The Labyrinth: Chapter Eight
The next morning I was reassigned back to the Gardens. Not so much as the work I was doing the previous day (Newt had made that very clear upon seeing my look of disapproval in the morning). This time I was spent with the 'nuts and bolts' of the operation. To really know what there were two sides to the Gardens.
"You're lazy," was what I told to him. I knew what he was doing. The Greenie was spending the day in the Gardens, so in Newt's head it must have made sense to stick me there as well. Why make a whole new timetable when he could shove me with the Greenie. Here's to repeating days again.
Newt huffed and ignored my comment, leaving the room with the intention of me following. I stuffed my feet into my boots and chased after him. I knew where I was going, but after last night I was intent on staying near people that I trusted. Gally was a character that I didn't want to mess with again. Spending all night trying to stop myself shaking was one night too many. That was something I wouldn't go through again.
The repetitiveness of my task kept my occupied most of the day. The Keeper of the Gardens – Andy – had me sorting through the different seeds that they had and placing them into the correct jars for future use, planting squash and courgette seeds and picking the various different fruit and vegetables. He informed me that the Glade grew their own fruit and vegetables, and it was his responsibility to make sure that there was enough for Frypan to use in the Kitchen. It was the one of the few things that was not delivered in the weekly supplies which made sense as there was nowhere to store them even if they did arrive.
The Greenie was completing the work I had done the previous day. There was some enjoyment gained when watching him struggle with the tasks that Zart had instructed him to do. He worked hard, but you could see in his grubby face that he did not want to be there.
I kept my distance from the Greenie. Ever since seeing him in my dreams, I felt there was something odd about him. Something that he wasn't telling us. Not like he knew what to say, his memories were gone like the rest of us. Well, that's as far as we knew. The Greenie hadn't noticed my sudden disdain for him. He barely acknowledged anyone in the Glade unless they were important to him. I clearly was of no importance, so it meant staying away was far easier.
Despite my complaints about the actual job, it was far less strenuous than working with Zart. It required very little amount of physical labour that the Track-Hoes did. That I didn't mind. It meant that I sweated less and could almost enjoy the day. The Gardens were still not for me, but my aptitude for it didn't go unnoticed. I had overheard a conversation between Zart and Andy about how much I was able to do without instruction. The comment I heard was that I was a natural at this job.
That made my heart sink. I knew deep down this wasn't where I was supposed to be. I just couldn't figure out what I was supposed to do. Whatever I was doing seemed more like a side job than an actual job that I enjoyed. Something I did on the side than actually put full effort in. That is if I did this type of thing before the wipe. I had no clue.
I was on my second run of the afternoon with fruit and veggies when I spotted Newt hunched over himself chewing his nails furiously. I balanced the basket onto my hips and bent down to face him. His hair was crumbled to one side, his eyes bloodshot, the creases on his forehead deep. Newt, simply, was a mess.
Newt just stared at me. His fingers now bloody from the relentless chewing of them. I dipped my hand into the basket and pulled out a fresh apple for him. He shook his head and I replaced it.
"What's got you like this?" I asked him as I lowered myself onto my knees, the basket now resting on the ground. "You don't seem the type to worry."
"Everythin'," he muttered. He stared off into space for a long moment. I almost pushed him with another question, but Newt continued. "You turning up as you were. Ben sayin' he's seen Tommy before. The note that came with him. Coma-kid. And you're warning. I'm tellin' ya, something's not right at the moment."
"You'll figure it out," I reassured him the best I could. "It's all just happened."
Newt let out a long sigh. "Shuck it. But that's not what really buggin' me."
"Then what is it?" I asked him.
He pointed to the opening of the Maze. "Alby and Minho," he muttered. "They should've come back hours ago."
I shifted myself and sat beside him. We both stared at the entrances for a while. The sound of the Gladers working keeping the silence at bay. Newt continued to fiddle with his hands, occasionally nipping at the skin of his fingers until he drew blood.
"They'll be fine. Maybe they found something more interesting," I offered as a solution.
"Noon," Newt stated. "They were to come back at noon after getting to the dead Griever and explore for an hour or two."
"So…"
"So?" Newt repeated. "They should have been back by now."
"Why don't you just go in the Maze and find them?" I asked. "Surely there are more than just your Runners that know the thing?"
