Sweat dampens the palms of my hands, the afternoon sun mercilessly beating down on me. Beads of water roll down my face before falling to the boxes beneath me. A constant ache burns in my arms, inching its way up to my shoulders. Heaving in breaths, I sit down on the soft grass, propping myself against the supply crate.

A cool breeze relieves me, brushing against my skin. I glance down, admiring the necklace Gally made me not long ago. My eyelids slowly begin to close. Dreariness sweeps over me, everything fading to darkness.

"Shift it, Tanya, we got work to do!"

Startled, I jolt forward, peeling my eyes open. Jeff hovers over me, silhouetted from the sun behind him, "B-but I just moved loads of boxes, now you want me to do more?"

"You lifted three boxes," He says, raising his brows.

I nervously scratch the back of my head, "I-it felt like more."

"Mmm-hmm," Jeff hums, "Don't forget to bring that one to the med-bay." With that, he walks away to the Homestead.

I lean my arm against the crate, pushing myself off the ground. My hands wrap around the sides as I pull the box up. The weight tugs at my arms, but I trudge through, determined to get to the med-bay.

As I approach, a high-pitch voice speaks from behind me, Chuck's voice, "...it's not that bad, once you get used to it."

I promptly turn around. Chuck lingers beside the new guy as he walks past me.

"Just...leave me alone." He says, running to the Deadheads. Chuckie races after him, his curly hair bounces up and down in the wind.

I inch my way closer to the med-bay, putting down the box. The medical crate drops with a loud thud. An exasperated sigh escapes my lungs, a sense of pride filling me at the finished task. I dab my sleeve against my face, soaking up the moisture on it. Drowsily, I begin walking over to Chuck and the Greenie.

After a couple of minutes, I arrive within earshot.

"What is this place?"

The new guy's voice wavers as he speaks. A grim expression lies over his face, sadness lurking behind his eyes.

"Don't really know..." Chuck murmurs, shrugging his shoulders.

The newbie grips his fists, tightly gripping his jaw, "What does that mean, 'you don't know?"

"He means we don't know, none of us do. Why we're here, or who put us here? Nobody knows, the only thing I do know is that we're stuck, here, in a giant Maze with seemingly no way out, no end, and no escape." The last words linger on my tongue, slowly sinking to my stomach as I stand beside Chuck.

He furrows his brow as if still processing the words, "Wait, I don't-understand, what maze?"

I bitterly scoff, pointing to the walls, "This whole place, it's a maze. What do you think those walls are? Inside it's just, miles of corridors. The runners, they map it out, look for an escape."

"Have they found one?" He asks, his words laced with hope.

I shake my head. Eager to change the topic, I continue, "Enough of that, how are you holding up? I hope Chuck isn't bothering you too much."

Chuck's eyes widen as if somehow offended. The Greenie cocks his head to the side, his gaze wandering towards the Deadheads. Immediately, his eyes bulge in shock while dropping his jaw, "What's that?"

I turn, following his line of sight, "What is wha-"

My voice trails off, disappearing entirely. A body swings from one of the trees, its outline barely visible, "Chuck, erm, you need to, uh, you need to get Alby, now. Get him now!"

"It's Isaac,"

Jeff's voice quivers as he utters the words, covering the dead boy's face with a piece of cloth. Two other boys reach for the stretcher and begin to carry him away. My eyes drop down to the ground, purposefully avoiding the sight.

A deep impression delves into the forest floor near the body, a footprint. Other shoe impressions circle it, but nothing as stark as this one. Something has weighed down whoever that was, or someone; the killer.

Leaning in closer, I examine the footprint more closely. To my surprise, the tread is unique, unlike the standard shoe that I received when I arrived. Criss-crossed lines run across the print, like that from a fancy trainer, or sneaker. The killer could be a runner.

I step back, leaning against a nearby tree, my mind racing with possibilities. My heartbeat quickens as I finally receive the first proper clue. A real chance of catching the killer soon sinks into my brain.

Thomas and Chuck soon appear in front of me, Chuck waving his hand across my face, "Tanya?"

"Guys, look at this!" I point towards the footprint, "I think it belongs to the murderer."

The Greenie's eyes bulge out of his head, "Whoa, hold on, what murderer?"

"Oh, yeah, on top of being trapped in a Maze, there's also a homicidal maniac killing people. Did I forget to mention?" I respond sarcastically before continuing, "Anyway, it looks a lot like a runner's shoe..."

Chuck promptly interrupts, "Pity we can't just search their rooms or something, sounds quicker than asking Alby, that's for sure."

I bit my inner lip, "We couldn't just..."

"No..." Chuck responds hesitantly.

"It's not like we're breaking in, I mean, it's for a good cause!" I answer.

The new guy's face quickly turns sour, "Wha-you can't just-"

I roll my eyes, "Look, Greenbean, we're trying to catch a killer here, so are you in, or are you out?"

He cocks his head to the side as if considering, "I'm in."