The Labyrinth: Chapter Eighteen


I awoke to a weak, lifeless light radiating through the window above my head. My first thought was the feeling that I must have gotten up earlier than usual, that dawn was still an hour away. But, then, I heard the shouts.

"What the?" I sat up from my bed and gazed out of the window. A few of the Gladers pointed towards the sky, questioning the looks across their face. I followed what they were seeing and the cause of the commotion. The sky was a dull slab of grey – not the natural pale light that greeted me every morning. There was no blue, no black, no stars, no artists and his splash of paint. Every inch of that sky was slate grey. Colourless and dead.

I scrambled from my bed and joined the others downstairs, hoping one of them would give me answers on what was happening.

I caught Clint as he re-entered the Homestead, a bowl of soup in his hands. We both moved out of the doorway, letting others past us.

"The sky, what's wrong with it?" I inquired, pointing towards the broken sky.

"Dunno, woke up and it was broken," he shrugged, moved past me and carried on up the stairs.

Outside, I expected the sky to change back to its normal state. But it was all grey, like a ceiling. Stepping out of the Homestead I noticed the sun no longer producing a brightness, and with that I found most of the Gladers standing near the entrance to the Box, pointing at the dead sky, everyone talking at once.

If this was later than I thought, then breakfast should've been already served, people working round the Glade. But there was something about the largest object in the solar system vanishing that tended to disrupt normal schedules.

I found Thomas silently watching the commotion unravel, his face as calm as I see now every day. Smug, in fact, he looked smug. Mocking the ones that didn't understand. Obviously, the sun couldn't just disappear, it was near impossible to just drop out of the sky. Yet, it seemed that exactly what happened.

"You know what's going on?" I questioned him. He didn't reply. Instead, he crossed his arms and carried on staring at the sky

He pursed his lips.

"Look, I know I have been ignoringg you. I wouldn't do it intentionally. It's just …" I hesitated for a second. "What Alby said the other day got me thinking. Those dreams aren't really dreams. I recognise you and I don't know if it's a good or bad thing."

"I thought that," he finally said. "The look on your face said it all. I hoped that it wasn't true but there was no way from that. Only Alby, Ben and Gally have looked at me like that."

"I'm not gonna ignore you," I stated fast. "I hope you know that. I won't do what they do. I won't judge you on that. You could be an entirely different person now. I'm sorry. I want you to know that. I was just in shock. I don't want to hold a grudge against you for something that we both can't remember."

"You have with Gally," he joked.

"I said can't remember. I remember everything that Gally does and he deserves it," I said, as I stared up to the sky. "But, that's him. I'm talking about you, stop changin' the subject." I smacked his arm, careful not to lose my crutch from under my arm.

"Okay, keep goin'," he said, rubbing his arm from where I hit him.

"I'm just sayin' I forgive you. I no longer hold a grudge." I put my hand, coaxing him to shake. "Let's start again on better terms. Buddy."

We shook hands.

"Well then, buddy," Thomas smirked. "How do you think the sky is broken?"

"I asked you the question." I smiled. "Eaten?"

"Eaten?" Thomas repeated. "Phew. You do come up with silly things."

"Whatever Tom."

Thomas stared down at me. "You don't call me Greenie anymore."

"What?" I hummed.

"You call me by my name. Not Greenie or Newbie."

"Oh, have I?" I teased. "Should I carry on doin' it?"

"No," he squealed. "I finally feel like you accept me."

"We're buddies now, I can give you nicknames," I said with a sly smile.

"You can call me Thomas, or Tom," he said. "But not Greenie or any other association with that name."

"Shank? Shuckface? Klunkface?"

"Clarke," Thomas whined. I held my hands up in defence and rolled my eyes.

We both continued to stare at the sky, watching for anything to change in our staring contest with it.

"Have you heard any more of that Teresa-girl?" I asked out of the blue.

Instead of answering, Thomas's rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. That was a yes then. "So, what did she say?" I pushed, now fully interested with girl inside his head. "Did she say, I don't know, dirty things?"

"Clarke!" He shrieked, his face in utter shock. He rubbed his chin, utterly stunned.

"Grow up," I informed him. "Tell me. What does she say?"