I never forgot the look Newt gave me. The worry in his face morphed into outright horror. His cheeks sunk into his face, becoming sallow and dark. It gradually passed after the initial shock of the comment.
"Sending out search parties is not allowed," New informed. "Don't want more people getting lost out there. We can't do that."
Newt shook his head and continued to fidget and stare at the open Doors.
There was one thing that I managed to pick from him. One unmistakable emotion that he couldn't hide. There was no mistaken the fear that crossed his face.
Newt was terrified of the Maze.
Whatever had happened to him out there, he had never recovered from it. No one else in the Glade gave that type of expression when they discussed the world beyond the Walls.
I put the thought to the back of my mind and continued with my errand. There was only so long I could dwell on the matter.
That night proved to be a solemn affair, the food being the least of the problem. Frypan had served a grand meal for everyone. Including (according to Chuck) steak, mashed potatoes, my green beans and rolls that went by the name of 'hot rolls'. The comments made about the Cook's cooking, I came to understand, merely just jokes played by the Gladers. For if they really were real, then usually the lot wouldn't have gone for seconds or thirds. Tonight, with the news spreading that the Leader and Keeper yet to return, the Gladers ate like dead men resurrected for one last meal before being sent to live with the devil.
The Runners had returned at their normal time, being ushered in by the manic Newt who rushed from Door to Door as they entered the Glade. He had stopped trying to hide his panic from everyone. But Alby and Minho never appeared. Newt had forced the Gladers to eat Frypan's hard-earned dinner, but insisted that he stand watch for the missing duo. No one said it, but they all thought it. The Doors would close soon.
I followed the orders set by Newt and grabbed the hot meal from the Kitchen. I joined the table made up of Winston, the Greenie and Chuck. The latter trying in vain to get a conversation started.
"What's up with you?" Winston and the Greenie ignored him. The Greenie who stared at the open Walls instead of engaging in conversation.
"Tired I guess," I mumbled in the lowest voice I could. The Greenie didn't react to hearing me speak, he was too entranced by the Doors. Chuck noticed this too and shuffled up the bench to face me.
"Me too. I spent all day scrubbing the bathroom floor for Gally to get it all mucky in five seconds," Chuck moaned. He forcefully stabbed his fork into the meat, demonstrating his anger. Still nothing from the Greenie, only the occasionally movement when he ate.
Chuck leaned in closer to me. "And he's being annoying." He flicked the end of his fork in the direction of the Greenie. "He keeps saying that he wants to be a Runner. It's driving me insane."
I cast an eye at the boy. The sandy-brown hair sending chills down my back. I shook my head attempting to disperse the feeling. "Just ignore it," I commentated. "He's only being like that cause he thinks he's been sent here to deliver us from something."
Confusion marked Chuck's face.
"Do you think it's a little odd that people recognise him," I whispered to the boy. "And the way he holds himself. Memory wipe or not, his body remembers something and it ain't good."
Chuck opened his mouth to reply when the Greenie spoke. "What you two talking about?"
We both sat up straight and stared down at our food, like small children caught in the action of doing something they shouldn't be by their parents.
"You're talking about something," he insisted. "I can hear you whisper."
"I was just saying," Chuck started, taking the lead on the talking. "I was just saying about the dead Griever."
The Greenie arched an eyebrow. "What about the dead Griever?"
"It's dead, right?"
"That's what everyone has heard."
"Well…" Chuck drew out the word. "I asked Clarke what does she think killed it."
There was a pause. "What do you mean?"
"Those stupid things don't just end up dead."
There was no reply from either of us. I hadn't considered the question. Chuck was a good liar when it came to it.
"I can't stand this, sitting here while they're out there missing." The Greenie dropped his fork on the plate. "I'm going over to watch the Doors with Newt." He stood up from the table and headed in the direction of Newt.
I got the sense that I should follow too. Newt needed people around him to calm him down. Not surprising that Chuck also stood up and joined in gathering the plates and bounding to Frypan with them. His intentions were probably different.
The Greenie and I had fallen into familiar steps as we followed the boy to where Newt paced, leaving the young boy behind.
We got three paces when the Greenie said to me, "I know what you said to him. You don't trust me."
I hadn't expected that from the Greenie. The words almost felt like a punch in the gut. He must have heard what Chuck and I were talking about. He had heard me talk. Our pace had fallen to a slow meander. A sicking feeling formed at the base of my stomach. The food churning, threatening to realise itself at the Greenie's comment. How could I be so stupid into talking about it when he was right there. I generally thought he didn't care about that sort of thing.
