Season Two, Episode Eleven: When the Going Gets Strong

Elizabeth followed Leo to the edge of the Glade. She was trying to remain composed, but it got harder the closer they got to the entrance of the Maze. Leo stopped at the enormous doors, gazing into the Maze with awe before Elizabeth shoved past him. She tightened her ponytail and glared at the walls, as if she could somehow make them disappear forever.

"Remind me whose idea this was, again?" she asked, her voice shaking with contained anger.

Leo flinched. "Damon was the one who brought it up first. I told them to ask Alby first but they went to Chris and Snow instead," he explained.

"Right." Elizabeth didn't want to admit how worried she was, because she didn't want to upset the other Gladers, but she also knew she couldn't handle the situation alone. Damon and Stoy had apparently gone backpacking into the Maze, and Leo had tried to stop them—or so he said—to no avail. Clearly they had forgotten all the dangers of said Maze; Elizabeth really couldn't imagine someone being so deluded. She mentally listed off her options before turning to Leo and nodding.

"Okay, here's the plan," she said, "The sun isn't going down for another couple hours. I'll let Minho know, and we'll go look for Stoy and Damon."

Leo licked his lips. "Do…I mean, should I come with you?"

"Not necessary," Elizabeth said. He would only slow them down, and they didn't need one more person who might need saving. She twisted a strand of hair around her finger and bit her lip in thought.

"Actually it may be a good idea to tell Nick and Alby what's going on," she said.

"We can't tell them!" Leo's voice was suddenly frantic. Elizabeth frowned at him.

"I know you don't want to make anyone upset, but it's not your fault, Leo. Alby and Nick can decide if we tell the others or not, so we can keep the whole thing under wraps. I know you don't want to make anyone upset, but in the end I need to do what's best for the Glade."

"I know! I just…I should have told them sooner. They'll be angry that I waited." Leo looked at the ground and Elizabeth was reminded that he was still just a kid. She put a hand on his shoulder and gave him what she thought was her most reassuring smile.

"This isn't your fault, Leo," she said.

They walked back to the rest of the Gladers, most of them had dispersed after finishing the meal. Elizabeth sidled up to Minho as he was walking to the showers.

"Slight change of plans," she said.

Leo licked his lips, nervously. He could feel Chris's eyes on him, dark and judgmental. Leo knew that somehow he had figured out what was going on. Damon and Stoy hadn't been around for a while, and while most of the Gladers had shrugged it aside, Chris had been eerily silent; chewing his food and searching the table until his gaze landed on Leo's.

That was when he'd pulled Elizabeth aside. He couldn't take the pressure, anymore. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault, and Elizabeth wouldn't think it was, either. Telling anyone else would be a mistake. And he was right, of course. Elizabeth told him it wasn't his fault. She'd flashed her cheerful, white smile at him and said he didn't have to feel guilty.

Leo didn't feel guilty. Yet. What he felt was anxious. Anxious because after Elizabeth drew Minho aside, they looked at each other grimly and walked away together in a direction Leo couldn't pinpoint. Anxious because Chris kept boring holes in his head with that accusatory glare. And anxious because everybody else was so…calm. Normal. Everyone thought it was just another normal evening. Zart and Alby were laughing together about something that had happened earlier, and a few of the builders had gotten together to discuss if the next project should be another hut, or another klunker-stall. Clint and Jeff were walking towards the Homestead, followed by Snow who was explaining something to the Greenie (who had been perturbed ever since he showed up in the box).

"You okay there, Leo?" Leo jumped at the voice and the boy behind him chuckled a little, like he wanted to laugh but knew he shouldn't.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," the accent meant it was Newt. Leo turned and shrugged nonchalantly.

"I wasn't startled," he said. This time Newt really did laugh. The skin around his eyes crinkled and his mouth opened in amusement. For some reason, watching Elizabeth's boyfriend laugh without constraint made Leo uneasy. Now he felt guilty. Why hadn't Elizabeth told Newt about Damon and Stoy?

Shuck, why hadn't Leo?

"Sure you weren't," Newt punched him lightly in the shoulder and Leo grunted. Newt cocked his head.

"You didn't answer my question," he said, still smiling.

"I'm alright. Just a little tired," Leo said. It was a half-truth. He wasn't exactly alright, but he was tired and other than the fact his friends were somewhere in the Maze, he was okay. For the most part, anyway.

"You tell Elizabeth what you needed to?" Newt asked. Shuck! Leo had forgotten that Newt was there when they left together. And she had never gone back to finish her meal. That must be why Newt was talking to him right now! He was suspicious and—Leo took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. He nodded.

