The Labyrinth: Chapter Two


"Are you even listening to me?" Alby raged through gritted teeth. I zoned back into the room. My mind had wandered off to another place, counting down the seconds until I could leave this place. My eyes were fixated on the portrait in the corner of the room. A woman, looked to be in her sixties. Her hair tightly knotted in a bun. A stern expression imprinted on her face. She stared down at me over the head of Alby – the boy that I had been taken to be seen by Jeff.

"Who are you?" The corner of his eye twitched as he demanded the question. I refocused myself and straightened my back. Jeff had ushered me into the smaller building and was forcibly sat on the only available chair in the centre of the room. Surrounding her in a semi-circle sat eleven boys ranging in various heights and weights. I didn't know any one of them. Jeff had left me there, being quickly booted out the room once I had entered.

There were a few bewildered expressions that dominated the area. I hadn't left the room since I arrived, so of course there would have been a rumour flying around that there was a girl here. This was probably the first time they had seen me up close. And others, well, it seemed that I was a rarity in these parts.

The boy, Gally, who had found me, gave me a gruesome grin. His yellow teeth sticking out like a sore thumb. I grimaced at him and turned my nose up at him. I wouldn't spend a second longer indulging someone like that. The way they he conducted himself reminded me of someone. But I could quite put a pin in it. The attitude. The sense that they thought that everyone owed them something. That they should be sat further up. It was a familiar trait. But with a memory block, anything was fair game.

Straightened my back in the chair when I was questioned again. I could tell by the way that he acted that Alby was the leader. The way he threw himself round the room. It didn't take a genius to figure that one out. The other boys stayed silent and allowed him to roam freely around. No one, without authority, could conduct themselves like that. Only a leader would.

"Again, who are you?" Alby's face screwed up from being repeatedly ignored by me. I shook my head. "You don't get a choice in the matter. You speak now."

The boy crept closer. I pulled myself taller in my chair. My eyes darted around for help until they caught the bright eyes of the golden-hair boy I had seen earlier through the window. He must have recognised the fear in my eyes. He rose from his chair and grabbed Alby by the back of the shirt, pulling him with him. "Look mate, askin' the same questions again and again ain't gonna get you the answer. She's not gonna talk. We can figure that out late. Remember some of the boys didn't know their names until days later. Maybe it's the same case here. Move on with ya and actually get to the point of the Gathering."

Alby huffed and pointed a finger in the boy's direction. "Don't interrupt me again, Newt," he warned the boy. Newt replied with a shrug of the shoulders. He leant back on his chair and causally folded his arms.

"Shuck it," Alby seethed, he rubbed his eyes in frustration. "You're right, there is a better way to do this. Ain't no way starting conversations like that." He paused. "The name is Alby." He placed a hand to his chest. "I am the leader of the Glade. That is Newt, second-in-command." He pointed to the golden-hair boy who gave her a small wave. Alby paused again, as if waiting for his next line.

"Man," Alby muttered. He ran a hand over his short hair and let out a deep breath. "I ain't good at this – you're the first Greenbean to arrive since Nick died. Doesn't help that you're a gal. Never had this sorta problem before until your sorry arse showed up. Two years that Box been comin' up with a new Greenie. Like clockwork every month. Not one a gal. Why now?"

"And a week before the actual arrival date," the yellow-tooth boy chimed in.

"Shut it Gally," Alby snapped. Gally blew out hot air and lent back on his chair. A look of disgust plastered on his face. "You know why you here girlie?"

I shook my head in response.

"Of course you don't," Alby's face deepened to a shade of red. "Your memories have been removed. That we know. Happens to all of us. I just want to know the reason for your sudden appearance. There must be one cause stuff like this doesn't happen. Ever. You wouldn't have 'trust no one' on your arm unless there was a reason."

I ducked my head as they turned their attention to the arm that the writing was on. I drew my arm closer to my chest and hugged it.

Alby saw my reaction. "So you do know something?"

I shook my head. I so desperately wanted to speak, but I couldn't will myself to say anything. I had no idea what they were talking about.

"Alby," Newt cautioned from behind.

