It was time for another sleepless night. The Builders had sloppily re-boarded the windows to the Homestead, as well as the damage done by Grievers on previous nights. Alby was well enough to walk again, his head heavily bandaged, and he insisted everyone rotate where they slept each night. Clara was thankful Alby was back in leadership, the Glade felt unstable without him.
Clara ended up on the bottom floor in the large common area. Thankfully, Zart and Minho were also there, so she found a spot close enough to both of them and attempted to get comfortable. She knew she wasn't going to sleep anytime soon, but nevertheless, she squeezed her eyes closed and tugged her blanket over her shoulders.
Silence settled over the room fairly quickly; Clara wondered whether it was out of exhaustion, fear, or both. Then, as everyone anticipated, the haunting sound of the Grievers could be heard from inside the Glade. The noises came closer, and with it came the rattling of metal and the sticky sound of them rolling across the grass nearby. Everyone huddled together against the wall farthest from the window, keeping as quiet as they could. Clara squished herself between Minho and Zart, hugging her arms. She could feel the tension rising in the room as if everyone could feel something bad was about to happen. From behind them, a scraping of metal against wood was heard as a Griever was most likely crawling up the side of the Homestead. Clara buried her head behind Minho's shoulder as a moan came from right outside their window.
A booming explosion of splitting wood and shattered glass thundered from somewhere upstairs, shaking the Homestead. Several screams erupted, followed by a stampede of boys down the stairway.
"It's got Dave!" someone yelled. No one in Clara's room moved an inch, scared to have the Griever's attention drawn to them. A crash came right outside their door, and then the sound of ripping wood as the Griever left the Homestead by tearing the front door off.
Before Clara could think straight, she saw Thomas jump up from the floor and run after the escaping creature. She heard Newt yelling after him, but Thomas didn't stop running until he disappeared out of Clara's line of sight. She was curious to see where he was going so she got up and followed him. When she exited the Homestead, she saw Thomas, but he had collapsed on the ground a few yards away as the remaining Grievers ran back into the Maze. She got to him at the same time Newt did, with Chuck and Teresa following close behind. Newt grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him up, gripping under both arms.
"Someone get his legs, Newt called out over the yelling. Clara grabbed them both, although they were very heavy and put pressure on Clara's still-healing side. Together, she and Newt carried their friend across the courtyard, into the Homestead, down the shattered hall, and dropped him onto a couch in one of the rooms.
"What were you doing?" Newt yelled in Thomas' face. This was the first time Clara had seen him so enraged, even during their fight. "How could you be so bloody stupid?"
"No..." Thomas said weakly "Newt... you don't understand..." Clara put her head in her hand and shook it. The number of times he had said that before was too much to count.
"Shut up!" Newt shouted, "Don't waste your energy!"
Clint and Jeff quickly examined him and Clara came to find out that Thomas had been stung, and most likely on purpose by the way he was talking and how mad Newt was at him. Chuck came up next to Clara; his pudgy face had lost its rosiness seeing his best friend like that.
"Is Thomas going to be okay?" he asked
"I hope so." Clara replied as positively as she could.
Newt yelled for the Grief Serum and Jeff came back with it, injecting it into Thomas' arm. Thomas seemed to relax and lose consciousness. His lips moved slightly as if to tell them one last thing, but it was too loud and no one heard it.
It had been a day since Thomas started the Changing, and Clara was getting increasingly desperate as another hour dragged by. Another Glader was taken by the Grievers the night before, a boy she never spoke to. By then she was just hoping she and her friends would make it out alive. She checked her watch and it read 8:53 pm. Alby and Newt were rounding up the Gladers and separating them into their designated sleeping areas for the night. Clara was in Thomas' room, trying not to look as the boy writhed in pain. Alby came through the door, with Newt trailing behind him. They made eye contact for a second, but both were too nervous and quickly looked away. Clara inwardly scolded herself for not doing something about it.
"What are we doing with Thomas?" Clara asked Alby.
"The best thing we can do is put him in the Slammer so the Grievers can't find him," he replied. Far off in the distance, Clara heard the faint moaning of the Grievers, and her eyes widened.
"We better make it fast." she said
Alby and Clara hauled Thomas to the side of the Homestead as Newt fumbled for his keys. A couple of Grievers had already entered the Glade, making Clara's heart jump into her throat at the sight of them. Newt inserted the key into the lock as one of the Grievers spotted their movement, letting out a shrill screech to alert the others.
"Go go go! Alby go!" Clara hissed. Alby ran into the Homestead as Newt unlocked the Slammer. He opened the door and Clara rolled Thomas' limp body into the pit; the Grievers were a few yards away. Newt closed and locked the Slammer and as they started to run away, a Griever knocked them to the ground, each of them going in a separate direction. It loomed over Newt, who was closest to it, readying itself to take another victim. A sharp long stick caught Clara's eye a few feet away; she scrambled for it and jumped up as a claw snapped at Newt's arm, making him cry out in pain.
Clara let out a sharp cry, causing the Griever to direct its attention to her. Before the creature could react, Clara hurled the stick straight at it. It connected with what Clara assumed was its head; it sank deep into the bulbous skin with a squelch. The Griever released a metallic screech as it backed away, trying to swat at the stick with its arms. Clara took the distraction to run over and help Newt up, both of them sprinting back to the Homestead. As soon as they arrived, the window next to them shattered, flinging glass in every direction. With amazing speed, a Griever's arm with a claw attached to it grabbed a boy by the shirt and dragged him out of the building flailing and screaming. With their victim of the night caught, the Grievers returned to the Maze. Silence followed.
Newt fished a roll of bandages out of his pocket and wrapped his bloody arm. "We can't keep doing this." he sighed. Clara agreed.