"I didn't mean it," I blurted out.
The Greenie stopped dead and grabbed hold of my arm, forcing me to stop as well. I gasped from the reaction and yanked my arm away. I held it behind me, trying to keep them as far away from grabbing distance, and stepped back shaking my head furiously. "Don't touch me," I warned him in a low voice.
"Why don't you like me?" the Greenie persisted, ignoring my warning. "I haven't done anything to you."
"I … uh," I stuttered. The words wouldn't form in my mouth. How could I explain everything without sounding crazy? "You. I've seen you."
The Greenie stepped back in astonishment. "Seen me? Where?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "All I know it wasn't good."
Astonishment turned into confusion. "How can you have seen me if you haven't been through the Changing?"
"My dreams."
"Dreams?" the Greenie repeated. "Don't be silly. Dreams are made up. They aren't real. You're just probably thinking about me at night then I appear in them."
"What?" I was taken back by what he said. "Ew I didn't mean it in that way. I'm not thinking of you when I go to bed."
"Well then why am I in your dreams?"
"I dunno. I saw someone with your hair colour."
The Greenie laughed. "So you don't even know if it is even me. They're just dreams, Clarke. They aren't real."
"They felt real," I whispered.
"Mine do too. Doesn't mean they are."
I paused. How could I be so stupid? I covered my face with my hands from embarrassment. I groaned. "This is so embarrassing." I forced my hands down and faced him a second later. Better get this over with. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. My head … I just don't know what to trust these days."
"Forget it," the Greenie dismissed. "It's not like you were trying to make my life a misery."
"Fresh start?" I stuck out my hand.
He accepted. "Fresh start."
"By the way, I'm glad you decided to speak to me Clarke. Even if it was to sort a misunderstanding."
"Yeah. It's getting harder to stop myself," I admitted. I still felt embarrassed. That was a mistake I wasn't making again. I should have listened to Gally. I haven't been through the Changing. I didn't have memories. The Glade is making my dream them.
However, there was a small part of me that didn't trust the boy.
We carried on until we found Newt by the West Door, pacing furiously up and down and continually running his hands through his hair. He looked up when the Greenie, I and the now caught up Chuck approached him. "Where are they?" Newt strained in a weak voice.
"Why don't we send out a search party?" the Greenie offered. The idea had been mine earlier, but I knew better than to suggest it again. I couldn't face the reaction all over again.
"Bloody he–" Newt stopped himself before he said anything further. He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. "We can't. Okay? I don't want to hear that again. One hundred percent against the rules. Especially with the Doors about to close."
"When did you last eat?" I asked him, taking a few steps forward to try and stop him from pacing. "Food will help you settle. Even water."
"I'm not hungry," Newt insisted, attempting to bypass me to continue. "That can wait."
"I'll get you some. Food will help." Ignored him completely and left the area, leaving the conversation to find the boy some much needed food. I trotted back to the Kitchens, hoping to catch Frypan before he dealt with the remaining left overs. I knew there would be some, and most definitely Newt needed it.
Every step that I took toward the Kitchens narrowed in front of me. The edges of my sight fogging the nearer I got. I shook my head, trying to knock whatever had started to take over. A dull ache thudded at the base of my head, slowly spreading upwards and throughout. I shut my eyes briefly and held my head in my hand, hoping that it would pass as quickly as it came on. Someone must have spotted me for the next thing I knew I felt a light tap on my shoulder.
"You alright?" Jeff whispered. I cracked my eyes open, the headache halted where it was and the pain settled in my stomach, churning the food within.
"No," I whispered. "I feel sick."
"Oh uh," Jeff stepped back. "Go to the toilets, I don't do sick."
"Some Med-Jack you are." I brushed past him and headed in the direction of the toilets to try and settle my stomach. That feeling wasn't urgent. Just yet. Then, I was heading in the wrong direction and the headache spread further. This time on a faster scale.
This wasn't the direction to the toilets.
My feet kept walking. Faster with every step. I tried to stop myself, forcing my feet to turn in the right direction. They refused to listen. They kept walking, past the Gardens where I had spent the day. Past a small coop of chickens that minded their own business, making soft noises at one another. And past the outer part of the apple trees.
