A/N: Hello again! This is where the plot begins to pick up; the last chapter is pretty random as a stand-alone so I figured the sooner I got ch2 out, the better.
There are some suicidal thoughts in this chapter. For those of you who have trouble reading that: YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
Calvin had probably saved Newt's life the first time they went running together. Newt had been in a bad place since he'd come up, to put it extremely mildly. At that point, he didn't much enjoy his own company. It wasn't easy to believe that escape was possible. It wasn't easy to be eager to face a world cruel enough to subject kids like them to the horrors of the Maze. But it wasn't hard to decide that maybe the only way any of them would ever escape was by dying.
It wasn't like opportunities to slip away ever presented themselves upfront. He spent every day running with Minho. The buddy system was helpful sometimes, but it also meant Newt was never alone in the Maze. He never had the chance to leave, not without anyone knowing. He could think of climbing the vines, think of falling and never getting back up, but that was a freedom that he wasn't allowed. It didn't stop him from watching, waiting, praying for his moment to come.
When Minho had his day off, Newt was paired with Calvin for the day. At first, it was just like running with Minho, except Calvin went a little faster. They had to pause at midday so Newt could catch his breath; he was still getting used to this. He didn't want to have to get used to this.
Calvin had looked up, up, up the walls. "Barely look like they end," he commented offhandedly. "A fall like that would be deadly for sure." Heart in his throat, Newt looked up at the Keeper. Calvin watched him, expectant. He was waiting for a reply.
Newt had nodded. "Yeah. It would." His voice didn't sound right in his ears.
"They're this tall in the whole Maze. I've ran the greater half of this thing, Newt. It's all the same." He sat down next to Newt. The Maze fell silent in the absence of their chatter. Normally, Newt appreciated the quiet. Now it pressed down on him, grinding him into the walls. He was just about to say that they should get going—he hadn't quite caught his breath yet, but anything would be better than this—when Calvin spoke. "Just say it."
Newt froze. "What?"
"Say it. I'm listening, so say it."
"We're never going to get out. We're all going to die in here."
Calvin was silent. Still.
"Well?" Newt asked. "Aren't you going to disagree?"
"No," Calvin said simply. "I'm not." Then he stood. Looking up at him, Newt felt small. "But we're not going to stop running. It's a big Maze. Yes, I get discouraged sometimes. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that those guys back at the Glade don't lose hope, and that we Runners know why that matters. If they don't have any hope of escaping, if they don't have a common goal, then they don't have any motivation to survive here. We have to give them something to fight for." He looked at Newt, his eyes seeming to see straight through to Newt's soul. "If we let go, the whole Glade falls. There's no such thing as dying alone."
He offered his hand to Newt to help him up. Newt only hesitated for a moment. Then he took it. "Good that. We've gotta do it for the others. Even though there's no exit."
Calvin paused one last time, a sparkle in his eyes. "I never said there was no exit."
Then he ran, without looking back.
He didn't have to. Newt was right behind him.
…
Newt never felt comfortable around the shrewd Keeper of the Runners. Could Calvin read minds? His way of knowing things was uncanny. Still, he ran. If they left the model broken, the Gladers would get suspicious. The builders were already working on a new table. Hopefully this one'll be sturdier.
Up ahead, Calvin paused, eyes closed, head tilted. Newt knew by now that this meant he was trying to see the map in his mind to get his bearings, but Calvin seemed more frustrated. He slumped against the wall. "Something wrong?"
Calvin didn't face him when he spoke. "I keep trying to picture the model, but it keeps on being smashed."
"Even in your head?"
He laughed bitterly. "Why not?"
Newt put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look up. "It's getting late. We should keep going."
Calvin turned, suddenly brightening. The devilish glint in his eyes was back. "Nah. Let's have a sleepover."
Newt rolled his eyes. Calvin had kept a quick pace all day. He had had to run harder than ever before, and he was too tired to joke around. He just ran. He knew Calvin would follow.
Just running. Wasn't there more to life? Didn't there have to be? Maybe somewhere. But all Newt could ever do was run. If it helped the Glade, if it kept his friends safe, wasn't it worth it?
The Griever came out of nowhere.
One moment, they were running along side by side, hearing only their breathing, their feet slapping against the cold stone. Then, at a T intersection, it jumped out at them, shrieking.
Every Runner knew the code by heart: never stop running; split up and get back to the Glade if you see/hear a griever; and don't be a hero, because they always die.
Newt planted his foot into the ground and pivoted, taking off back the way he'd come too fast to get a good look at the creature. The griever swiped at them so close Newt could feel the air moving. Calvin was right next to him, but when Newt saw an upper path on his side of the path, he knew he had to take it. There was no time for good-bye-and-don't-die; one minute they were running together, and the next they were running alone.
The upper paths were all different, but the one thing they all had in common was how dangerously unpredictable they were. Newt found himself way up high on a precariously thin ledge, struggling to keep his balance. If he didn't die from the fall, he'd become griever chow. He could still hear it, but it was getting quieter. Calvin must've led it away. He couldn't focus on that, though, he just had to run. Nobody knew if the grievers could climb the walls, but he didn't want to find out the hard way.
The ledge took a sharp turn into the wall it was up against, creating a narrow tunnel. Unprepared, Newt nearly careened off the edge. He grabbed onto the wall, trying to stop. For a moment, he balanced on the very edge of the path, trying not to look at the ground. It was a long way down.
That was when he realized that for the first time he could remember, he was alone in the Maze. Completely alone. No one would know if he just… happened to fall.
Except Calvin might. The Runner's voice was buried in his head, nagging at him to get up, keep trying to do the impossible. Come back, Newt. We need you. If we let go, the whole Glade falls.
There's no such thing as dying alone.
Newt still didn't know what that meant. And he didn't quite know why he pulled himself back from the edge and collapsed into the tunnel. The day's run was catching up to him, and fast. The doors would close soon. There was no time to stop. He had to get back to the Glade.
He couldn't hear the griever anymore, so he cautiously made his way back to the ground, grateful that he was standing on solid rock again. It wasn't too far back to the Glade from there. He stayed close to the wall, keeping an ear out, but still ran as fast as he could. It wasn't long before he rounded the corner and saw the Glade. He stumbled through the Doors onto the grass, barely daring to believe he'd gotten back in one piece; that had been a closer call than usual, and the Doors would be closing at any minute. Calvin would be worried about him at that point. Newt trudged across the Glade into the forest to the map room, his legs protesting the whole way.
When he had almost reached the edge of the woods, the Doors rumbled and began to close. He paused. If he'd been even three minutes later, he'd be stuck in the Maze at night. His nerves settled a moment later and he kept going.
Minho suddenly burst through the trees, stopping just before he crashed into Newt. Newt jerked away, nearly falling over. I'm too bloody tired for this. "Watch it, shank—"
"Where's Calvin?"
Newt froze. "What? Isn't he back by now?" Calvin always got back first. Always. Minho and Newt had been trying to beat him all year, but it was an effort in vain.
But Minho shook his head. "I've been in the map room for at least twenty minutes, he would've been there to work on the new model. Hey, shouldn't he be with you?"
"Griever. Split up," Newt said shortly, desperately scanning the Glade for Calvin's mop of red hair but coming up short. Calvin wasn't back yet? The thought hadn't even occurred to him. Of course Calvin would make it back.
Minho moved to stand in Newt's line of vision. "A griever? You don't think—"
The Doors slammed shut with a solid finality.
No one would be getting in until sunrise.