Ash doesn't really feel like celebrating at the bonfire that night, preferring an early bedtime soon after dinner. Frypan sits with her for the few minutes that she stays out, a mason jar in one hand and Nellie's stick (briefly and intermittently) in his other. He tries to get her to try the drink, and she almost caves this time. In the end, however, she stands her ground.
"You sure you don't wanna have another go in the ring?" he teases once she tells him she's going to bed.
"Like Gally would ever let me goad him into that a second time," she replies, laughing quietly as she shakes her head. On the other side of the bonfire, she sees the greenie sitting against a log by himself, though it looks like Newt is already on his way over to change that with two mason jars in hand.
"Let me know if someone keels over," she sighs, patting Frypan on the shoulder before going to her room.
Once the door is closed and locked behind her, she removes her sports bra without removing her shirt— a skill she's only recently perfected; normal bras had always been much easier, but the Creators hadn't seen fit to make her life easier— and kicks off her shoes. She tucks her spare sets of socks into them to prevent any nasty surprises in the morning, and carefully climbs into her hammock, bringing her blanket all the way up to her chin. The days may be hot more often than not, but the nights are cold.
Especially in a hammock.
It rocks gently from the momentum, and she stares up at the ceiling and tries to remind herself to breathe. Now is not the time for a panic attack, she tells herself. It's time to compartmentalize… these next couple weeks are going to be insane. I need to focus on the plan. One step at a time.
Eventually, a fitful sleep finds her, her dreams engulfing her completely. Running through the maze, stumbling through a desert, a lightning storm.
In the early hours of the morning, when the light from the sunrise— barely peeking over the top of the east wall— makes everything look gray, Thomas wakes to someone's hand over his mouth.
He flails, but recovers when he recognizes who the hand belongs to. It's Alby, and he's gesturing for Thomas to be quiet and follow him. They head toward a stretch of the wall near where the doors had disappeared, untouched by ivy, but as they get closer Thomas can see the scratch marks etched into it. The knife in Alby's hand starts to make sense.
"It's peaceful, isn't it?" Alby asks quietly, but he doesn't wait for an answer. "I know it's hard to believe, but it hasn't always been like this… we had some dark days. Lost a lot of boys to fear, to panic. But we've come far since then— established order, made peace." He looks at Thomas intently, and a beat of silence passes.
"Why are you telling me this?" the newer boy asks, glancing around the Glade as though the answer lay hidden there.
"'Cause you're not like the others," Alby replies simply. "You're curious… but you're one of us now, and you need to know what that means."
He grabs Thomas's wrist, not harshly, and places the handle of the knife into the boy's palm, curling Thomas's fingers around it. Alby takes a step back and gestures to the scratched-up wall behind them, and Thomas finally notices that they're names. The names of all the other boys (and the one girl) in the Glade… but some are scratched out, a horizontal line straight through the letters. The names beneath are still legible, but the mark is obviously intentional.
His eyes wander over the struck-through names— Alfred, Stephen, Justin, George.
"What happened to them?" he asks, pointing to one with the knife.
"Like I said… dark days, Thomas," the other boy says quietly. He doesn't elaborate, clearly not wanting to, so Thomas drops it.
He takes one more step closer to the wall, and eyes an empty spot just above Newt's name, between Alby and Winston, and starts to carve. It takes him several minutes to get each letter deep enough to be truly visible, and by the time he's done, Alby has already wandered off.
Taking one last look at all the names, Thomas turns and starts heading back to where the rest of the Gladers are starting to wake up and get breakfast. Alby is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Newt, but Chuck is waiting for him right by the kitchens.
Some of the boys are more awake than others, but everyone is eating quietly. Chuck hands him a bowl of oatmeal, and leads the way to a table with a couple open spots. It just so happens to be where the girl is sitting, alone. She doesn't even glance up as Chuck sits right next to her, eyes half closed as she pushes her own oatmeal around the bowl; it doesn't look like she's even eaten any of it.
"Hi, Ash," Chuck says, smiling. She doesn't really respond except to lift her other hand, index and middle fingers briefly forming a V shape.
The boy turns back to Thomas, and whisper-shouts, "She's not a morning person." To which Ash responds by putting just her index finger back down. Thomas snorts as he takes a bite of his breakfast, and after another moment, she puts her middle finger back down as well.
She seems to be about ready to fall asleep right there at the table, but manages to stay awake until her new table mates are finished eating. Her bowl is still full, but she gets up and takes it (and Chuck and Thomas's empty bowls) over to one of the other Gladers, who has already started working on dishes in the kitchen. Once empty-handed, she wanders off until she's out of sight.
"Yeah, she's really not a morning person," Chuck says, shrugging. "Don't worry, she'll be a lot nicer by lunch time."
