The Labyrinth: Chapter Seventeen


Just after I heard the grind and rumble of the stone walls closing of the Doors for the day, Alby showed up looking happy and well. From what I had heard, his recovery seemed miraculous, compared to what Ben went through. The metal of key and lock jingled; then the door to the cell swung wide open.

"Ain't dead, are we?" Alby asked. From the stories I overheard, looking at Alby you wouldn't have thought that he was a paler colour then he was, his eyes crisscrossed with red veins, his skin sticking to his bones. Thomas lied to me.

Alby noticed us gawking at him. "Shuck it, what you both lookin' at?"

Thomas shook his head slightly, bashing a hand against it. "What – Nothing. Just seem crazy you healed so quickly. You're fine now, right?"

Alby fled his right bicep. I rolled my eyes. "Ain't never been better – come on out."

Thomas helped me up from the floor, passed my crutches and placed the pillow under his arm. I hobbled out of the Slammer. Thomas came behind me, squinting from the amount of sunlight – which wasn't that much.

Alby closed the Slammer door and locked it, then turned to face us "Actually, nothin' but a lie. I feel like a piece of klunk twice crapped by a Griever."

"Yeah, you looked it yesterday," Thomas said. Alby glared at him, and he quickly added. "But today you look brand new, I swear."

"Smooth," I mumbled.

Alby put the keys in his trouser pocket and leaned back against the Slammer's door. "So, quite the little talk we had yesterday."

At this point, the sensible thing to do was to fade out into the Glade. Yet I was very curious to hear more about this famous conversation and clearly, I was quiet enough that I hadn't been sent on my way.

"Uh … yeah, I remember."

"I saw what I saw, Greenie. It's kinds fadin', but I ain't never gonna forget. It was terrible. Tried to talk about it, somethin' starts choking me. Now the images are gone, like that same somethin' don't like me remembering."

There was a moment of silence, words being determined in Thomas's mind. Or was it fear? "What was it about me – you kept saying you saw me. What was I doing?"

Alby stared into empty space in the distance for a while before answering. "You were with the … Creators. Helping them. But that ain't what got me shook up."

Thomas's jaw dropped at the revelation. This didn't sound good.

Alby continued. "I hope the Changing doesn't give us real memories – just plants fake ones. Some suspect it – I can only hope. If the world's the way I saw it …" He trailed off, leaving an ominous silence. I was starting to believe Alby.

That one thought crossed my mind. The realisation started to sink in. There was no point denying it any more. Those dreams weren't dreams. And Alby confirmed it. The temptation to move away from Thomas built in my like a fire. But I wanted to stay and listen so I fought against the urge.

"Can't you tell me what you saw about me?" Thomas pestered.

Alby shook his head. "No way, shank. Ain't gonna risk stranglin' myself again. Might be something they got in our brains to control us—just like the memory wipe."

"Well, if I'm evil, maybe you should leave me locked up."

"Yes," I said without thinking. Both sets of eyes fell on me, one confused, one angry. "Do it. You can't trust him."

Alby scowled at me, placing his hands on his hips. "Keep it quiet, girlie. I haven't got time to be listenin' to your jokes. Go away I ain't got time for you." He turned to Thomas. "You ain't evil. You might be a shuck-faced slinthead, but you ain't evil." Alby showed the slightest hint of a smile, a bare crack in his usually hard face. "What you did—riskin' your butt to save me and Minho—that ain't no evil I've ever heard of. Nah, just makes me think the Grief Serum and the Changing got somethin' fishy about 'em. For your sake and mine, I hope so."

I shuffled away, the sting of Alby's words digging into my chest. I didn't expect Thomas to follow, he was too wrapped up in his conversation with Alby and the memories that he had to stay to satisfy his curiosity. That seemed to be what it was with him. He had to know everything. And I mean everything.

I headed straight for the Kitchen to try and find some food. Lunch had been a lifetime ago, and food was the one thing on my mind. I leant one of the crutches of the Kitchen entrance seeing that the area was empty. I had a small-time frame to help myself before Frypan returned to kick me out. I hobbled to the shelves of plates and reached up for mine. Why was it placed on the top shelf? After a few attempts, I still couldn't reach it. I wasn't going to give in yet.

"You need help?" Frankie from the Kitchens asked. He was a tall lad with fiery red hair cut just short of his head. I had seen him around the Glade whenever I was close to the Kitchens, but hadn't said a word to him. I lowered myself down from trying to reach the plate, gripping the remaining crutch as best as I could.

"Erm … just my plate." I pointed to the grey metal plate that I claimed as my own. "Someone put it on the top shelf."