"She said," Thomas started, slowly. "That the end has been trigged for all of us, and he had a part in it."

The answer took me back and I went to ask him more. But, the conversation was cut short when Chuck found us, the bounce of joy no longer in his step and his face full of fear.

"What do you think happened?" Chuck said, a pitiful tremor in his voice, his eyes glued to the sky. "Looks like a big grey ceiling – close enough you could almost touch it."

I followed Chuck's gaze and looked up. "Yeah, makes you wonder about this place."

"Maybe something's broken. I mean, maybe it'll be back," Thomas suggested.

Chuck broke gawking at the sky and made eye contact with Thomas. "Broken? What's that supposed to mean?"

Thomas didn't reply, his eyes glazed over deep within thought. I nudged him in the ribs, trying to get his attention. "Thomas?" he gazed down at me, then it turned to Chuck.

"Yeah?"

"What'd you mean by broken?" Chuck repeated.

"Oh. I don't know. Must be things about this place we obviously don't understand. But you can't just make the sun disappear from space. Plus, there's still enough light to see by, as faint as it is. Where's that coming from?"

Chuck's eyes widened, as if the secret of life itself had been revealed to him. Thomas had a point, though. The sun was gone, but where was the light?

"Yeah, where is it coming from? What's going on, Thomas?" Chuck flustered.

I grabbed hold of his shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry Chuck, almighty-Tom here will fix the sky for you."

"Thomas!" Minho shouted, running up to us. "Quit your leisure time and let's get going. We're already late."

"Still going out there?" I asked, surprised as my counterparts beside me.

"Of course we are," Minho said. "Don't you have maps to look over, and you don't you have some sloppin' to do?" He looked between us all. "If anything, gives us even more reason to get our butts out there. If the sun's really gone, won't be long before plants and animals drop dead, too. I think the desperation level just went up a notch."

"You mean we're going to stay out there all night? Explore the walls a little more closely?"

Minho shook his head. "No, not yet. Maybe soon, though." He looked up toward the sky. "Man, what a way to wake up. Come on, musketeers, you can do your thing when we're done. Scram."

We all parted in different directions, Chuck to whatever he had to do, me to find Newt and the Runners to the Kitchens. Thomas had mentioned that the end had been triggered by the girl in his head. The Ending. Such an ominous way to put it. Though it suited the mood of the Glade at the current time.

I found Newt trying to calm down a group of Gladers. From the looks of things, it was going to be a long time till I got him on my own. I couldn't be bothered to hang around, so I stumbled off without him to the Map room to escape. It took Newt half the morning to convince each one to get back to what they were doing, restoring poor order into a chaotic system. Some were sceptical, believing that it was the end of the world altogether. Let's just say that their arses would be sore in the morning.

Once we got around to looking through the maps, the mood had gone from both of us. Newt tried explaining the different techniques that the Runners used in the Maze, and the details that went along with it, but it kept going in one ear and coming out of the other. Eventually, Newt saw my disinterest and ended our work for the day. We packed up our supplies and headed back into the centre of the Glade.

"The supply bell should be going any minute now," he said as he led us towards the Box. "We'll wait here until it does."

A few more boys joined us when we arrived, milling about for the same exact reason. I decided to sit down, to the relief of my ankle and stare up at the grey sky, passing the time of waiting here.

'Any minute' soon passed, and no sound came. The few of the Gladers, that had joined us by the Box, started to become agitated with no sound of the bell. They started to murmur with one another, expressions of confusion creasing their faces.

"What's goin' on?" I said up to Newt, who now too looked confused. He pointed a finger towards me, glanced around then ran straight for the Homestead. As soon as he entered the doorway, he was back out again with Alby beside him. They seemed in deep conversation or having an intense argument.

"Alby, what's goin' on?" someone shouted from our group. "Where's the bell?"

"Shuck it, man," Alby snapped. "I don't know the techna-stuff with this place. I only run it."

He crossed over to the Box, clicking his fingers at a few of the boys. Alby pointed to the handles of the Box, then towards the ones he selected. All took a side, and after a few grunts, heaved the lid open. A gust of cold air swept through us from the shaft, chilling my bones. I slowly got up from the floor and hobbled over to see what they were all looking at.

