Chapter Thirty-One
Thomas had thrown his arm across Newt as though it was automatic and even though he was trying to focus on the threat just like Thomas was, there was a part of Newt that was reeling with affection for him. There was a chill in the air that seemed to have a different consistency to the cool night air. It was slimmer, blade-like and edgy and it shivered up his spine like a bad omen.
"Tommy?" he breathed, his mouth close to Thomas's ear. "What d'ya think we should do?"
Thomas barely twitched to acknowledge him, his answer a faint breath.
"Just get ready. We're going to have to make a go of it."
Newt was just beginning to wonder which way they were going to be diving through the water when Thomas's head whipped so far to the right that he could hear it crack. When he turned to look Newt's stomach filled with a dreadful heaviness.
There was another shadowy figure stepping from the trees on the far side. As panic began to flutter in his ribcage he turned the other way just in time to see another one, smaller than the others but just as dreadfully mysterious. Newt felt himself trembling, and it had nothing to do with the cold or the water. He clutched Thomas's arm hard, looking between the shadowed forms as his gaze refused to settle on just one. His heart was racing.
"Thomaswhatdowedo?" he hissed, struggling to keep his voice quiet.
Thomas twisted his arm to catch hold of Newt's shirt and he grabbed a handful, pulling Newt closer.
"Only one way out." he hissed back.
Newt saw he was right. There was the first tribute between them and the familiar part of the forest, and another to the right. The third was by the trees where the forest was finishing, leaving only the left side open to them.
The only problem there was that the left side led to the open ground and the BloodBath centre.
"Bloody fuck."
Thomas snorted humourlessly in response. Newt tensed, ready to run. Thomas's free hand reached out for Aris, and he tapped his thumb on the left side of the boy's head. It was a tiny motion, but Newt noticed. He could only hope the shadowed tributes didn't, though it'd be stupid to hope they wouldn't know they'd run in the only unblocked direction.
"Go!"
Aris was up and off like a shot, his leap from his crouch sending him several feet, giving him momentum. Thomas was right behind him and Newt beside him, hating that running in water had to be so shucking difficult. His legs were uncooperative with dear but he pushed on, his only focus hoping he wouldn't stumble down into the water.
They took a curved route, doing as much to avoid the deeper water as they could without giving the shadows the advantage. Newt didn't risk a glance until they were mere feet from the sandy soil of the left bank. What he saw sent him tripping into Thomas and almost brought them both down. When Thomas tossed him a glance to check on him Newt tried to speak around the terrified closing of his throat. Thomas threw his head round to look and even in the pale grey darkness Newt could see his face paling.
"What the hell?"
Standing by the water where the first figure had stood were now three figures, even the smaller one from the very opposite bank. Newt looked to check and confirmed it.
How did he get there so fast?
In mere seconds the smallest shadowy form had cleared half the circumference of the lake, before they'd even made it to beach.
It was a true horror settling in Newt's stomach then, and even when the unyielding water gave way to the uneven sink of the water's edge it didn't abate. He continued to run, fuelled more by panic than anything else, Thomas right beside him and Aris beside him. They ran as the soft soil gave way to firmer grassland and soon they were nearing the platforms. They were flat pale disks in the dull moonless moonlight, encircling the centre structure like some twisted version of a fairy circle's Sonya used to tell him stories of. They were on truly open ground now and Newt felt how he thought a rabbit must feel when darting across a field as hawks circled above.
"Where?" he panted, too afraid even to glance to the side in case he tripped over something.
Thomas was quiet for a long moment before he gestured to the left again. Newt veered without question, even though he felt full of them. Where were they heading? The closest place to hide beyond the BloodBath centre was beyond the strange stone walls. A Maze, Minho had told them it held. A bloody Maze. What on earth was that for? What good was that?
They ran, skirting the large circle of platforms and continuing. Newt was painfully aware of how out of breath he felt already, adrenaline forcing the air from his lungs before his body had time to absorb the oxygen. Their footsteps were heavy on the compact ground and despite the fact that they were running from three threats they could running right towards others. He wished they'd stayed in the safety of their forest. At least they knew where they were, had places to hide from other tributes, a source of food. They'd left everything behind. Their packs, the water, their supplies. His jacket. The bow.
They were shucked.
They were nearing the giant column of dark shadow that signalled the entrance to the mysterious grey walls when the scream rang out. It was loud and raw in the night, sending the three boys stumbling in surprise. Thomas caught himself on his hands and pushed up again but Newt and Aris went down hard. Aris rolled, surprising both Gladers as he found his feet in seconds, pausing when he glanced over. He bolted to Newt as Thomas reached him and they dragged him up as he took a breath and tried to get his feet under him.
Despite the chill he was sweating, panting helplessly as he began to run with them again. Before the screaming had even ended there came another, and then a third, sending fear and pain into the sky like bats. Newt was still clutching at Thomas from being helped up, his heart pounding so hard he felt it'd break free. They were turned towards the forest as they saw the figures come running from it.
The three of them had stopped, even though he didn't remember doing so. They stood and stared across the huge expanse of flatland between the stone walls and the trees, unable to explain what they were looking at. It seemed like tributes from the whole length of the forest were fleeing it like a stampede of animals, and they weren't even pausing to fight each other. Instead they were running like the devil himself was after them and it made Newt cold all over.
What could be so truly awful they'd run out into open ground without fear of each other?
He didn't know how long they'd stood, holding their breaths as they watched six, ten - fourteen? - tributes flee the forest. A heartbeat? Five? A minute? Two? They didn't say a word, didn't look at each other but he knew they were all waiting without knowing it.
Waiting to see what was chasing them.
He needn't have worried, because at that very moment there was a sound behind him. A quiet sound so chilling and unknown that it filtered through the screaming, cutting through it all like s keen blade. It was almost a click. But more like a click-snap, with a thick and wet sounding dragging noise tailing it off. Newt swore his heart stopped and the Arena around him froze as he felt the cold wind that blew eerily from the opening behind him. The sound came again. A snap-click. Metallic, sharp. The wet drag, like the sound of a bundle of wet clothes on concrete. And then a whirr, like the old computer on his teacher's desk. A cooling fan, she'd called it, his brain supplied unhelpfully.
Dread was leeching into his skin as though the sound itself were coating him in it. He turned his head, a dreadfully long, slow motion. They weren't far from the stone walls. His eyes alighted on a bizarre metal square, a plaque upon the stone as though to signpost the entrance. There were words, raised on the metal and faintly legible in the darkness. Despite his fear of the chilling gust of wind that billowed from the dark hole, despite the sounds filling his ears and turning his brain to jelly Newt read the metal words.
The Maze.
Entry after sunset is ill-advised.
Before his brain could process the odd, out-of-place wording the whirring sound came again. It was much louder now, and followed by the tooth-grinding wet slapping sound. Newt knew he should be running. He knew they should be half-way across the Arena by now, anywhere away from the open where the other tributes could see them. His heart was hammering, so fast it didn't even feel like individual beats. Anxiety crawled on his skin like ants, biting, each clamp of small jaws a warning to turn and run now.
But he was still staring into the darkness as the sounds filled his ears like poison, cementing him where he was. There was a shadow moving in the darkness. There was something in the Maze. His heart kicked up further, jackrabbiting hard. As though in a dream Newt found his legs moving anyway, his feet taking forward. Three steps. Four. Five.
When the occupant of the Maze dragged itself from the deeper shadow with a whir-click-snap-squelch Newt's heart stopped beating altogether.