Frankie didn't reply, but crossed over and grabbed the plate that I pointed from the top shelf. Being this close, I didn't realize how tall he actually was until he came over and towered over me. How short am I?

"Thanks," I said taking the plate from him. I hobbled away from Frankie, making my way towards the front of the Kitchen.

"Hey, Clarke," Frankie called behind me. "Frypan's got stuff for ya in the Kitchen."

I nodded and followed him through. As I passed him, Frankie took the plate from me, taking the lead. Once inside, he placed a plate full of roast beef and potatoes. I licked my lips and greedily took the plate from him. I gave a very grateful reply, but was stopped before I could leave.

"You gonna leave without the cookies." My head snapped where Frankie stood, a plate of cookies in his hands. My eyes went wide. Never before had I since so many sweet things in one place. I grumbling sound erupted from my stomach, it ached for the food in on my plate and on that plate.

"Are they mine?"

"Yes, no, not all of them."

"Oh, why not?"

"You have to share."

I paused. "Fine."

"What's this about sharing?" Thomas said behind me, making me jump out of my skins (I saved the food). I turned to see him standing in the doorway with his empty plate. "I came for the food, and whatever we are sharing."

"You know what," I said to Frankie, "keep the cookies. I'm gonna … go."

I shoved past Thomas and made for a table as close as I could get to with one crutch. The plate clattered to the table and I slid in. I ate silently by myself, savouring the taste of the beef as much as I could. It burnt my tongue, but it tasted so good.

"What's wrong with you?" Thomas said as he slid in beside me. I ignored him, and carried on with eating. "Hey, you ignoring me?"

"Did I do something wrong?" Thomas pestered me once more. "Look, I'm sorry for whatever I did, but please stop ignoring me."

My mouth opened to reply, but I was cut off with the arrival of Minho joining us at the table. His plate clattered on the table work, the same contents of food steaming of it.

"What's up jailbirds?" Minho said between bites. When no one replied, he looked up from his food with a questioning eye. "Have I just entered into somethin' awkward?"

"No," I said.

"Okay, well, I'm just gonna have to change that. Thomas how you feelin' for tomorrow?"

And the subject changed from there, Minho prepping Thomas about his big day of Runner training, giving him a few stats and 'interesting' facts. It was fascinating to learn about the Runners, no matter how small the information was. They were a peculiar group, in the sense that there wasn't much said about what they did in the Maze. Not unless you asked the right questions at the right time.

The brief information that I did pick up on seemed to make the task of map reading all a less daunting. I only had to discover a way out through reading lines, they were running those lines. Every day, for two years. And yet, they still couldn't find an exit.

When we were finished, I decided not to head back to my room, but instead seek out someone to talk too. I found the person I was looking for, stretched out behind a tree, his head resting against the bark.

"Clint?" I called. The boy opened his eyes and stared into me, puzzlement at first but then it relaxed into a friendly smile. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure," he said, as he helped me to sit down. "About what? Is it your ankle? Do you need any medicine?"

"I'm fine." I held my tongue for a moment.

"What do you make of Thomas?"

"What do you mean?" Clint asked, his face showing confusion.

"I mean, in the sense of, do you think he could be different?"

Clint didn't reply straight away, he pondered for the right words to say. "Well, after hearing the stuff that Ben was sayin' when he was whacked and Alby, I reckon he could. But, not now. Not with no memories to stir him in that direction. Why you askin'?"

"No reason," I said as I watch my hands fumble with each other. "I just was curious to see what other people thought of him then the usual suspects."

"Speak of the devil, here's one." Clint murmured, pointing with his chin the he direction behind us. I twisted my body to see Newt making his towards us, drifting in out of a few sleeping bodies.

"Clint didn't see you there." Clint nodded in return. "I'm gonna have to steal Clarke away from ya. Need to sort out some circle business. Come on."

No questions asked, Newt helped me up from the floor, allowing me to place most of my weight onto his body. Once up, I motioned for him to start walking, and followed behind as best as I could. Just before I got out of reach, Clint mumbled something behind me, my ears only picking parts of it. "Be careful round Thomas, though."

I looked over my shoulder to question why he would say that, but Clint had moved from his spot beside the tree. The words didn't sit well with me. I couldn't make out their intentions, but Clint must have the same feeling that I did about the boy.

After I was finished in the bathroom, Newt walked me back to my room. Once in the room, he shut the door and lent my crutches on the wall. I hopped to the bed and fell onto it. I shuffled until I laid on my back and just sighed my arms out stretched. Why was everything going from bad to worse here?

