The Labyrinth: Chapter Nineteen


I was stunned. How on earth did I miss such an important event?

The whole fate of the Glade changed. No sun, no supplies, no protecting from the Grievers. The girl in Thomas's head had been right – everything had truly changed. I felt the air in my throat solidified, lodged within in.

"Oh, this seems real bad," Aris added, a smirk on his face. "I'm glad I'm in here and not out there."

Alby marched up to the door of the Slammer, attempting to grab Aris's by the cuff of his shirt through the small window. He growled in frustration when Aris backed up, his laughter echoing from his concrete prison.

"Gotta be quicker next time, hotshot," Aris mocked, only his voice clarifying that he was there.

"You find this all a joke, do ya?" Alby hissed, his voice barely audible. "Well, answer the question."

Aris paused for a moment, then his face reappeared at the window, not close enough for Alby to grab him. "I find this place intriguing. A large area surrounded by these walls. But, it seems, the highlight of this place is that girl over there."

Alby turned his back to Aris and faced me, a scowl very much on his face. I think I may have been caught. I tried to back away from the Slammer into the treeline, but the rouse was already up. Thomas slowly edged his way in between the path of Alby's and I, his nature still unpredictable from the Grief Serum effects.

"Why are you always around?" Alby barked at me. "Go back to the Homestead and help with somethin'."

I shrunk back into the treeline. Alby was a hot-head, but now he really was erratic. That tone I had never heard before, not even when I refused to talk to him the very first time I had met him. I screwed my face up and did my best to bite back my tongue. I really didn't want to be on the end of another fight when I just about got through the last one.

"That's an angry face," Aris cooed from the Slammer door. "Shame it's all that we get to see."

Alby bashed the door of the Slammer, making me jump. Aris only laughed, it echoing through the space. "This is entertaining. A leader with too much emotion. Now isn't that a perfect storm."

Aris smiled. Irritating Alby further.

"I don't have time for your shuckin' riddles," Alby yelled. "This problem is all upon your heads. I blame all three of you. Everythin' goes wrong round here when you lot started to show up."

"You can't blame us," Thomas stated. "We didn't have anything to do with the closing walls."

"Did you go deaf over the past few minutes? He admitted to it," Alby accused, spit flying from his mouth.

"That's still not our fault." Thomas pointed to him and me. "Clarke and I had nothin' to do with this."

"Just be glad that your arses aren't in there with him," Alby retorted. He gave us one long hard stare before he storming past the both of us into the Glade. I heard in the distance shouts from the Leader as he walked back through the Glade, accompanied by the laughter's inside the Slammer. Aris was right. This was a perfect storm.

"We better go," I whispered to Thomas, indicating with my arm to follow me. He nodded and followed me round the corner of the Homestead away from the nightmare in a box into another one. The Glade was in complete chaos, there had been no discernible change in the light since the sun and blue sky hadn't appeared that morning, it still felt like a darkness spread over the Glade. We approached a bench, sat down and watched Alby and Newt gather Keepers to put them in charge of making assignments and getting their groups inside the Homestead within the hour.

The Builders – without their leader, Gally, who was still missing – were ordered to put up barricades at each open Door. They obeyed without complaint, although we all knew that there wasn't time nor materials that could do a basic job. It seemed that the point was to keep busy and delay the inevitable thoughts that sat at the edge of everyone's mind. Thomas left as soon as we sat down, helping the Builders gather every loose item that could be found. It looked pretty pathetic and ugly, no use at all to keep the Grievers out.

For me, I was ignored. There weren't much physical things I could do to help. I was still very sore from my encounter with Aris and it seemed that walking to and from places were a much slower ordeal than before. I was more of a nuisance out here trying to help. So I gave up watching and looking and decided to help elsewhere. I limped to the Kitchens and was immediately put straight to work by Frypan in helping with the food preparations. I couldn't carry anything, so was tasked with organising the non-perishable from the perishable food. The non-perishable would be moved into the Homestead for safe-keeping (and what I had heard in case we were trapped for a long period of time). I overheard Newt discussing with Frypan about how we would all sleep in the Homestead and kill all the lights across the Glade, except for emergencies.