"Looks like no supplies then," the one called Dave said, expressing everyone's thoughts into words. "What we gonna do now?"

"We ain't gonna panic," Alby said through gritted teeth. "We keep doin' what were supposed to be doin'. Newt, I need you with me at Frypan's."

"I can't leave Clarke on her own," Newt hissed, glancing around at the small crowd that had formed, all curious to see what was going on.

Alby glared down at me. His eyes tinged with irritation. "It's a matter of Keepers. She can't come. Send her to Clint or somethin'."

I knew when I wasn't wanted, I grumbled a response to Alby and hobbled towards the Homestead to see if Clint needed any help. I got up the stairs as best I could. Then walked along the dimly lit corridor. I glanced inside the two first rooms, checking if they either one of the Med-Jacks were in there. I spotted Jeff in the second. He nodded and pointed to the wall. I understood what I meant and carried on down the corridor towards the next room.

I lightly tapped on the door and walked in to find Clint sat in a chair next to Aris, a notebook in his lap, him intently scribbling inside it.

"Any luck with coma-kid?"

Clint glimpsed up from his notebook, surprised to see me. "What you doin' 'ere?"

"Alby sent me," I told him, sitting on the chair in the corner. "Didn't want me around to disturb his problem."

"Problem?"

"You didn't see. There are no supplies anymore. The end has come." I whispered the last part.

"No supplies from the Box. Well, we're shucked for good now," Clint whispered, closing the notebook on his lap. He rose from the chair and looked out of the window.

"No sun, no food, no supplies. Do you know what's gonna happen to us?" I asked, rubbing my hands together.

"That's a question I couldn't answer." Clint's eyes lit up from staring out the window. I rose from the chair and crossed the room to join him by the window. I spotted Newt, Alby, Minho and Thomas all standing round the Box staring down. The lids had been closed over from the Box in the time I took me to get up here.

"I bet they are discussin' the problem, and I also bet Alby blames it all on Thomas," I said.

Clint laughed. "Wouldn't surprise me."

"What would surprise you?" a voice spoke behind us. Clint and I looked each other in the eye, surprise on our faces, then turned our attention towards not-so-coma-Aris. We didn't reply him, we were too shocked for words to form on our mouths. Aris raised an eyebrow. "Okay, then answer this. Where the heck am I?"

I shifted away from the window, making my way towards the door without my crutches.

"Where you going?" Aris asked. "I asked a question, answer it!"

I turned to face him. He had sat on the side of the bed, his feet dangling over the side. "I … uh … don't answer that. Clint?" I motioned for him to take over. He was a Keeper, it was his job to sort this stuff out.

I dashed out of the room before any more could be said. I leant against the wall and shuffled along. "Jeff!" I called as loud as I could. "Jeff, get here, now!"

He poked his head from one of the rooms, confused. "What?"

A loud clatter came from the room I left Clint and Aris in, catching both of our attentions. Jeff came out of the room and rushed past me into the other. As soon as he stepped through the doorway, he flew back out of it again, a chair crashed on top of him. He collapsed to the ground groaning.

Aris stepped through the doorway, a sense of rage radiating through him. I took steps back, using the wall as my support. His hard stare turned to me, those bright green eyes burning. He bent down and picked up one of the chair legs, fiddling with it as he stood up.

Without thinking, I turned and ran as best I could towards the stairs. I didn't get far. Aris grabbed my shoulder and smashed my body against the wooden wall. I groaned, pain drumming in the areas that were hurt the worst. He gripped my shirt tightly, keeping me pressed up against the wall.

"Now," he whispered into my ear. "You talk and there won't be any pain."

I whimpered and nodded in agreement, knowing full well that I wouldn't be able to recover if I went through any more pain.

"Let me go then," I said, my bottoming lip trembling. "Don't touch me." I shifted beneath his grip, but it only tightened against my favour.

"I will. Answer this." Aris leant closer into me. "Tell me where I am and why I can't remember anything."

"I don't answ–"

"You say that one more time, and I'll bash that bandaged leg with this very nice wooden pole." He smiled a sinister grin.

I nodded furiously, trying again to pull myself away from him.

"I would stop pulling away … whatever your name is. Answer the question."