The Leader clicked his tongue in response. "Shuck it." He turned abruptly and sat back down on his chair. "Whilst you were out cold, the Council here came up with a plan to deal with you. Seeing as you are awake and seemingly alright, you're gonna go through the initiation that every Greenie goes through. I don't care if you are a girlie. Fair is Fair. You've been sent her, so you're gonna earn your place here like the others. Everything works on a good sense of order. Everybody does their part. No slackers. Understand?"

I flicked my eyes to Newt, who seemed the more reasonable one out of the pair. He dipped his head in encouragement for her to nod. So I did.

"Good that." Alby slapped the shoulders of Newt. "Newt here will look after you. He'll keep an eye on everything that you do. Don't want you doin' something that ain't allowed." Alby stood again and addressed the boys in the room. He walked along their line up and down, giving them hard stares. "Now I'm only going to say this once, so you betta listen up and be ready to relay this to your teams. There is to be no funny business. We treat her as the same we treat anyone else. There will be no snide remarks about who she is, about what happened. Boys that cannot stay 'normal' round her will spend three days in the Slammer with only bread and water for company. I ain't joking. I don't want more problems being caused cause someone can't keep their hands to themselves."

"This ain't fair," Gally cut in, his hands spread wide as he contested. All it will take is one weird look and you'll put use in the Slammer. Come on Alby, think a little. We ain't gonna be able to talk around her next.

"Shut it, Gally. Otherwise you'll be the first one there," Alby exploded at him. "We set the example. If we cannot treat everyone equally then the Glade will break apart. Either get that in your head or I'll walk ya there now. Choose."

Gally sat down and shut his mouth, he crossed his arms and stomped the ground with his feet.

"Good choice. Anyone else have any complaints?"

No one said anything.

"That's settled then," Alby grumbled a deeper scowl forming on his face. "We're done. Get back to what you're doing."

And with that, all the Keepers stood up from their chairs and filed out of the room leaving myself, Alby and Newt behind.

"I can't look after her alone," Newt said once the last person left the room. "I can't keep an eye on her and do all the duties. I'm gonna need help."

"Fine," Alby expressed with such emotion. "Get Chuck to help you. He's been desperate to do something to help."

"You think that's wise?" Newt considered with a look of genuine concern in his eyes.

"I don't really care at this point. If it gets the kid from my feet, I would do anything." And with that Alby left the room with a slam of the door. Dust fell from the roof.

"Right." Newt brushed a hand through his long golden hair. I studied his face. He was handsome. Better looking than some of the boys I had already encountered. He was classically beautiful. His hazel eyes twinkled in the ray of light that shone through an opening from the roof. He was muscular, with an athletic build. His shirt causally hanging over the top of his trousers. He placed a hand on his hip. "What to do? You got any ideas?"

I just stared back at him.

"Worth a shot. Come on we betta find Chuckie and give him the good news. I'll explain what's happening on the way." He motioned for me to follow him.

I stood up and take a step after him. Only to fall flat on my face from stepping on my lace. Newt caught this from his eye line. He glanced over his shoulder and I swear I saw a smirk.

"Why haven't you done up your boots?" he asked me. I gawked at him blankly, I couldn't remember how to do them. I shrugged my shoulders. "Come on, I'll do them for you this time."

He motioned for me to sit back down on the chair. He took my laces in his hand and started to tie them up. "Gosh, these look worn through. What had you been doing in these beforehand?" He paused. "Don't bother, I know you don't know."

He stood up when he was done. "Right let's go." He walked out of the room and I darted from the chair and chased after, not wanting to be left alone in the room. I didn't get too close to him, but made sure that I was a distance enough that I could hide behind him or bolt from him.

Newt led me outside into, what they called, the Glade. With a capital 'G'. The day was brighter now, with all the boys hard at work. A few turned their heads as we walked past. None dared to come near or make even a sound toward me.

I noticed, as I followed the golden-hair boy that he had a profound limp. It didn't slow him down, but it was noticeable enough that whatever had caused it must have been a big accident. I wasn't surprised, this seemed like a place where things like that could happen from my quick survey of it.

