops.
"You good?" Winston asks whilst pointing to Newt.
Newt pushes himself off the ground. A red bruise already begins to form on his face. Scarlet blood oozes down from his nose, dripping onto his shirt. He spits to the side, propelling a spray of blood to the dirt floor. Gripping his abdomen, Newt hobbles to one of the chairs and leans against it for support.
"Peachy..." Newt grumbles, his face weary.
"You'll need some ice for your face," I point out. Rubbing the blood off my mouth, I continue, "...so will I."
Winston directs his gaze to Drew. "What's your problem?"
His eyes stare back at Winston, filled with rage. Shifting his focus to Newt, he responds. "I saw the letter! He killed them, he killed my friends!"
"What letter?" Winston retorts.
"The one from the Creators..." he pauses for a moment, spitting a tooth to the floor, "...telling him to kill us."