No matter how much I strained with effort to stop myself, I kept moving.
Closer.
And closer.
Until I walked right over the threshold into the Maze through the East Door.
The headache, it raged on. As if it took over every part of me. I tried to scream. I tried to force myself to stop.
Nothing.
Trapped in my own body.
The tightness in my chest swelled. My breathing quickened the further I walked into the Maze. The coldness bashing against me. Nipping at my bear arms. The hair standing on end.
The noise of the chickens died out swiftly, replaced by a low moan from deep within the Maze.
Still I kept walking.
My breathing unsteady. Tears threatening to fall, but couldn't.
What is happening to me?
Help me!
I came to an abrupt stop at the end of the corridor. My feet stuck to the ground like they had been caught in cement. My arms frozen to my side, unresponsive and refusing to listen to anything that I commanded it to do. The only thing that I had any control over were my eyes. Even then I was only subjected to the wall of the Maze and the two directions that one could go given the choice.
The wind whistled and moaned past from both directions. Here the light was gone, the Maze sucking out all existence from it.
Despite the loss of all bodily function, my mind was clear and I knew one thing. This was not me that lead me here.
My heart threatened to burst from my chest. Everything around me blurred.
No matter how much I strained to force myself to move. I stood frozen in place, facing the wall of the Maze moments before it was to close.
The Doors.
Fear hadn't paralysed me. The paralysis had created fear in me.
What is going on?
Why can't I move?
I strained again, this time wishing anything would move.
Come on. Anything please.
Just move.
A twitch from the end of one of my fingers flooded me with some relief. Whatever had control over me was not all that powerful.
Come on. I need more than this.
I refocused, the bounding headache lighting itself on fire in my head. I closed my eyes and attempted to settle my breathing. If I took that back, calmed myself, then maybe I could fight whatever had this hold over me. I wasn't going to be left here after the Doors closed because some fairy used its mind tricks on me.
Breath.
Deep breath in.
Deep breath out.
In.
I felt my body tremble. That was a good sign.
Out.
My hand flexed. The knuckles bending when I instructed it too.
Great. Not what I needed to move.
I concentrated harder. Pushing back against the headache, forcing it from the centre of my head where the epicentre now took a hold. A sensation in my nose trickled down. The instinct to wipe whatever flowed out itched at me, but on my hand move. The rest of the arm refused to follow. Soon enough, the moment that I felt it, the warm liquid flooded from my nose and down over my lips and onto my chin. I felt every drop fall from my chin, onto my shirt and possibly onto the floor.
This reaction wasn't normal. Something was fighting against me in my own head, and now I was having nosebleeds from it. I fought harder. The force trying its best to bound against my defence. It raged, spat and forked its way back, like whispers of whips trying to force me back into the corner it had pushed me to.
The harder I pushed, the more I felt my face react with how I felt. My cheeks pinched together. My forehead creased with the strain. My lips parted, thought my teeth refused too. The liquid flowed into my mouth, the coopery taste stinging the ends of my tongue as it seeped past my teeth. Blood. I breathed out, forcing the mixture of spit and blood from my mouth.
I imagined myself grasping the whispers of whips and lacerating it with my bare hands. Ripping them apart with every attack they gave, not caring how much it hurt each time struck. An unhuman growl erupted from within as I regained control.
Still, my teeth wouldn't part.
I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed against the invisible force. It was as if I was trying to wade through a strong current of water. With each tense muscle that I pushed, it pushed back harder. I almost cried in frustration. My arms were nearly halfway up in the air, my knees bending as if to move.
A loud boom sounded from all directions, vibrating throughout me. Then came the crunching, grinding sound of stone rubbing against itself.
The Doors were closing for the night.
With one final push, I freed myself from my frozen state and flung myself to the floor. Relief followed quickly by urgency flood through me.
Danger hadn't passed yet.
I jumped from the floor and sprinted as hard as I could to the closing gap of safety. As I run, I wiped away the blood from my face, covering my arm and shirt with it. That was something I could worry about later. The only goal I had in mind was getting through the Doors before they shut.
I did not want to be trapped out here.
I had witnessed Ben. I had seen the creatures. I didn't want to be another grave in their graveyard. Another story they told to everyone.
Two feet away when I was thrown to the ground by a force from behind. The first thing I thought of was that I was trapped in my own body again. But the wildness from my back, and the sharp pains I felt poking my skin told me otherwise.