We continued walking until I returned to where I had had a showered earlier. Newt didn't stop and walked to straight inside of the building. "Chuck you in here? Where is that wee little shank?"

A head poked round the side of the building.

Our eyes connected and the boy comes out from behind the wall. He was a short and pudgy boy, with long curly brown hair that hung down over his ears and neck, scraping the tips of his shoulder. Blue eyes shone through an otherwise pitiful face, flabby and flushed. The boys mouth hung open and with a stubby little finger he pointed straight at me. "You're the girl."

"Aren't you observant?" Newt said as he lent up against the doorframe. There was a period of silence. "You gonna introduce yourself?"

"Erm …" the young boy side eyed Newt then looked back at me. "The name's Chuck. I'm a Greenbean. Well I was until he showed up. So that would not make me one. Just a regularly Glader now. So that means people will call me Chuck and–"

"Chuck, I'm not gonna tell you again about going off on one," Newt sighed. He rolled his eyes at the boy. "Short and sweet, I've told ya this before."

The boy nodded furiously. "Yeah, sorry Newt. I forgot." Chuck shuffled on his feet and stuffed his hands in his pocket. "Anyway, what's your name?"

I didn't reply. But gave him a limp smile.

"Why don't you talk?" Chuck questioned immediately after I didn't speak.

"Chuck," Newt warned.

Chuck blushed and looked to the floor. "Sorry again. it's just no one's heard you talk. Ben saying you do, but he lies a lot. So he can't trust him. Anyway, his lies caught up with him. He's sick now."

"For God's sake, Chuck," Newt snapped at him. "How many times to I have to warn ya?"

"No, please don't make me clean up the Slaughterhouse. I'll be good," Chuck pleaded with the older boy. I raised an eyebrow. I could gather what the Slaughterhouse might have entailed, but to make this twelve-year-old clean up seemed a little extreme.

"I'm not gonna make you do that," Newt reassured. "Yet." He pushed himself of the doorframe and walked closer to us. "I've got a new job for you. I'm gonna have to show Greenie here the ropes for a bit until everything has settled. I can't do it on my own, so you've been asked to help."

Chuck's eyes brightened, a goofy smile erupting on his face. "You don't have to tell me twice" he cheered. He threw the rag he was holding to the ground and brushed his trousers with his hands. "When do we start?"

"You start," Newt began. "When you're done with your jobs. Come find us after the shower and toilets have been cleaned thoroughly. Understood?"

"Yep, I'll do it now." Chuck picked up the rag from the floor and sprinted inside. "I'll make it real nice and clean."

Newt shook his head, trying to head the amusement from the boy. "You'll get used to him," he told me. He walked past me and I followed him, this time standing beside him. "I'll give you a quick tour, then I'll take ya to your first posting. It won't be hard. I'm gonna put ya with Clint and Jeff cause it's easier and they can make sure that you're not still whacked in the head. Win win situation."

We started at the Box, which was currently closed — double doors of metal lying flat on the ground, covered in white paint, faded and cracked. The day had brightened considerably, the shadows stretching in the opposite direction from what I had seen yesterday. I still hadn't spotted the sun, but it looked like it was about to pop over the eastern wall at any minute.

Newt pointed down at the doors. "This here's the Box. Once a month, we get a Newbie like you, never fails. Once a week, we get supplies, clothes, some food. Ain't needin' a lot—pretty much run ourselves in the Glade." Newt paused. "Well, it did fail but I can't tell you why that happened. That's for you to remember one day."

"We don't know jack about the Box, you get me?" Newt continued. "Where it came from, how it gets here, who's in charge. The shanks that sent us here ain't told us nothin'. We got all the electricity we need, grow and raise most of our food, get clothes and such. Tried to send a slinthead Greenie back in the Box one time—thing wouldn't move till we took him out." Newt laughed to himself as if he was reminiscing on the moment.

Odd thing to laugh at.

An overwhelming feeling came over me, like a sense of dread suddenly appearing like a bad omen. I drew my arms into my chest and rubbed them for comfort. I swear, there were tears threatening to fall at the corners of my eyes. Please don't do this. Not now.