"Oh, yeah. I told her," he said awkwardly. Newt raised an eyebrow.

"What did you have to talk about? Why are you so nervous right now?"

Leo said the first thing that popped in his head: "I just told her she's really pretty."

Newt paused, and Leo could feel his heartbeat increase, and the blood running to his cheeks. Shuck! Wrong thing to say! Abort mission! Abort!

"That was nice of you," Newt said. He smiled again and Leo's shoulders relaxed. He hadn't been expecting that kind of response, but then again Newt was a decent shank.

"I get nervous telling her stuff like that, too," Newt continued. Leo blinked stupidly.

"Don't you do it all the time?" he asked. Newt shook his head at the ground.

"I guess, but I still get nervous," he punched Leo's shoulder again. "I get where you're coming from, is what I'm saying."

Leo laughed nervously. This was such a weird conversation. So he did what came naturally. He made it even more weird.

"Aren't you afraid she'll fall in love with me?" he said, and then quickly added: "I mean, not with me, I mean, with someone else! Maybe. I mean, she probably won't but I bet the other guys tell her she's pretty, too." He flinched, but Newt responded as if it were perfectly natural to talk about what would happen if Elizabeth left him for somebody else.

"I'm not afraid of that," he said, looking at Leo with amusement. "And no offense, but you're too young. I don't ever see Elizabeth going for some baby-faced slinthead."

Funny, Leo could argue that Newt had a baby-face, too. He held back a retort, though, and instead asked, "Why not?"

Newt paused again, but it didn't seem to be because he was creeped out by Leo's continued questioning.

"Because," Newt said, "it's love."

"I mean, I guess that makes sense," Leo said. He was feeling bored by the dull conversation. Bored, and a little grossed out. Newt was being so gooey and it was just…ugh. No thank you. Thankfully, Newt seemed to feel the same way, because he laughed again and changed the subject.

"Well, I'm glad you understand. You're an all right shank, Leo," he said. "I think I'm going to take a shower now. It was good talking to you, though. You know where Elizabeth went after you talked to her?"

Oh, klunk this question. This question.

"Uh, I don't know," Leo said. He hoped it sounded more believable than it was.

"That's okay," Newt lifted his hand and gave a two-fingered salute. "See you around, Leo."

"Yeah, around…" Leo nodded goodbye and then turned to walk towards the homestead. He kept his eyes on the ground, glancing up every so often in the direction of the Maze.

"What the klunk were those slintheads thinking?" Minho groaned. His legs were already sore from running earlier, and the way things were going, they were going to have to up their pace to cover more ground. He and Elizabeth had stopped for a quick breather. He handed her the canteen and she drank from it greedily. He looked and tried to see further down the direction they were going, but things were starting to get hazy. He cursed at the disappearing sunlight and kicked the wall.

"We're going to have to go back, soon," he said. Elizabeth wiped the water from her mouth and handed him back the canteen without looking at him.

"I know," she said. Her voice didn't break. She didn't wince at his words. On the outside she was perfectly calm and composed, but Minho knew her well enough to know that she was panicking underneath her tough exterior. She cared about Stoy and Damon too much for that.

When Minho started jogging again, she followed, her breathing labored and intense. It never ceased to amaze him how rarely she complained, and how determined she was to keep up. Never. He knew P.F. and Dalton agreed with him; they sometimes brought it up when talking to her. After Elizabeth told him about Damon and Stoy, Minho had gone to look for the other Runners while Elizabeth informed Nick, but those stupid shanks weren't anywhere he looked, and they were running out of precious daylight so they had been left behind. In hindsight, Minho thought it was a pretty jacked idea to go without them (they could be covering more ground than they were currently), but he also knew it was imperative they find Damon and Stoy before the doors shut.

"DAMON!" he shouted, feeling the breath stolen from his lungs. He was so klunking tired. Why couldn't the bloody idiots have waited until tomorrow's shift to lose themselves?

"STOY!" His shouts were left with nothing but thudding echoes. They turned a corner, and the sun suddenly dipped behind the wall. Minho skidded to a halt and Elizabeth passed him. She looked over her shoulder.

"What are you doing?!" she asked, slowing down only slightly.

"Elizabeth—" Minho began. He was cut off by a piercing shriek and a chilling clanking sound behind him. He dodged away in the nick of time when he whirled around to face the Griever that had sneaked up on him and tried to stick him with its fang. Sweat glistened on Minho's forehead as he pulled out his Griever-sword and deflected the beast's next attack. The air whooshed behind him and he risked a glance back. Elizabeth had been thrown against the wall by a second Griever that had swatted her away like she was nothing. The wind having been knocked out of her, she didn't get up at first, and Minho went to get her, but the first Griever was still attacking him.

