Newt stood in front of the Doors, frozen, staring into the gray stone. Then something clicked.

Clara's gone. She's dead. Everyone's dead.

He let out a long, earth-shaking wail and ran to the walls, trying to pry the Door open with his bare hands. Trying to get to her. Obviously, it wasn't working, and in a fit of hysteria he began to pound at the walls, cutting his fists on the rough stone. He cried and screamed until his throat was raw, and beat at the walls until his hands ran crimson, painting the door with his own blood. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"C'mon, shank." he said, his eyes shiny with tears "Get some rest. You're turning your hands into meat." Newt could only shake his head. He turned to look at him sharply

"Leave me alone!" he snapped, his voice gravelly. In the chaos, a few Gladers had run over to the Door.

"Come on." Zart insisted, his tone firm. He tugged at Newt's shirt "There's nothing you-any of us- can do now. They're already dead. We can't have you sitting here all night screamin' your head off." Zart pulled at Newt's arm, trying to get him to move, but he remained glued to the ground.

"No!" he cried, punching the wall again. Zart called for someone to help him and soon Gladers were pulling Newt away from the doors as he thrashed and screamed. They dragged him back to the Homestead and up to his room, his ankles bumping on the stairs. He was shoved into his room and the door closed, a clicking sound signaled it was locked. Newt scrambled up to the door and pounded on it.

"What are you doing?!" he screeched "Let me out!"

"This is for your own good Newt." Zart's muffled voice came through the door, tinged with guilt. "We'll let you out once you get your sense back."

"No! Zart!" Newt jiggled the handle. Locked. He sank to his knees, curling up into a ball on the floor, his body shaking with heavy sobs. If he was a little bit faster, if he hadn't walked away, Clara would be sleeping peacefully in their bed, not a care in the world.

It's all my fault.


A thick silence hung in the air after the Door closed. Clara stared blankly at the wall where she'd just seen Newt a second before. The last time they saw each other, in a state of terror. She could hear screams coming from the Glade and knew it was him. Her eyes filled with tears at how heartbroken he sounded. She leaned back on her knees, her head turned to the sky. She couldn't control the sob of despair that came out of her mouth.

Clara felt someone shuffle over to her and an arm wrapped around her shoulder. She turned her head to see Minho looking at her, defeated.

"We were so close..." she whispered. He nodded, squeezing once and letting go. He looked over at Thomas, and his mood quickly changed from sympathetic to annoyed.

"Greenie," he said "if you think that was brave comin' out here, listen up. You're the shuckiest shuck-faced shuck there ever was. You're good as dead, just like us."

"I couldn't just sit there and leave you guys out here." Thomas argued

"And what good are you with us?" Minho rolled his eyes "Whatever, dude. Break the Number One Rule, kill yourself, whatever."

"You're welcome. I was just trying to help." Thomas said angrily. Minho laughed bitterly and leaned down next to Alby, who was looking worse by the minute.

"Thomas, you've got to understand that there's no way we're getting out of this. I know you wanted to help, but in this situation, help won't be enough." Clara explained, checking Alby's pulse. Their leader looked close to death; his breaths were fast and shallow and he was coated in a layer of sweat.

"What happened?" Thomas asked.

"Don't wanna talk about it." Minho answered "Let's just say the Grievers can play dead very well."

"So he was... bitten? Stung, whatever? Is he going through the Changing?"

"You've got a lot to learn."

"Is he going to die?" Clara winced at Thomas' question. Aren't we all?, she thought.

"Since we didn't make it back before sunset, probably. Could be dead in an hour- I don't know how long it takes if you don't get the Serum." Minho told him "Course, we'll be dead too, so don't get all weepy for him. Yep, we'll be all nice and dead soon."

"Please stop talking about it." Clara pleaded, burying her face in her hands, her thoughts only filled with Newt's horrified face.

"We're really going to die?" Thomas' voice shook. "You're telling me we have no chance?"