Newt noticed my sudden change in emotion. He came a little closer, not ever changing his stance but changing the approach instead.

"Today is day one for you. It'll become easier as the days roll over. Everyone struggles at first. Even Gally did. You'll get used to it. once you find your job everything will be fine. You'll be fine. Give it time."

There was nothing I could say. I examined him. He had a kind face. Even with a small scar above his lip, it was still kind. That made me want to believe him. I nodded and gave him a weak smile.

He smiled back. "Another expression, you really are spoiling me today."

He winked at me. I felt a warmth inside of me and flush in my face. Eh?

"Right let me tell you the first rule. You see them openings." He pointed to the one behind him. I nodded. "Good, do not go beyond them. Only the runners are allowed. The second is to not another Glader, we all have to live here in peace so we trust everyone. And the final one is everyone does their part. Go it."

I nod again, taking in the rules.

"Good that," Newt smiled. "Glade's split into four sections." He held up his fingers as he counted off the next four words. "Gardens, Blood House, Homestead, Deadheads. You got that?"

I hesitated, then shook my head, confused.

He pointed to the northeast corner, where the fields and fruit trees were located. "Gardens—where we grow the crops. Water 's pumped in through pipes in the ground—always has been, or we'd have starved to death a long time ago. Never rains here. Never." He pointed to the southeast corner, at the animal pens and barn. "Blood House—where we raise and slaughter animals." He pointed at the pitiful living quarters. "Homestead—stupid place is twice as big than when the first of us got here because we keep addin' to it when they send us wood and klunk. Ain't pretty, but it works. Most of us sleep outside anyway."

I felt dizzy. So many questions splintered my mind I couldn't keep them straight.

Newt pointed to the southwest corner, the forest area fronted with several sickly trees and benches. "Call that the Deadheads. Graveyard's back in that corner, in the thicker woods. Ain't much else. You can go there to sit and rest, hang out, whatever." He cleared his throat, as if wanting to change subjects. "You'll spend the next two weeks working one day apiece for our different job Keepers—until we know what you're best at. Slopper, Bricknick, Bagger, Track-hoe—somethin'll stick, always does. Come on."

Newt walked toward the South Door, located between what he'd called the Deadheads and the Blood House. I followed, wrinkling my nose up at the sudden smell of dirt and manure coming from the animal pens.

Graveyard? Why do they need a graveyard in a place full of teenagers?

That disturbed me even more than not knowing some of the words Newt kept saying —words like Slopper and Bagger—that didn't sound so good.

Frustrated, I turned my attention to the pens in the Blood House area. Several cows nibbled and chewed at a trough full of greenish hay. Pigs lounged in a muddy pit, an occasionally flickering tail the only sign they were alive. Another pen held sheep, and there were chicken coops and turkey cages as well. Workers bustled about the area, looking as if they'd spent their whole lives on a farm.

Why do I remember these animals?

Nothing about them seemed new or interesting—I knew what they were called, what they normally ate, what they looked like. Why was stuff like that still lodged in my memory, but not where he'd seen animals before, or with whom? My memory loss was baffling in its complexity.

Newt pointed to the large barn in the back corner, its red paint long faded to a dull rust colour. "Back there's where the Slicers work. Nasty stuff, that. Nasty. If you like blood, you can be a Slicer."

I shook my head. Slicer didn't sound good at all. As we kept walking, I focused my attention on the other side of the Glade, the section Newt had called the Deadheads. The trees grew thicker and denser the farther back in the corner they went, more alive and fuller of leaves. Dark shadows filled the depths of the wooded area, despite the time of day. I looked up, squinting to see that the sun was finally visible, though it looked odd—more orange than it should be. It hit me that this was yet another example of the odd selective memory in my mind. I returned my gaze to the Deadheads, a glowing disk still floating in my vision. Blinking to clear it away, I suddenly caught the red lights again, flickering and skittering about deep in the darkness of the woods.

What was that?