I opened my mouth to answer him when there came a quiet voice from the end of the corridor. "Clarke?"

I twisted my head behind me to see the head of curls looking up from the stairs. Chuck's face twisted into confusion, then his eyes widened and his mouth dropped. Aris had paused also, taking in the young boy perched on the stair. His grip released ever so slightly, my shirt no longer digging into my neck. I took the opportunity and pushed Aris back with my hands, saying. "Go get Newt!"

Chuck ducked back down from the stairs, his footsteps echoing up the door. Aris grabbed my shoulder once again and pushed me down to the floor hard on my injured ankle. I cried out in pain, it searing up my leg like lightning. Stars danced in my eyes. The corners smudged with darkness.

I bit back the pain and resisted the urge to let it succumb me. I overcame it instead and fought back. I punched him in the gut, aiming as best as I could with all the strength I had. He lunged over, the air taking from him. He released my shirt, his hand clutching his stomach. I grabbed his head and smashed it against the wall before struggling to leap up to try and escape.

I stumbled along the floor, but I never got far before Aris regained himself and came for more. He clutched my braid and wrapped it around his hand. He yanked on it, trying to pull me back towards him.

"Help!" I yelled as loud as I could. I tried kicking him in the shin with my uninjured leg, breaking him down from the bottom. To my disappointment, he only grimaced from the pain and pulled my hair harder.

"Clarke," a voice called from downstairs. I shrieked in response as Aris dragged me to the floor with my hair. I heard loud footsteps bound up the stairs, not stopping in any way. I was in absolute agony, the pain so intense now that I was too weak to fight this gigantic kid off me.

A few boys crashed up into the landing, tackling Aris to the ground. Not one stopped to gawk at the not-so-coma-kid anymore, until they had him securely under wrap and arms. A tall, muscular boy sat on top of him, his hands tightly pressing Aris' together.

I sat up from the floor, rubbing the back of my head furiously from where he pulled my hair. Luckily, my hair had been in a braid because it stayed very much in tack. Newt appeared at my side, taking my elbow and helping me up from the floor and into the nearest room. He closed it straight behind him, shutting out the commotion from us.

"Did he hurt you in any way?" he asked with a concerned look before pulling me into a tight hug. I rested my head on his shoulder.

"Everything hurts," I mumbled. "I don't know how I stayed awake."

"Wait here." Newt helped towards the chair then opened the door and left. The sounds of trying to stop Aris had quietened down when Newt had left the room. A thump and a groan echoed from outside the door, everyone quiet.

"Take him to the Slammer," Newt said through the door. He returned after that with a small bottle of pills in his hands and a glass of water from somewhere. He offered it to me and I took it willingly.

It would take a few moments for the pain disappeared, so I sat and waited.

"Where have you put Aris?" I asked, placing the cup of water onto the desk an arm's reach away.

"Aris is gonna be stayin' in the Slammer for a long time," he said. "We can't have a rogue Glader runnin' around and hurtin' everyone he gets his hands on."

"Jeff, Clint. How are they?"

"Clint's up with a sore head and Jeff's out cold."

I rubbed my hands together, feeling the small tremors in them. I clamped them together instead, trying to relieve my hands of no further fear.

"Can I go back to my own room please?" my voice trembled. The tightness in my chest returned. The shaking. Newt grasped my hand and squeezed it tightly. He helped me up from my chair, assisting me from this room to my own. I let go of his hand once I entered my room, and laid down on my bed, the events flashing past me.

I closed my eyes, the images becoming more prominent. I opened them. I could still see them.

I hurt so much. I wished the pain would stop. I wished I never be in pain.

"Newt," I said, not opening my eyes. "It hurts so much."

I felt the bed beside me weigh down as he sat down. He retook my hands in his, squeezing them reassuringly. It was like he knew the pain I felt.

"Why does everythin' suck here?" I asked.

"That's a good question," Newt mumbled. He pushed me across the bed ever so slowly and then laid down beside me. "And I reckon it was a sucky place in the first place."

We lay there for a few minutes, blocking out the restless of the Glade from outside. I wanted this moment to never end, the peace of it, the calmness.

"Betta be goin', need to sort out the new problem of the day."