"None." Minho returned to Clara's side. Her body trembled as she tried to restrain her sobs.

"Oh, come on." Thomas said, his voice rising in annoyance. "There has to be something we can do. How many Grievers'll come at us?" he peered down the Maze corridor, as if expecting Grievers to coincidentally show up that very second.

"I don't know." Minho answered vaguely

"But what about Ben? And Gally, and others who've been stung and survived?" Minho looked at Thomas like he was dumber than a pile of cow klunk.

"They made it back before sunset. No one has gone without the Serum for longer than that." Clara explained.

"But I thought Grievers only came out at night."

"Then you were wrong, shank." Minho said

"They always come out at night. Doesn't mean they don't show up during the day." Clara added

"Has anyone ever been caught outside the walls at night and lived through it?" Thomas asked. Clara just wished he would stop talking.

"Never." Minho replied, making Thomas scowl thoughtfully.

"How many died, then?"

Minho stared at the ground "At least twelve. Haven't you been to the graveyard?"

"Yeah."

"Well, those are just the ones we found. There are more whose bodies never showed up." Minho pointed back to the sealed off Glade. Newt's screams were finally fading, and Minho noticed because his eyes met Clara's and filled with sadness. "That freaking graveyard's back in the woods for a reason. Nothing kills happy time more than being reminded of your slaughtered friends every day." he patted Clara's leg and stood up, grabbing Alby's limp arms. "Come on," he said to her "We gotta carry him over to the Door. Give 'em one body that's easy to find in the morning."

At the morbid statement, Clara grabbed Alby's legs and they dragged him to the crack in the Door, setting him upright against it.

"Where was he bitten? Can you see it?" Thomas asked

"They don't freaking bite you. They prick you. And no, you can't see it. There could be dozens all over his body." Minho leaned against the wall, folding his arms.

"Prick you? What does that mean?"

"Dude, you just have to see them to know what I'm talking about."

Thomas pointed at Minho's arms and legs "Well, why didn't the thing prick you?"

"Maybe it did- maybe I'll collapse any second."

"They..." Thomas began. He was at a loss for words, thankfully.

"There was no they, just the one we thought was dead. It went nuts and stung Alby, but then ran away." Minho looked back into the Maze; it was almost fully dark. "But I'm sure it and whole bunch of them suckers'll be here soon to finish us off with their needles."

"Needles?"

"Yeah, needles." Clara groaned and pulled her knees to her chest.

Thomas looked up at the walls that were covered with thick vines.

"Can't we climb this thing?" He looked between Minho and Clara but neither of them responded "The vines- can't we climb them?"

Minho sighed, frustrated "I swear, Greenie, you must think we're a bunch of idiots. You really think we've never had the ingenious thought of climbing the freaking walls?"

"I'm just tryin to help, man. Why don't you quit moping at every word I say and talk to me?" Thomas retorted angrily. Minho jumped at Thomas and grabbed him by the shirt. Clara gasped and rushed after him.

"You don't understand, shuckface! You don't know anything, and you're just making it worse by trying to have hope! We're dead, you hear me? Dead!"

"Minho!" Clara snapped him back to reality, shaking his shoulder. He looked at her then back at his hands clasped to Thomas' shirt, and a look of shame washed over him. He backed away, slowly letting go of him.

"Ah, man, oh man," Minho whimpered, crumpling to the ground and burying his face in his balled fists. Clara knelt down beside him and put her arms around him. "I've never been this scared before. Not like this." Clara watched as Minho, her best friend, who always seemed to keep his cool and find a way out of things, completely change into someone she didn't know. She saw Thomas open his mouth to speak again, but quickly closed it when they heard a noise. Minho's head popped up; he looked down the stone corridor where the sound came from. It was low and haunting, with a constant whirring and a sharp, metallic ring every few seconds. It grew louder and louder, and Clara's heart filled with terror when she heard a familiar clicking sound. A hollow moan filled the air, then a noise like the clanking of chains.

Griever.