Twenty minutes passed before I felt a tap on my shoulder, I looked up from my pile of yet undecided to see Minho leaning over my shoulder.

"A very hard decision," he said. "Do you eat the cookies, or do we save them?"

"I dunno," I replied. "It seems more plausible just to eat them now."

"You said it." Minho grabbed the bag of cookies from the pile and stuffed it under his shirt. "Anyway, seein' as you're the map person, you and Newt are needed on a special mission."

Minho helped me up from the floor, where I had taken to make my decisions, and led me outside of the Kitchens. We made our way across the Glade to the path of the Map Room. Standing in the shadow of the trees was Newt. He seemed uneasy, his eyes darting around, his hands rubbing together. He looked like he was about to commit a crime.

"What's going on?" I whispered to Minho.

"We need your help with the maps." Newt led us down the path, helping me when it got difficult. "We've moved them out of the chests, but need help with fillin' them back up again."

"All the pages being moved? How did you do that?" I asked. I had seen the room. There were trunkful's, and I mean trunkful's, of pages. That was not an easy task in itself.

"The Runners, they've been doin' it all day," Minho answered from the rear. "Secretly, mind you. Don't wanna blast out the Runner secrets."

"Runner secrets?"

"Yeah, there's more to what you already know."

"What are they?" I enquired, quite intrigued about all these mysteries and why there was a need for them.

Newt glanced behind, catching the eye of Minho. They didn't want me to know something. Them and their secrets. And I thought that there weren't any more to discover.

"We're here."

Newt opened the door to the Map Room, revealing what once was a full room of papers filled with routes of the Maze. Now, there was nothing, everything stripped back to the bone. The chests laid empty, nothing bursting over the top. No paper littered the top of the table either, just the pencils pots to the corresponding chair.

This doesn't look good.

"I see what you mean." I headed for one of the chairs and sat down. "So, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here then?"

"We're gonna stuff these with paper to hide the fact that they aren't there."

"Why?" All this made no sense what so ever. "Where did the maps go?"

"Elsewhere," Newt said, picking up a pile of blank pages from the corner of the room and placing it into one of the chests. "Protecting them, like Alby said."

"Fine," I say as I rose from the chair and helped them both fill the chests. It took us ten minutes of frantic stuffing to fill half of them. We were on a time limit to get them finished before the official night started. The dusk sky hadn't changed all day, and it seemed it wouldn't for the night. We were all stuck in an eternal twilight zone.

Soon enough, Newt instructed me to draw some map patterns onto a few sheets of paper, changing the design each time. This seemed far more excessive than what the intention was. My first thought was that in the night, a Griever may end up destroying the building. How I don't know? But this seemed different. There was something more to the plan that they weren't letting me on too. I doubt Grievers could read anyway.

We had spent thirty minutes in this room, prepping it for the long night ahead. Newt and Minho had managed to fill all the chests in the room, placing the drawn maps inside everyone. I sat down on the chair closest to me and faced the door far in front of me. Minho chucked a bag of cookies on the table, ripped them open and devoured two in one go. He offered me one and I took it before it was sucked up into his mouth.

"What now?" I asked as I nibbled on the cookie.

"Now, well." Minho paused, then his flicked to Newt's. "I'm gonna go find my Runners and set them to some work. I'll see you both in the Homestead soon."

Minho rose from his chair and left the room, stuffing his face with his third cookie he had grabbed from the bag. Newt crossed the room, sitting down on the chair closest to me.

"Before we get outta 'ere, we need to make a few more drawings, for the table," he said.

"Newt, why are we doin' all of this?" I questioned. I picked up on the sad light from his eyes when he spoke his last sentence. There were secrets that were kept, then there were secrets that were made. He was keeping something from me.

"For the Glade," he replied, then kissed me on the lips. At first, I was confused at this sudden gesture, but I did kiss him back. After all, the time we had together was very little. I wasn't going to waste opportunities like this all the time.

This doesn't feel right.

Something still nagged at the back of my head. This didn't feel right.

