The boys left the weapons room to look around and find the supplies they needed. Because she wasn't in the best shape, Clara stayed and organized the boxes by section, and scoured the place for stray materials. Minutes later, they returned with armfuls of wax paper and pencils. The girl came following after them. It was weird seeing her there, standing in the doorway, not catatonic. She was striking. Clara felt a pang of jealousy and embarrassingly adjusted her shirt, knowing she probably looked like a garbage pile. Minho dumped the supplies on the table, snapping her back into reality.
"We couldn't find any scissors." Minho said to her. She grabbed a knife she'd found while scavenging around the room, holding it in front of her.
"How bout this for now?"
"This better be good." Minho said to Thomas.
Newt leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. "Get on with it, Greenie."
"Okay." Thomas began. He handed the knife in Clara's hand to Minho, then pointed to the wax paper. "You and Clara start cutting rectangles, about the size of the Maps. Newt and Teresa, you can help me grab the first ten or so Maps from each section box." Teresa, Clara thought, that's her name. The girl that triggered the Ending. Clara wasn't sure why, but she felt slightly threatened by the strange girl. She was standing next to Newt. Too close.
"What is this, kiddie craft time?" Minho complained "Why don't you tell us what the klunk we're doing this for?" He held up the knife, looking at it with disgust.
"I'm done explaining." Thomas replied "It'll be easier to show you. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, and we can go back to running around the Maze like mice." Minho sighed, muttering something under his breath as Thomas walked over to the storage closet. "Teresa, can you help me a second?" Teresa followed Thomas over to the closet. Clara took another knife and began cutting the wax paper. By the time Thomas and Teresa came back, she and Minho had cut about twenty sheets each. Thomas grabbed a few from Clara's pile and held it up to the light. He grabbed a marker.
"Alright, everybody trace the last ten or so days onto a piece of this stuff. Make sure you write the info on top top so we can keep track of what's what. When we're done, I think we might see something."
"What-" Minho started.
"Just bloody keep cutting." Newt ordered "I think I know where he's going with this." Clara didn't exactly understand Thomas, but she was getting a vague idea of his goal. Besides, it was the only option they had. So she grabbed a pencil and started tracing. Soon she had five done. The others were working just as feverishly. Out of the corner of Clara's eye, she could see Newt stealing glances at her as they worked; conflicting emotions crossed his face. Frustration, sadness, jealousy, guilt. Clara was just confused.
"I've had enough." he coincidentally announced, breaking the quiet "My fingers are bloody burning like a mother. See if it's working."
Thomas put his marker down. "Okay, give me the last few days of each section-make piles along the table, in order from Section One to Section Eight. One here," he pointed to an end "to Eight here." he pointed to the other end. They did as he asked, and soon there were eight low piles on the table. Thomas picked up one page from each pile, laying them on top each other. His eyes widened and he laid it on the table. Sitting in the exact center of the page, was the letter F.
"Man," Minho breathed.
"Could be a coincidence," Teresa said, Clara inwardly noting how smooth and feminine it sounded "Do more, quick." Thomas did, putting together the next eight pages of each day, from Section One to Eight. Each time, a letter appeared in the center. After the F was an L, then an O, then an A and a T. Then C... A... T.
"Look," Thomas pointed at the stacks lining the table. It spells FLOAT and then it spells CAT.
"Float cat?" Newt scoffed "Doesn't sound like a bloody rescue code to me."
"We just need to keep working." Thomas explained. A couple combinations later, they realized the second word was CATCH. FLOAT and CATCH.
"Definitely not a coincidence." Minho said
"Definitely not." Thomas agreed.
Teresa gestured toward the closet. "We need to go through all of them- all those boxes in there."
"Yeah, let's get on it."
"We can't help." Minho announced, receiving looks from the other four. He returned their glares. "At least not me and Thomas here. We need to get the Runners out in the Maze."
"What?" Thomas argued "This is way more important!"
"Maybe, but we can't miss a day out there. Not now."
"Why, Minho? You said the pattern's basically repeating itself for months- one more day won't mean a thing."
Minho slammed his hand on the table, making it shake slightly. "That's bullcrap, Thomas! Of all days, this might be the most important to get out there. Something might've changed, something might have opened up. In fact, with the freaking walls not closing anymore, I think we should try your idea- stay out overnight and do some deeper exploring."
"But what about this code? What about-"
"Tommy," Newt interjected, his voice consoling "Minho's right. You shanks go out and get runnin'. The rest of us will get workin' on this."
"Good that." Minho nodded and turned to leave. "Everything's fine and dandy. Come on." he started to go to the door, but Thomas' feet were glued to the floor.
"Don't worry, Tommy." Newt said, patting his back. "Your girlfriend will be fine." Thomas followed Minho without a word and the two disappeared up the stairs.