Newt stopped walking, and I was surprised to see we had reached the South Door; the two walls bracketing the exit towered above them. The thick slabs of grey stone were cracked and covered in ivy, as ancient as anything I could imagine. I craned my neck to see the top of the walls far above; my mind spun with the odd sensation that he was looking down, not up. I staggered back a step, awed once again by the structure of my new home, then finally returned my attention to Newt, who had his back to the exit.

"Out there's the Maze." Newt jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, then paused. I stared in that direction, through the gap in the walls that served as an exit from the Glade.

Newt continued. "Two years, I've been here. Ain't none been here longer. The few before me are already dead. Two years we've tried to solve this thing, no luck. Shuckin' walls move out there at night just as much as these here doors. Mappin' it out ain't easy, ain't easy nohow." He nodded toward a concrete-blocked building in the far corner of the Glade.

A stab of pain sliced through my head—there were too many things to compute at once. They'd been here two years? The walls moved out in the Maze? How many had died? I stepped forward, wanting to see the Maze for myself, as if the answers were printed on the walls out there.

Newt held out a hand and guided me backpacks without touching me. "Ain't no goin' out there, Greenie."

I raised my eyebrow in response.

"That's the Number One Rule, the only one you'll never be forgiven for breaking. Ain't nobody—nobody—allowed in the Maze except the Runners. Break that rule, and if you ain't killed by the Grievers, we'll kill you ourselves, you get me?"

Grievers. A confused look cast over my face.

"Ah, that I'll arrange–"

Newt was cut off when a sudden piercing scream ripped through the air. High and shrill, the barely human shriek echoed across the stone walls. Every kind in sight turned to look towards the source. I felt her blood turn to icy slush as released the scream resided in the Homestead. I crossed my arms over my chest and hugged myself. I felt a ping in the back of my neck, something of an old wound sensing a similar danger all over again.

"Crap," Newt whispered. He came to stand beside me. "I have to go help. Damn Chuck he should have finished when he was told too."

Newt glanced around and bit the end of his lip. "I can't leave ya out of sight. Gonna have to end the tour early. I'll take ya back to your room. If I see Chuckie, I'll send him up keep ya company until we can carry on."

He went to take my arm and I flinched away. Newt drew back his hand with a on his face. "Sorry," he said. "I … sorry."

Newt walked off, me trailed close behind him, guiding me back to my room. As we get closer, the screaming amplified. The natural reaction was to hide behind Newt, making sure that I didn't get too close to him. He peered over his shoulder. "It's alright," he reassured. "Ben's just hurt. Got into an accident the other day. Nothing serious, just an accident." He repeated the last bit, possibly for more his reassurance than my own.

We entered the Homestead and walked up the creaky stairs. As soon as Newt opened the door for me, I darted past him and slammed the thing shut in his face. I dove for the bed and covered myself with the sheet. There was no explanation as to why I was so scared. Something in my gut nagged at me, telling me that those types of screams were not normal. I knew that. It was as if I had heard them before.

I heard the door click open. "Goodbye to you too Greenie," Newt mocked. He shut the door.

The screaming continued. No matter how hard I dug my hands into the side of my head, I couldn't drown it out. It tore right through me.

Some place this was.


A metallic clicking sound startled me from my sleep. For the quietness of the place, the noise sounded was a strange part to be woken too. On the brief tour of yesterday, I didn't remember seeing anything that would even remotely have that type of sound. It almost sounded like I was back in the Box. I bolted upright, the cot swaying with the sudden movement.

Four wooden walls and one door.

Relief flooded me. I still was in the room I fell asleep in.

I screwed my eyebrows together. It was quieter now, with the hustle and bustle outside the only source of noise. Ben's screams had stopped. Thank goodness.

click-click-click.

The sound came again. I snapped my head to where the source came from. There, curled in the top right corner of the room, was a long metallic creature staring straight at me. It was completely silver, with twelve protruding legs clung to the wall. A bright, blinding light shone as the creature's beady eyes. Along the length of its back, etched in a deep red colour, was the word again. WICKED.

I stared at the creature. I sensed it stared back at me. I had no idea what to do. It kept staring at me. I didn't think that it would attack. But the creature was large enough that it wouldn't take more than a second to rip of face off. That was if it had a mouth, which I couldn't see.