I broke away from him. My eyes flicked up into his, trying to uncover whatever it was that he was keeping from me.

"Clarke," Newt said as he stroked my face. "I like you a lot. And I hope you do too. It would crush me if you didn't."

This was unexpected. My eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "What's bought this on?" I questioned him intently.

"You do like me?" Newt repeated with more determination this time.

I nodded. "Of course I do. You're one of the few people that I do."

"Clarke…"

"I don't know what you want me to say!" I exclaimed. I had enough of his riddles. "Tell me what to say and I'll say it."

"I … I just want you to know that you mean everything to me." Newt rose from the chair. "And the decision I made was done in your best intentions." He backed away.

"What are you talking about?" I hesitated. "What are you doing?" Newt gave me no time to think before he had crossed the Map Room and exited the door. "Newt, stop. What are you doing?"

I rose from the chair and hobbled round the table, trying to make it to the doorway. I pushed the chairs out of the way, jumping over them best I could.

"I'm sorry, Clarke," Newt said with sadness from outside of the room. I watched in my frantic state as he grabbed the side of the door and started to push it shut.

"Stop this," I yelled at him. I limped as best I could to the door. "Don't do this to me … Newt!"

I made it to the doorway just has the locks clicked shut, the metallic click echoing round the dark room. I bounded on the door, my fists exploding in pain with every hit. I begged Newt to open the door to let me out. But there was silence on the other side.

There was nothing more to it. It felt like being trapped out in the Maze all over again. This time with no escape. I was stuck. This was the end. I was alone in complete darkness.

This is why you shouldn't trust anyone.

You're going to die here alone.

No one is going to save you. Not even yourself.

I fell to the floor and rested my head against the door. Tears fell from my eyes, wetting my cheeks and the collar of my shirt. That was all I could do. No one would come for me. Newt would make sure of that. They would listen to his instructions and stay away.

I felt a pang in my head, sweat forming at the back of my neck. I tried to wipe the tears from my face, but my fingers shook.

Even if I survived the night. Whose to say they won't.

I was going to die here. Forgotten and alone.

Breathing became hard.

My chest growing tighter.

A vile taste in my mouth.

You're going to die.

The blood rushed to my ears.

And it's all your fault.

My heart pounded in my chest.

I couldn't stop the shakes. I couldn't stop anything.

Everything felt so hopeless.

How could he do this to me?

How could he?

Hours, days, minutes. Who know how long passed? All I knew it was a long time and I couldn't move from the floor. The panic had been and gone. No one to help but myself. All I felt now was hopelessness. Dovid of any more emotion. There was nothing more I could give. The energy drained from me.

The one thing that I was certain of.

I survived the Maze when others couldn't.

I could survive this. I didn't need anyone. I didn't need Newt.

Right there and then, the darkness brought back the memory of waking up for the first time in my second life. Sitting here now felt like it was over a lifetime ago that that moment happened. Nothing I had been through here in this time seemed real at all. A small part of me expected the light to once again illuminate with light, and I would find myself back in that cage once again. Only having lived a dream.

That was wishful thinking.

My next job was to think of things to say to him. How our next interaction would play out. I would tell him how I really felt. How this was unacceptable behaviour and I was more than capable of making decisions on my own. I didn't need someone else making them for me. He would have to learn to accept that if he wanted to gain my trust again.

What I hadn't expected was a click from the other side.

There was no way out of this room. It was a one-way system designed to let people in, not out. Meaning, that the lock internal body lay on the inside of the door. That much I knew, mainly because I saw it each time I had entered this room, but also parts kept digging into the small of my back.

So who was opening the door up?

Maybe he had returned in an act of guilt. Serves him right.

I steadied myself from the floor and readied for argument that would ensue. I would not let him get away with this.

The door was pulled slowly open, the hinges creaking from anticipation.

"How. Dare. You–" I cut myself short. I had expected Newt on the other side of the door, with a face of regret. What I hadn't expected was the Leader of the Glade looking as shocked as I was to see me here.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded from me.

"Newt locked me in here," I informed him. His eyes flared with anger.