"ELIZABETH GET UP!" he yelled. He hoped she'd heard him. She'd be fine if she got up, but she easily could have broken a rib with a hit like that.

One of the walls started shifting, and Minho cursed. "ELIZABETH WE NEED TO GO NOW!" He brought his sword down on the Griever's leg and it shrieked, giving him enough time to turn around and run to Elizabeth, who was standing, but struggling to do anything more than shrink into a nearby ivy the Griever had trouble locating her in and dodge its relentless attacks. Minho slashed at its side it stepped to the side and howled at him, its teeth (if you could call them that) sharp as steel. Minho pushed his way to Elizabeth's side in the ivy. They sank behind the plant and the Grievers seemed to lose them for a second.

"On my count we run," he said over the noise of the two Grievers that were slamming their legs against the wall furiously. Elizabeth nodded, and grabbed his hand. He squeezed it and waited for an opening.

The Grievers had been more or less throwing their limbs on the wall of ivy and on the ground, but when Minho spoke, they zoned in on them. With a sudden scream, they tore into the ivy and Minho lost his hold on Elizabeth's hand. It was now or never.

"RUN!"

He came out of the ivy shouting his own profanities at the Grievers, who immediately lunged for him. Something slashed at his shoulder and the cold warmth of blood ran down his arm. He couldn't see Elizabeth anywhere, all he could see was the slow turn of the Maze's walls, closing in on him. The Grievers were faster than him. It was only a matter of time before they caught up, and there were two of them. There was no way he was getting out of this alive. He closed his eyes and started counting to ten.

"AARGH!"

Minho opened his eyes and P.F. and Dalton sped past him brandishing their Griever-swords and yelling hysterically. When the hell had they got there?

"THIS WAY, MINHO!" P.F. yelled. Minho didn't think twice. He made a sharp u-turn and rounded the corner where P.F. was. Dalton was drawing the Griever away down a different path. He still didn't see Elizabeth.

"Where…when…" he managed. P.F. shook his head and started running beside him.

"Stupid Minho. You guys really should have told us what was going on."

Minho looked behind him. He didn't see anything, but he could still hear the clatter of the Griever's legs.

"Where'd the second one go?" he asked.

"It got trapped behind one of the walls when it moved," P.F. said.

"Where is Elizabeth? Did you see her?" Minho worried that maybe she wasn't able to make it out of the ivy.

"I saw her," P.F. said, "but she was slower, and the one Griever was pretty much on top of her so she had to face it a couple times. She's behind the wall that closed."

Behind the wall that closed. With the other Griever. Alone. Minho let out a frustrated scream.

"We can't go back, now," P.F. said. His voice was grim. "Dalton's leading the other one off. Our goal now is to get back to the Glade."

Minho slowed, his breathing heavy. P.F. slowed on instinct, but didn't look at him.

"S-stop." Minho said between gasps. He stopped and bent over, grabbing his knees. "STOP."

P.F. stopped. His fists were clenched.

"We need…to see if…we can find…"

"Find what, Minho? Another Griever? Those two shucking kids who thought they could laugh their way around the shucking Maze? Hate to break it to you, but they're dead." P.F.'s voice was raising. "They're dead, Minho. And we'll be dead, too if we stop. Hell, maybe we're already dead. The door's probably already closed."

"P.F.—"

"Don't even try giving me some stupid, klunky excuse about how you didn't have enough time to tell us what you were trying to do. Next time you go gallivanting in the Maze for some deadheads do Dalton and I a favor, and let us know." P.F.'s face was red with anger and something else, something that seemed to Minho to be frightened.

"I did. I couldn't find you," Minho said, his own voice angry. P.F. 'tsked.

"Yeah? I was in my shucking shack!" P.F. slammed his fist against the wall, "Look a little harder next time!"

Minho didn't answer. He started running again, because he couldn't talk any more. P.F. was right: this was a mistake.

"Don't you get it?" P.F. was right there, beside him like always, "We're in this together. All of us."

Minho wasn't cheered by the statement. It was something he already knew. "Live together, die together," was something Nick had said in the beginning, but that was just it. Minho didn't want to live in Glade together. He was tired of it. He was tired of everybody. But he didn't want to die together, either.

He didn't want to die at all.

*Special Author's Note

I'm currently in the process of moving and dealing with the death of two of my loved ones. The next chapter may take as long as this one did to get up, or longer, depending. Thank you for your patience, and for your support.