"What's up?" Newt queried. I faced him, the expression clearly giving away that I wasn't happy. Newt dragged the remaining chair in the room over to the bed and sat on it. He leant forward, taking my outstretched hand into his and squeezing it.

Don't tell him.

The thoughts of everything were a heavy burden, the weight adding with each day. I had to tell someone, there was only so long she could keep it a secret. Thomas never let it slip, but he still believed them to be dreams. I wasn't so sure anymore.

"I keep having dreams," I started.

"I know," Newt interrupted. I shot him a glare, and he closed his lips.

I continued. "I have dreams. They vary. Sometimes I can see what is happening, sometimes they are blurry and other times I can only hear what's happening."

"Okay," Newt softly said. "We all get them. It happens."

"No," I cut in. "This is different. They don't feel like dreams. They feel real. Gally said they can't be because I haven't been stung. But I don't know anymore. Whatever Alby's been saying has got me thinking."

I waited for a response from Newt. "When did you speak to Gally about the Changing?"

I sat up from the bed and rested myself on my elbows. "Really? Is that what you took from that?"

The expression in Newt's face twisted. Fine lines appeared on his brow as he turned away and lent back on the chair. He sucked in a breath and pursued his lips. "When would you have spoken to Gally? That kid doesn't dare come near you."

"Newt," I complained, annoyed that he had gotten off topic because of my interaction with Gally.

Newt lent to me, fire in his eyes. "Did he hurt you in anyway? Did he do something unforgivable?"

I huffed at him and let me head fall back with annoyance. "If you must know, it was a way back and I went to him. He was the only person I knew that could help answer my question. You certainly weren't doing it."

I look of hurt crossed Newt's face. He lent back on his chair again and stared at the door this time.

"Fine, go if you want but I won't just be the person that you need all the time. I need someone too." I crashed back onto the bed and faced away from him, snatching my hand back.

I waited for him to leave. This constant unknown annoyance was not something I was enjoying. There had to be a limit. He can't just say one minute he will be there and then the next allow his emotions over take him to the point he is ignoring me and only indulging in his anger. Why did I allow this to happen?

A soft brush force swept over my shoulder. Fingers curled around them and I was gently pulled to face him again.

"I'm sorry," he simply stated. "I'm letting my anger get the better of me. I'm listenin'."

I eyed him for a second before I carried on. "Well I saw Thomas in one of my dreams. He and a load of people were chasing me down a corridor. It felt wrong, like I was trying to escape something. He was there. I saw him."

Newt sat up straighter. He was lost for words. "I don't know what to say."

"Does your opinion change of Thomas?"

"You can't judge someone on one thing remembered."

"A lot of people have mentioned things about him," I reminded Newt.

"Well he may have changed," Newt countered. I thought about it. There could be some logic in his statement. From the memory he seemed angrier and more set in himself. Here, there wasn't the person I knew.

"Everything seems to be muddled. Maybe I really shouldn't be here in the Glade," I confessed. "Maybe me being in the Maze was a way for the Creators to get rid of me. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"It doesn't," Newt disputed. "Other people can't control you. That's not possible."

"What if it is," I countered. "Alby said he felt like he was being controlled. I have said it as well. It can't be a coincidence."

"You've delved to far into you head in the Slammer. This is crazy talk now," Newt dismissed. He rose from the chair. I grabbed a hold of his hand to stop him from leaving. "We all have been sent here for a reason. You as well. No one is trying to get rid of you and no one is controlling you. End of."

"I disagree. Everything seems to have been going wrong the moment I turned up. Ben getting stung and Banished, the dead Griever, Alby. Even the coma-boy. Nothing like this has ever happened since I arrived. Maybe if I go then everything will go back to normal."

"No," Newt snapped. "Stop saying this stuff. Stop thinking like you are causing everything to go wrong. You aren't. You're the best thing that came out of that Box in years. I wouldn't wish anything else for it. Life here is not what it seems. It's torture. The same day repeating itself, the uncertainty, the not knowing if I'll end up dead tomorrow. It drove me insane. It still does. You want to know how I got this limp. The days got so dark that I jumped from a wall to end them. Minho found me and dragged my arse back here. Nothing has been the same since. Not until you came. I saw you as a sign of hope that things were going to get better."

Stunned silence. If he thought he was a loss for words. I truly was now. There was nothing I could say to that. Nothing at all. I had always wondered what had happened to get his limp. That wasn't the story I was expecting. I rose from the be and wrapped my arms around his neck. That was the only thing I could think of. Words were not right for the moment.