"I don't have time for this nonsense," Alby dismissed with a sharp wave of his hand. "Go back to the Homestead like everyone else."

"Aren't you supposed to be there too?" I asked him as I limped past.

"Mind your own business. I ain't no leader anymore. That's not my problem," Alby snapped. "Now get back to the Homestead before I drag your arse there."

I stepped back. I noticed my crutches in the corner of the room. They would have to be left behind. I didn't want to get into a fight with Alby over them. He already was scary enough as it was. That, I thought, would tip him over the edge.

I turned my back on him and shuffled back toward the centre of the Glade. The sky hadn't changed much since my short amount of time spent in the Map room. It should have been dark, but the grey ceiling looked over instead. I knew I was running out of time as I quickly hobbled along the path with nothing more than anything around me to support me. I remember falling to the floor in a heavy heap, the pain in my right side flaring up, sharp pains splintering in my head. The next thing I knew the air was colder, my clothes and hair damp from the wetness. I swear I had only just fallen. I gazed up at the sky. The proved to be unhelpful. It still the same-coloured ceiling that had greeted us earlier that morning.

Get moving.

My head pounded. The energy getting up surpassed by the pain I felt everywhere. With the nearest object I made out, I staggered until I was upright on one leg. Swaying like a pole in a very windy day. This wasn't going to end well.

Then everything changed. A familiar sensation taking over me.

A mechanised surge of machinery sounded from inside the Glade, followed by the familiar rolling clicks of a Griever on the stony ground. I froze in fear. They were inside. And this felt very normal.

I took my steps cautiously, trying as best as I could to limit the amount of sound from my feet. A few minutes passed with me painfully making a slow pace towards the Glade; the various Griever sounds penetrating the walls every ten to twenty seconds. The squeal of small engines followed by a grinding spin of metal. The clicking of spikes against the hard stone. Things snapping and opening and snapping. I winced in fear every time I heard something.

Keep moving.

I willed my legs to take the steps back down the path. I had yet to see the strobe lights flicker into the treeline. But, it didn't mean that it wouldn't happen soon.

I eventually made it to the edge of the treeline, the greyness outlining the open space of the Glade. It all sat eerily quiet, no movement from beyond the trees. I shuffled forwards, fear hovering over me like a hawk hunting its prey.

The clicking of spikes against stone echoed across the Glade, it then turning into a deeper, hollower sound. A large shadow fluttered past the upper reaches of the trees, followed by several more, all the right size to be a Griever. And, they were headed straight for the Homestead. I hobbled as close to the open space as I could, making sure that my figure was clouded by the shadows of the trees.

Upon a better view, to my horror, I saw four Grievers climbing up and around the wooden shack. Their spikes piercing the planks as if it were nothing. Lights bounced off in every direction, casting odd beams across the Glade. A few randomly pointed where I stood, but I was sure that none of them noticed me.

Then, another shade flittered across the Glade, this one a whole lot smaller than the rest. A human-sized shape to be exact. It ran towards the Homestead, its leg pounding against the floor.

A moment of thought passed over.

"Alby," I hissed as loud as I could go without gaining the attention of the Grievers. The figure stopped in its tracks and turned to find the source of the sound. I called Alby's name again, thinking that it was him was running towards the Homestead from the Map room. I inched closer, revealing my position. The figure's attention rested onto mine.

That's wasn't Alby.

It was Gally.

His eyes were raged with lunacy; his clothes torn and filthy. Alive, but very twisted.

A sinister smile crept across his lips before he turned away and carried on running towards the Homestead. What on earth was he up to?

I shuffled out of the trees and made straight for the Homestead as fast as I could. Even shifting weight onto my bad leg again. I needed to stop Gally in case he did anything stupid. He had been missing for two days in the Maze, anyone would go mad from that. I certainly would have.

In the midst of running, I watched as Gally threw the door open of the Homestead, dropping to his knees and looking around the room.

"They'll kill you!" I heard him scream. Not far now. "The Grievers will kill you all – one every night till it's over."

Gally staggered to his feet and walked further into the room, seemingly dragging his right leg with a heavy limp.

