The maze had every opportunity to trap, trick, tear, and erase us.
But it didn't.
We eventually collapsed in a small cavern. More like a pocket dug into the side of our current corridor – there was barely enough room for us and a fire, so long neither of us was so inclined to stand or sit up straight. Lining the dusty clay walls was a thick, grotesque web of tree roots. They reminded me of veins.
The glowing kid, who was not glowing anymore, crawled in and fell to the ground. He didn't move.
I slid in after him and, after making sure he was curled against the wall and not in any danger, lit a fire in the center of the shelter. The silent blue flames left me every opportunity to sit and listen.
You're going to be so proud when I show you how patient I've become. I can sit here for hours on end, just listening. Not eating or dozing off or even getting distracted!
I got distracted this time, though. The kid I'd dragged along was bleeding, and Connor and Travis had warned me that monsters were like dogs. They could find you by the scent of your blood.
My first-aid skills did not go above Neosporin and a Band-Aid (I could do those very, very well, I was proud to say; Sis had clapped and cheered for me when I'd finally done it right, not overdone the medicine and aimed the bandage expertly, even pulled it tight in that way only a true artist could), but I didn't have any of those, so I tied off his blue windbreaker as tightly as I could around his waist. Telltale red still seeped through, so I pulled it tighter, and that'd have to do the trick.
As I finished, I caught one open eye staring at me.
He said nothing as I finished my patient listening. For a moment I wondered if he would be proud, too, but decided it was silly; something told me he had never felt pride in anyone but himself for a long, long time.
After a while I noticed that he wasn't entirely passive, though. His hand was moving. It was a slow process broken periodically by a defeated stillness, but, little by little, his fingers found his pocket.
Beneath the captivating, lackadaisical choir of the maze, his breathing had become ragged. Whatever he was looking for in his pocket, he didn't reach.
I'd already made a bandage. And the maze required my attention. The walls were shifting out there. If I listened really close, I could hear the clicks and hisses of its smaller components, of its traps being fired and reset. Of the demons inside. The maze was always telling this infinite story.
Infinite. There'd always be a maze. And while sometimes I was really, really scared of this place and longed for my nightlight, that thought was comforting.
In an odd way, this maze was familiar.
I turned from it and emptied the pocket. There was a small knife, several candy wrappers (but no candy, I noticed with a rumbling stomach and a wistful reflection on my discarded sandwich), and a bag full of-
-Oh, dear gods. Bread pudding.
"This is what you were looking for, isn't it?" I asked, but the kid's eyes had closed once more.
I snorted and ate one square. It didn't taste like bread pudding, but it was warm and squishy and sweet. It seemed to unfurl in my mouth. I gasped as the colors of our pathetic shelter sharpened and the stabbing ache in my stomach faded.
It was medicine of some sort.
As I looked at it, and felt the starvation retreat at an alarming rate, I dimly recalled Connor and Travis telling me never to eat this unless necessary. And to never eat a lot.
"You got some nice loot," I told him, shoving the bag into my pocket. My mouth watered and my fingers trembled there; as around me, the maze groaned, I could still taste the sweet ambrosia and feel its warmth and, without trying too hard, could almost see Bianca next to me.
I tore it back out and stared at it, licking my lips. So hard to put it away. But I knew the benefits of saving food. Besides, I didn't want to be caught stealing it.
My gaze slid sideways nonchalantly at that just to be sure he wasn't looking. Of course he wasn't; he was sleeping soundly now, as the growing stain in the makeshift bandage promised.
I looked at the ambrosia, then at him.
What on earth was I doing?
"Hey. Hey," I said, shoving at his shoulder. "Don't… Look, I got your stuff. Here." I shoved a crumbling cube at his mouth. It squished between my fingers. But his lips moved and a dry, bashful tongue crawled forward.
I broke the ambrosia into smaller pieces and dropped them into his mouth one by one. They were small enough that he could slowly chew and, eventually, swallow heavily.
oOo
"Amateur."
I blinked, swiping vigorously at the crust over my eyes. My joints were so stiff I swear they made more noise than there usually was down here.
"Hm?" I asked, before remembering who the kid was. Kind of hard to forget, seeing as he was glowing and all.