I wrapped his around me and drew me closer until our chests met. He buried his head in the crook of my neck and I stroked his head. Actions spoke louder than words.

"Don't leave me Newt," I whispered in his ear.

"I won't," he replied.

"I mean now, don't leave me." Newt drew away from me, his hands lingering on my waist. "I don't want to be alone."

I spotted a glint in his eyes.

"Why now?" he questioned.

"I haven't been sleeping well since the Maze. I keep thinking I'll wake up back there."

He nodded without further question. "Okay, I'll stay. And just so you know you aren't there this is real."

I smiled. Company, that was all I needed. Newt rose from the chair and exited. He returned not shortly afterwards with his sleeping bag and laid it across the floor. "This works out perfect for me," Newt said from the floor. "We gotta work on the maps tomorrow and I can wake you nice and early without having to go far."

"Kill the moment much," I retorted.

I heard him chuckle and I smiled.


Waking up to Newt curled beside me in the small bed didn't half surprise me. Especially since the night had started with him on the floor of the room in his sleeping bag. It was strange to feel the comfort of another person beside you. The warmth, the security. I wasn't complaining.

I could have laid there all day, staring into his handsome face, are noses all most touching that I could almost count the amount stars on his face.

What did puzzle me the most was why was he in my bed?

But, morning duty called, and I needed the toilet.

At first, I tried to wriggle my body away from his as softly as I could, trying to not to wake him up. The only problem with that plan was that Newt's arms were firmly wrapped around my waist. And, in the process of freeing myself, he only pushed my body closer to his. I bit my lip to stop myself from squealing, the urge there.

Get a grip.

"Newt," I whispered, my voice rising. "Newt? Wake up."

The boy moaned in his sleep. His eyes squeezed shut tighter. How deep of a sleep was the kid in? I, again, softly calling his name, this time using my free arm to shake him awake. His strong arms now wrapped protectively around my waist, and he let out a small snore – completely and utterly lost in his slumber.

"Newt, you shank, wake up!" That got him up. His eyes snapped open. He blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Then shook his head.

"What you call me?" he asked half asleep.

"Nothin'," I feigned innocence. "Why you in my bed?"

Newt bit his lip and sucked in a breath of air. "You were havin' a nightmare, and wouldn't shut up until I lay here. I couldn't wake you up to make you stop, it was the only way."

I thought about it for a moment. I couldn't quite recall the whole aspect of the nightmare. It may have been a good thing that the details were screwy. Just a dream then. Nothing of importance.

"Well, then," I said. "Next time at least use the blankets to cover yourself."

I lifted Newt's arm from my waist and wriggled my body over his, lifting my injured leg up and over the side.

"Sorry about this," I grunted as I tried to get out of the bed. "I'm busting for the toilet."

I inched closer off Newt's body, anticipating my other leg to fall over the side and take the weight. Oh, how I was much mistaken.

I fell out of the bed. On to the floor. Landing in a heap. I grimaced in pain. I needed to stop getting into those type of situations. I grabbed the side of the bed and hauled myself up on to it.

"Clarke, you alright?"

"Yes," I said through gritted teeth. "Everythin' is grand. Just gotta really go to the toilet."

I gracefully stood up from the floor and towered over Newt who was very much sprawled out on the bed. "I could get used to this."

"Come on, I need the toilet." I bent down and yanked at his arm to get up. "I literally might wet myself."

"Do it then," Newt twisted into a ball and faced the wall.

"You. are. a. horrid. person," I seethed, trying my best to show him my anger. I stormed out of the room, doing my best to stay up straight.

"I'm coming, jeez take a joke," I heard Newt grumble from the room.

I snapped to him when he trudged through the doorway. "I can," I said to him with a smile. "You clearly can't."

I hopped down the stairs without even looking at his face and bounded to the bathrooms. Newt followed closely behind, grumbling a few favourable words on the way.

"Finally," I breathed, racing in as best as I could. "Stay there," I threw over my shoulder, as I took the furthest stall from the entrance. I shouted at him that I needed to shower. Newt grumbled in response and darted off to find spare clothes for me.

Moments later he returned and I washed myself. This time I put my own trousers on, I was too embarrassed to ask him.

"You done yet, some want to come in," Newt yelled through the building after I struggled with the final part of the trouser leg.

"I'm comin'." I opened threw open the door and hopped out. Newt passed me my crutches as I left. I really needed to remember them. We grabbed our breakfasts and, instead of heading to the usual spot, Newt leaded me towards the Map room. He pushed the plates into my grasp, turning to open the door with one of his keys that he produced from his pocket. The locks clicked open and he pushed the heavy door open. Newt walked back to where I stood, grabbed the plates from me and gestured to go inside.