Metallic rods pierced the ground around my face, and a squeal erupted close to my ear, nearly erupting the eardrum. I cringed at first then spun of my back to be greeted by a very angry Beetle Blade. Its eyes twitched everywhere, it's legs thrusting and curling round my body. Sounds of metallic footsteps echoed above me and more of the creatures joined in. The scuttled along the walls and on the floor. Heading straight in my direction.
I didn't have time to panic. Had to get it off and through the Doors.
Time. I was running out of time.
I tried to kick the creature off. But as soon as I lifted my leg, another had jumped on and forced it down. I wiggled, squirmed and yanked the creature off. I threw it at an approaching creature, knocking both of course into a flurry of others.
The opportunity rose. I yanked the one that attempted to wrap itself round my legs, again threw it another group and jumped from the ground. I stumbled to the Doors. The motion of me trying to escape throwing me of quilter.
A creature jumped. I swatted it away.
I glanced to the West Door. A small cluster of Gladers had formed at the mouth. A few more darting from the tables of the Kitchens to the entrance.
They aren't going be happy. Call them.
"Newt!" I screamed as two creatures clutched my leg and forced me to fall to the ground. They surrounded me and tightly wound themselves round my legs until they restricted any movement. I dug my fingernails into the ground and held on tight as they attempted to drag me back. Another Beetle Blade scuttled onto my back and placed itself onto my arm. Another joined, restricting my other arm until the only thing left to move was my head.
I glanced up. A few heads had turned my direction as they tried to find the source of the noise. The crowd parted and a lean figure with golden-hair barged through. They had heard.
Again.
The rods appeared. A tear fell from my eyes. Not like this. I didn't want to die like this.
"Help me!" I cried, this time louder, longer and clearer. "NEWT!"
I cast one last look in the direction. Newt, and a few others, were sprinting from the East Door in my direction.
Come on. Don't wait to be saved.
I screamed in anger and pushed myself up from the floor. The Beetle Blade's were strong, but I was stronger. I grabbed hold of the two that were on my arms and flung them both at the wall. I dug my nails into the two that bound my legs and ripped them until a strange fluid oozed from them. I booted them both into the Maze. The rest of the creatures that followed read the message fast and scattered in all directions.
'Come near me and I'll do the same to you' was the clear message.
As quickly as they arrived, they soon turned on their tails and scuttled away again deep into the Maze.
"Clarke!" Newt's voice echoed of the walls.
I spun on my heel and darted to the Doors. The gap smaller, but not too small for me.
We both arrived at the same time.
Him in the Glade.
Me in the Maze.
The rods on the right wall seemed to reach like stretched-out arms for their home, grasping for those little holes that would serve as their resting place for the night. The crunching, grinding sound of the Doors filled the air, deafening.
I could do it. I could make it. This wasn't my fate.
I shuffled into the gap when Newt's voice flew through the air. "Stop!" he commanded from the other side. "You'll be crushed."
"No!" I shouted back. "I'll make it!"
"Go back!" Newt commanded again. "Don't do it. That's not a way to die."
I stopped moving. The walls very close to my face now. I spun my head. He was right. There was too far to go and not enough time to get there.
"Get out."
"No," I retorted. "I won't die out there. I'd rather die here. Being crushed."
"Get out!" Newt screamed louder with more urgency in his voice.
Not like this. Don't crush us.
The fear in it knocked me to my senses. My chest tightened and I imagined how slowly and painful it would be to be crushed. I pulled myself out from the Doors and placed a hand on the wall to steady myself. Everything blurred. I bent over. My breathing…
"Clarke, you'll be okay!" Newt shouted from the other end. The slit grew smaller to the point I could just about see him. He had bent to my height. I barely made him out through the fogginess, but I knew he was trying to keep any emotion back. "You'll be fine."
"No I won't," I strained against trying to catch my breath. "I'm going to die."
I sob escaped and caught on my throat. "I don't want to die," I whispered, hoping that he would hear it.
The light of the Glade drew itself back in as now only a small part of Newt's face could be seen. The Doors were taking everything away from me.
"Survive Clarke," Newt shouted over the noise. "Come back to me."
The walls slammed shut in front of me, as his final words echoed through my bones, mixed with the echo of the Walls booming-bouncing off the ivy-covered stone like mad laughter.