I scowled. "Well. I guess you're not gonna die."
"Psh! We both would've, the way you fell asleep during watch!" he laughed. It wasn't a nice laugh. "Luckily it wasn't too long before I woke up and took over. I'd be happy to teach ya if you've got something worth my time."
Your life, maybe? I thought. But I didn't trust my faulty, traitorous tongue around most people, let alone this one.
He turned and poked at the edge of the blue flames. "With a fire going too, man. You need help."
"I usually do fine down here on my own," I finally burst.
He looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow, an expression that, had it belonged to Bianca, I would have deemed my suicidal obituary. "Really, now? How long have you been here?"
I counted on my fingers. "Um… Since before Christmas. I leave now and then. What day is it now?"
"I don't know," he said. "But it can't be that long, seeing as a helpless wannabe like you isn't dead."
"It's been a while. We're at least in January. I survived that long."
"Luck," he snorted.
I scowled, not in the mood to debate why the maze hadn't tricked me or what it might be planning in its seething act of passivity, and doused the fire with a snap of my fingers. He blinked at it in mild shock before composing himself again. "I… It's not luck!"
"Yes it is," he smirked, and pulled the pocketknife from his jeans.
"Is not!" I yelled. It wasn't just luck. It couldn't be. What about all it'd taken not to scream when the demon found me in the cave with the odd engravings? All the effort into not looking back? The fight with the dog?
Luck was part of it. But not all. Luck wasn't going to bring Bianca back to me.
It can't be luck. Can't be.
…Is it?
By all rights, the maze should have killed me by now. I already knew that. So what else could it be?
I don't know. But not luck.
"Prove it," the kid said.
"Luck doesn't exist," I snarled triumphantly. There. Beat that.
He raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and began to file his luminous nails.
I sighed and, carefully, peered outside our small cave. I was careful not to stick my head out – that was very bad, often resulted in decapitation – but managed to glance down the corridor both ways.
Hollow groans reached my ears.
"Nothing audible is nearby," I whispered. "If we want food, we'll have to leave now."
"You don't give your superior savior orders, mister."
I sighed and turned to look at him. "Alright. Fine. What do you think we should do?"
He stuck the knife between his teeth and flossed thoughtfully. After a moment he whipped the knife out and pointed its dripping tip at me rapturously. "First rule of the maze; communication. You know how to communicate with it, right?"
"Yeah."
"Well, you're gonna have to communicate with me if you expect me to help find your sorry butt food. And I suppose I'll be forced to communicate with you, too, if I want to receive my payment. So we need names."
"You can call me Minos," I said, and then felt a rush of pride at the fake name.
"Minos. Obviously farce, but alright. You'll need a respectful title for me, now… The way you've spoken to me already is almost unforgivable…" He pondered. "Aha! What was that song called? Mr. … Mr. Bombastic. That's what you'll call me, got it?"
"Whatever."
He raised an eyebrow again.
I sighed. "Yes, Mr. Bombastic."
"There ya go, kid. Second; follow my orders. Because I'm smart I'll give ya enough space to think on your own and confuse the maze, but you put one toe out of line, we're through, alright?"
"W… Yes, Mr. Bombastic."
"Third; if you die, I ain't going out of my way to tell anyone. So you better not have family expecting you. It's bad for my rep to go delivering bad news, anyway. Unless maybe you got a hot relative. Then I can comfort them."
I wasn't sure how to answer that.
What are you thinking?!
"I have a sister," I rushed. "But… but if I die, I guess you won't have to break it to her. And, uh… no comforting her."
"Alright. Fourth-"
"Mr. Bombastic, we're wasting time. I'm hungry."
He sighed heavily. "Fourth; no whining. I can't stand all the complaining. You bring everything onto yourself, right? So you can't say nothing about it. Your fault entirely. If you die and I live, or if I get to the food first, it's not because I'm a jerk. It's because you screwed up. I ain't playing no dirty blame-game."
I glared at him.
"Fine, fine! We'll go! Just remember why you can't keep up with all this later," he rolled his eyes. I glanced around the corridor once more and crawled out.
Groans to the right. A slow, periodic clicking to the left. It was accompanied by a dragging noise. It sounded ages and ages away, the way the echo had become lazy and the sound bled around itself, but here that didn't mean much.