My limbs froze into place.

What do I do?

The legs of the creature twitched, the antennas dipping as it brushed the ceiling. It moved ever so slightly. The red eyes refocusing and for a moment dazed me as it looked directly into my eyes. I knew it was watching. I had that feeling.

The window was the only way that creature got in. It must have scuttled up the side of the Homestead and nestled itself in the corner to keep dry. Though it never rains here.

It twitched further. I sucked in a sharp breath and willed the creature to go away. How was I going to ask for help if I couldn't move? I knew I could talk. That wasn't the issue. It was trying to actually force myself too. Maybe this was the moment I needed to force myself to say more than a couple of words.

I dug my nails into the palm of my hands to force myself to feel something. All the time I kept my eyes on the creature. It was big enough that I couldn't lose sight of it. Though I hadn't seen it move. For all I knew, it was waiting for me to be distracted for it to pounce and kill me.

Typical. Just typical.

The sound of someone walking up the stairs caught my attention. The footsteps lighter than usual. I stared down the creature, not letting the noise take my full attention away. I so desperately wanted to shout for help, but my voice caught itself in a lump in my throat. I glared at the creature. This was the cause of my problems currently. This was the reason why I couldn't talk.

The door clicked open and I flicked my eyes to the door handle moving downwards. The creature moving snapped my attention back to it. It scuttled along the beams of the wall. It must have sensed the door was opening.

I unfroze. The life coming back into me.

Without a thought, I grabbed the corner of the pillow and launched it straight for the creature.

It was faster than my throw.

The pillow smacked the wall above the door, missing the creature by inches as it scuttled out of the room and into the main part of the Homestead. The pillow fell to the ground, narrowly missing Chuck as he entered the room with a tray in his hand.

He jumped. Almost knocking everything of the tray as he banged into the open door. He glared at me. "Watch it!"

Chuck didn't seem faced by the creature scuttling above him and out of the room. He plodded in and dropped the tray of food on the table. I kept my eyes fixated on the door, expecting it to pop back around into the room again.

Chuck glanced at me, then the doorway. He waved his hand in dismissal. "That's one of them beetle blades," he informed me. "They won't hurt ya unless you're stupid enough to touch one of them." He paused. Shank. He didn't seem comfortable saying the last word. It seemed he hadn't quite grasped the slang that the boys used.

"I bought you food," he continued. You slept the rest of yesterday. Newt said to leave ya alone. There was no point waking you up. Betta start with a full day then a few hours where nothing can be done."

He divided the food out between the two plates, giving each one an equal share. "Frypan said that you shouldn't get used to this. He's only willing to do this a few times. Said it wasn't fair on the others who couldn't have breakfast in bed."

"Dunno how you slept in though," he carried on. Not taking a moment to let a thought pass him by. "Ben's been screaming all night, sicker than a dog."

The small boy offered me the plate filled with food and a fork stuck in the middle of it. He took his and sat on the floor, between each bite he carried on talking.

"They got him real good. The Grievers. Don't worry, he won't die from it. if ya get back in time. They have a nasty sting, but if ya get the Serum then you're all good." He paused to swallow his food. "I don't really mean good. I mean they just hurt a lot. Ben's probably in a lot of pain."

You talk a lot, I heard myself say to him.

Chuck chocked on his food. He banged his chest a couple of times until his throat cleared. He grabbed the glass of water from the table and gulped the water down until it was finished. He wiped his mouth and then stared at me. His chubby cheeks flushed red.

"You spoke," was all he could stutter. He wasn't lying.

I gave him a small smile and carried on with my meal as if nothing had happened.

"I knew you would speak. Will you talk more? Say anything. Anything. What's your name?"

My hand froze mid-air at the request. They were adamant in knowing my name. I hadn't told anyone yet. I barely knew them. I hadn't sussed the boys out yet to warrant giving them something of such value to me. I only spoke to the kid because he talked to much.

Not now. Give it time.

She shook her head and continued to eat her food. "Patience," I allowed her croaky voice to speak. "You should have some patience."