The morning after Box Day usually means taking inventory, and reorganizing supplies as necessary, so that's what Ash does. Clint is behind her, still learning this particular process, while Jeff is nowhere to be seen.
Alby stops by about an hour or so after breakfast.
"How's the greenie?" Ash asks, and the boy shrugs.
"Seems fine— I've got him out in the gardens with Zart for now. How would you feel about having another shadow after lunch?"
"Eh… I wouldn't mind," she allows. "I thought I heard Winston complaining about needing more help, though."
"Yeah, I might have him try that tomorrow," Alby says. "I dunno if the bloodhouse on the first day is—"
Alby's cut off by distant yelling. It sounds like multiple boys, all freaking out at once.
The three in the medjack hut race out to the source, to where several boys are holding down a struggling Ben, the runner, against the ground. The crowd around them parts to let Alby and Ash through in particular. Newt, Frypan, and Gally are working together to have Ben's limbs pinned, and Thomas is struggling to his feet by himself. Ben goes somewhat limp, like all his manic energy has been sapped from him in one go.
"Lift his shirt," Alby orders, and Ash swallows heavily as the Sting site is revealed on his stomach.
Why is it always the stomach? she wonders, already getting on her knees to try to inspect the wound better.
Ben starts to squirm again, as the crowd around them begin to whisper.
"He's been stung," Gally says, eyes going wide as he looks away from his friend and toward the others. "In the middle of the day?"
Ben just keeps muttering small pleas, half-garbled. Tensions are high, everyone waiting for Alby's next signal, though they don't have to wait long. The only option they have at the moment is clear.
"Put him in the Pit," he barks, and Ben's begging gets louder as he starts to struggle full-force once more. Zart and two others step forward to help get him there, as Ash sits back and watches them go.
Alby turns on his heel and stalks off, and the crowd takes his lead and scatters back to their respective jobs. Someone offers Ash a hand, which she takes so they can haul her back to her feet. Giving the boy— one of the track-hoes, she doesn't remember his name off the top of her head— a brief thanks, she hurries back to the medjack hut to try and finish inventory as quickly as possible.
Her stomach is churning, vivid images of Alfred's corpse coming back to her mind. Two other boys had been stung since then, though Alby and Minho refused to let that stop them recruiting more. They hadn't bothered waiting for the sting to kill those boys, either; opting instead to banish them back into the Maze as the doors closed the following evening.
Stephen and Justin.
They'd each been stung much later in the evening, and had to spend their last nights in the Pit. Ben in comparison will be lucky. He'll only have to spend a few hours there before his banishment.
The rest of the day passes all too slowly, every second stretching out into what feels like an eternity. It's a hot day, even inside the medjack hut, and sweat beads along her hairline as she works. No one else seems to need medical attention for the rest of the day, not even the clumsiest Gladers.
As evening finally approaches, and she can hear the boys outside prepping for the banishment, Ash opts to stay where she is. She doesn't want to see it, not again.
She can hear the doors start to rumble, and squeezes her hands over her ears as she takes a seat on one of the cots. Her eyes are shut tight, too, but her brain seems to be working overtime anyway. She can picture Ben's face, his begging and pleading; the poles used to push him into the Maze; the others' faces, stone cold and determined.
Laying down, Ash tries not to let the tears escape.
It's only gonna get worse from here, she reminds herself. Still, she can't help but cry a little for the friends she's already lost; for the ones she knows she'll inevitably lose.
The next morning, she wakes even before the sun. She's still in the medjack hut, but a blanket has been draped over her.
Slowly sitting up, she wipes her face off on her sleeve, then slips out of the hut. She can see Alby, Minho, and Newt heading toward where the Maze doors are due to appear, and she jogs over to meet up with them.
"You guys are really going out there?" she asks apprehensively, and Alby nods.
"Something's obviously different out there," he says. "As early in the day as Ben got stung… he must've found something."
Ash sighs and nods. "Okay," she murmurs, then reaches into her small satchel and pulls out a few first aid supplies. She instructs Minho to turn around so she can pack them away, then steps back as the doors begin to open.
"Be careful," Newt says, looking at Minho with an unreadable look on his face.
As soon as the opening is wide enough to accommodate them both, Minho and Alby take off, disappearing as they turn a corner.
"They'll be okay," Ash says, patting Newt's shoulder as they finally turn away from the Maze. "Let's go get some breakfast, yeah?"
"Not sure I'm hungry," Newt mumbles, but continues to follow her toward the kitchens anyway. Most of the Gladers, including Frypan, are only just now waking up, so the pair simply takes a seat at one of the tables to wait. They don't say anything more, the silence between them tense but not uncomfortable.
Gally and Jeff join them after a few minutes, just in time for Fry to announce that the first batch of breakfast is ready to go.
Thankfully it's not oatmeal.