Mumbled words were exchanged between them next, my ears too far out of range to catch all that was said. I had now slowed down into an antagonising slow shuffle, the pain too much to bear to quicken my speed. A cry erupted from inside the Homestead followed by a heavy thud.

The Grievers outside all twisted their heads to the sound, each one skittling from their original position to find the source of the sound, and kill it.

I edged closer towards the Homestead, not sure as to why I kept getting closer. It only meant certain doom. I stood only twenty metres away from the entrance, my eyes watching the Grievers every move. They had yet to pick up on my presence.

"Gally shut your bloody hole – there's a Griever right out the window. Just sit on your butt and be quiet – maybe it'll go away." Newt's voice hissed from inside. From my position outside of the Homestead, I could see Gally shoved into a corner with Newt standing near him, his hands up.

"You don't get it, Newt. You're too stupid – you've always been too stupid. There's no way out – there's no way to win! They're gonna kill you, all of you – one by one!" Screaming the last word, Gally threw his body toward the window.

"No!" Newt yelled, running towards the window. The Grievers above reacted violently to the sound, their spikes piercing their skin in delight.

They had to be warned. There was no choice about that. They had every right to survive. They had been here far longer than I. That was not a death they should succumb too. Chuck shouldn't have to face that.

"Four!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "They are four!"

And all four pairs of eyes fell onto me. Hunger spiked within them. They had found their prey. I ignored the commotion inside the Homestead, it didn't matter anymore, for I was a dead woman walking now.

A whimper escaped my lips and I took a step back. Why weren't they making a move? Why did they just stare?

A mechanical whirring sound erupted behind me, lights flashing all behind and reflecting a shadow onto the front of the Homestead. My shadow. I glanced over my shoulder, a shaky breath of air escaping me.

Behind I saw something that I wished I would never see again, a creature that I haunted my nightmares every time I fell asleep.

I forced myself to back away, taking little steps. But, my legs wouldn't move, did not want to cooperate with my brain. It was that feeling all over again where I'm trapped in my own body again. All I could do was stare at the creature in front of me and wait.

The commotion within the Homestead escalated, the Grievers now attacking the building. That didn't distract either of us. Those red beady eyes piercing into mine, a low moaning bellowing in its belly.

"Clarke, I'm here," I heard Newt's voice behind me. Close but not close enough. "Just take small steps back."

The one person that I didn't want to see was the only person that was keeping my from screaming in fear. All I had to do was follow his voice backwards and I would be safe.

Trust no one.

The Griever's spikes continually pierced the skin, shooting up. The force against me was strong. No matter how hard I pushed against it, nothing would move. I was frozen in place. This time, whatever or whoever was doing this, they were making sure that the job was done right.

"Newt," I half-whispered to him. "I can't move."

The Griever's tail curled behind it, the spike sparkling in the dim light. That was the deadly part.

"No one ever understood what I saw, what the Changing did to me! Don't go back to the real world, Thomas! You don't … want … to remember!"

The creature screamed and charged toward me, the noise releasing me from my hold. I stumbled backwards, falling onto the ground. I tried to pull myself across the floor but wasn't quick enough. I knew my time was up.

The pincer crashed into the earth beside me with such great force it shuttered the ground. I rolled away trying to get away from the deadly thing. Only to roll into one of its long metallic legs. The Griever noticed, slime dripping from its mouth. It towered over me. It's eyes filled with rage and fury. There was nothing more I could do. How did I beat this thin last time?

The pincer curled around my bad leg. It growing tighter with each wrap. My eyes widened. I bent forward to try and at least pull it from me…

Crunch.

Pain like no other ripped inside me. I couldn't hold back.

Crunch.

It didn't stop. I felt it crushing every part of my leg until the it wrapped itself around the bone. Stars flew across my eyeline. I barely recalled be flung around the Glade and dragged across the floor toward the Maze. Everything a haze of pain.

There was one clear moment. One thing that stuck with me.

I flung my arm out at the golden-haired figure. "Please don't leave me." The words releasing from me with such force.

The picture. A broken boy who was too late and peace flying away.