I followed him inside to the dingy room, placing myself on a chair that hadn't been tucked in. The Runners must have left in haste for this chair to be left like this – the room was always kept in an orderly mess.

As soon as the plates hit the table, we gobbled the food up, not letting our tongues savour the taste. Once we were finished, Newt took the plates and dumped them beside the door to be taken out when we left.

"Right, let's get down to business," he said as he opened the first chest of maps.


"Do you see anythin'?" Newt asked, pushing the map once more in my face. "Anythin' at all?"

"Nothin', it's just a map." I sighed, yet again failing at whatever I was supposed to be finding. "And a route, does it resemble somethin'?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Bets me, just thought you would know."

I narrowed my eyes, truly looking into his eyes. "You know, don't you?" I jabbed his side with my finger, him flinching from the reaction. I jabbed again. "Tell me, tell me, tell me!" I pestered, continual smacking his arm and he fell from his chair.

"Enough, I don't know so I how am I supposed to tell ya?" He said, attempting to get back onto the chair.

"Think somethin' up." I waited for his answer. "Fine, it looks like a letter. Happy?"

Newt glanced at the page in front of his, his mouth parted slightly in disbelief. I arched my head, certain I saw a hint of confusion flash before his eyes.

"That is it, isn't it?" I urged, intrigued to the expression.

"I think that's enough for the day," Newt said. He grabbed the papers that we were using throughout the day and placed them back into the chests that they came from. One day, when one of these Gladers pisses me off to the point of no return, these maps will be the first thing I screw around with.

The moment came. All day the same thought had been pinging around my head. I was too nervous to even ask him, until now when the opportunity arose.

"Before we go," I started, leaning back on my chair. "We need to talk about us."

He retook the chair beside me, leaning in closer, grabbing a lock of my hair and twirling it in between his fingers. "What about us?"

"Well, that's thing, what is there between us." I spoke. "I'm confused. But, not in a bad way."

"Then, in what way?"

I sighed. "Is it a one just the spur of the moment? Or … you know … in another way?"

Newt took my hand from my lap and firmly placed it within his. "Not spur of the moment. I would never do that to you. Ever. Hear me."

"Do you think we're taking things to fast?"

"Never."

"You sure."

"I always will be. If you want to change things, then I will agree. I want you to be happy, and if that means slowing down then I'll do it."

I shook my head in disagreement. "It's not that. I just had a thought and I wanted things cleared up. Everything's been so confusing lately that I just want one thing that is certain here. I want that to be you."

"So together?" Newt asked.

"No," I stated. "I want to be sure first not rush into things. Do you see?"

Newt nodded. I sensed the disappointment in his eyes. He'll get over it.

He'll ignore you for it.

"Like I said I want you to be happy."

Newt drew me closer and we kissed in the dingy map room. I tender kiss that meant everything to us. No interruptions, no hastily kisses in case someone came in. Just us to ourselves.

Well that went better than expected.

Really again?

We broke apart smiling and giddy with joy. Newt mentioned that we should leave before the Runners turned up, and set in motion restoring the table for them to use.

I rose from the chair I had been sitting on for most of the day, my bum sore from the continual sitting. I stretched out my limbs, the aches and pains pulling at my muscles. Two days I've been feeling the pains from my night in the Maze, sitting down all yesterday took its toll as well. Who would have thought that a day of doing nothing and sitting there could have that much effect?

I dragged myself along the tabled, grasped the crutches and hobbled out of the room. Newt closed the doors a soon as I left, the lock clicking shut. He took the plates under his arm, leading the way back to the centre of the Glade. On the way, we passed some of the Runners who were going back to write up their maps for the day. They murmured a few words as they passed to Newt, loud enough for only him to here. In my normal state, I would have strained to hear what they were saying, not today. I don't think the energy was in me anymore to even try.

There wasn't much need for convincing to be told I needed go to bed. The yawns I gave throughout dinner clearly identified it. I made it up the stairs, and for an unknown reason, found myself sitting in the room where Aris lay. An enigma, like me. I wondered what this boy would be like. How he would take to waking in the Glade? Would he have the same reaction as me?

"You don't know what you've let yourself in for, Aris," I told him. "If I were you, I would stay asleep. It's better there than it is here."

I sat there for a while, watching the kid. In a way, it was relaxing to see him there. There was no chaos within in this room, only peace and serenity – in a weird sort of way.

I left when twilight turned to darkness, my eyes yarning for sleep. Back in my own room, it didn't take me long to fall asleep this time without the fear taking a hold.