"Can I come with?" I asked, quite shocked at my sudden bravery.

"You sure?" he questioned, turning his head to face mine, our noses almost touching. "Would have thought you stay in 'ere scared before you face another one of them encounters again."

"Fine," I huffed, turning away. "I'll stay, and miss out on all the fun."

We stayed quiet for a few moments, the silent room creeping around us. I scrunched up my nose in disgust. I was not going to be cooped up in here all the time when something bad happens to me. It's not fair.

"Go then," I mumbled. "I don't care."

"Come on, Clarke," Newt tried to say. "You're just … unpredictable at times."

"Whatever."

"Newt!" Alby (his loud voice recognisable) yelled as he banged his fist against the closed door. "Get your shuckin' ass out 'ere now!"

"Alright," he called back rising up from the bed. He kissed the side of my head, then left through the door.

I tilted my head up, glancing over my shoulder to see an empty room and an empty doorway. There was always too much emptiness around me, left on my own for far too long. Told exactly what to do and ordered to follow it. I, no longer, was going to be the mouse that I thought I was, I was going to be the lion.

I rose from the bed, grabbed my fallen crutches and limped out of the door of my room. I made my way down the stairs and out through the Homestead, my mission in arms. I scoured the Glade, looking for the right people to follow. A flock of golden hair caught my eye before it flashed into the grove of trees. I descended the Homestead, brushing past a few too many worried Gladers for my liking. I was sure Newt had said that he had got everyone back under control?

I dismissed the worrying boys around me and tracked the path that I was following. I made to the treeline, half expecting to still see two figures walking in the direction. But I was going on an ounce of luck. Instead of giving up the adventure, I went in towards the trees. The Glade is not that big of a place, and very hard to get lost in. Sooner or later I would end up finding them both, it couldn't be that hard.

Luckily, I did, for further down I saw Newt and Alby emerge from the treeline, both looking very angry. I huffed in response, annoyed that I would have had to divert my course once more and try and track these two down again. Why did they have to walk so fast?

I waited for a few moments (more so to catch my breath and calm my agonising ankle) watching to see where they were headed. By the looks of it, the Slammer seemed to be the destination. I gritted my teeth and carried on. I knew who was placed there, and I knew all too well that I really shouldn't be going there. Newt didn't say it in words, but the meaning behind it was clear. Very.

I limped my way there, strangely no one tried to stop, they all seemed to be preoccupied with something else. It took me a bit longer than expected to get there. With all the weaving and stopping for short breaks. I hadn't quite gotten over the attack, but I'm not one for sitting down and crying over the events. I'm more for just moving on, I think.

I turned the all too familiar corner, where the thorny bushes lay and the most boring place in the Glade. I spotted two figures, all in a heavy argument. To try and hear them, I stood from around the corner. They hadn't noticed me, so I think I was okay.

I watched Alby step forward. "I'm sick of this." He pointed at Thomas's chest, almost tapping it. "I wanna know who you are and who these other two shucking delinquents are?"

Thomas looked like he was going to pass out from fear. "Alby, I swear–"

"He shouted your name as soon as he was taken out of the Homestead, shuck-face!"

"So what? I know him, he knows me – or at least, we used to. That doesn't mean anything! I can't remember anything. Nor can he."

Alby looked within the Slammer. "What did you do?"

Thomas, stunned by the question, glanced at the Slammer, obviously all they were looking at Aris.

"What did you do?" Alby screamed, his face changing shades of red. "First the sky, now this."

"Something must have been trigged," Aris's mocking, muffled voice spoke through the small window. His face appeared on the other side, bloody and bruised. "On purpose, well that's debatable. I give it a name, The Ending. What ya think?"

He really wants a death wish.

Alby glared at him, clenching his fists together.

"What's wrong?" Thomas asked, ignoring Alby. "What happened?"

But Alby grabbed him by the shirt. "What happened? I'll tell ya what happened, shank. Too busy remakin' friends to bother lookin' around? To bother noticing what freaking time it is!"

Then it struck me. The running around, the worried faces. No wonder no one notice me around. They were all too busy focusing on … whatever it was they were focusing on.

"The walls, you shuck. The Doors. They didn't close tonight."

Ah yes, that was it … oh crap.