I waited for Mr. Bombastic to crawl out before standing, but for whatever reason, the glow that marked him did not move.
"You coming?" I asked.
A barked laugh. "Ha! Falling asleep on watch, whiney, disrespectful, impatient… You got quite the list there, kid."
"Minos," I corrected, but crawled back into the cavern anyway.
He was at the threshold, bent low beneath the twining roots above. He was staring at the floor as if it might decide to drop away and leave him to fall to Tartarus.
"…What?" I asked before I noted the hand wrapped around his torso. Blood was leaking through his fingers.
He sat there breathing heavily for five minutes. Then he swallowed. "I really, really hate that pesky sword of yours."
"How bad?" I inquired, automatically reaching for the pocket I knew held the bread-pudding-medicine-things. "Did it just reopen, or…?"
"Wasn't healed enough to move," he gasped. "Deep. I'll… I'll be fine. Mr. Bombastic, remember?"
"That's a nickname."
"That's the beauty of it, stupid. A nickname suits you best 'cause you pick it based off of you, not like your real name. Your real name was necessary but all in all a failed investment. I left mine behind a while ago. If I were you, I'd stick with Minos."
The words were rushed, and quiet. He was falling against the wall as he finished. Not the thing I'd have been talking about at the moment, but I'd registered long before that this was an idiot.
An idiot that would get me killed and that I was really getting sick of, I added as my stomach growled.
Remorse washed over me at that. "…So…"
He smiled as if amused. "You ain't finding this cave again no matter how hard ya try, kid. You sure you've been down here so long?"
I ignored him and looked outside. Two tunnels still, going in opposite directions with no turnoffs as far as I could see. Which meant there were probably several just waiting to appear.
One might think a maze would be impatient. It's not.
"You can go," Mr. Bombastic said.
I nearly jumped and turned to stare at him. "…Go?"
"Yeah. Go. You look like you need permission, and I'm in a gracious mood. Besides, it's really nasty to watch someone starve to death. It's so pitiful."
You look kinda pitiful, too, Mr. Bombastic. But I didn't speak. You don't talk back to adults when they're being nice, and he was the closest thing to an adult I had. Either way he could react like one; take away all games and fun and in this case food with one word – grounded.
Or guilt.
I stared at him for a moment more, then back out at the tunnels. A third option had opened.
I can't starve to death. Bianca's waiting on me.
I bolted out before the new, optimal option was closed.
oOo
The world was so alien.
The quiet, familiar, thoughtful sighs of the maze had been replaced by a mindless scream made of cars and chatter and dozens of other things I couldn't name. Scary things. Bianca had always told me to be cautious but not afraid, even in big cities with big people and big things and big buildings and big dogs and big everything.
Big things weren't as scary as they once were, but they were still scary.
But there was no Bianca now to hold my hand so I quietly held my own, arms held before me, and slid around big people and big buildings and big cars in search of food. Luckily, the food in cities is big, too.
My first provider was a hotdog stand not a block from the street drain that led back down into the maze. Big foods have big smells, of course.
My tongue was drowning when it came into view and as I watched. My fingers twitched, despite how Bianca had taught me to quietly hold her – or in this case, my – hand and stop them from being so impatient. My stomach made a noise that rivaled the city.
The woman manning the stand smiled down at me. "May I help you?"
She was a stranger, and I was one to her, so I didn't say anything. It might've scared her.
Her smile went away, hiding like my eyes wanted to from the blaring sunlight (the maze was never bright). "Do you have parents? Where are your mommy and daddy?"
Minos had said my daddy was in LA. I dimly wondered if she could explain where LA was. I knew it stood for Los Angeles, and that it was in California, but I didn't know anything about either of those.
The woman sighed, removed her red baseball cap topped with a fake hotdog, and undid her ponytail. She leaned over the stand with her chin on her palms. "So. I'm gonna have to guess. Like a game. How many guesses do I get?"
I considered. I'd have liked to stay. The air was nice and that maze… That maze…
It scared me more than the city did. I wouldn't go back, I decided. But just because I was staying above ground didn't mean I wasn't staying here.
Above ground this time, I'll be sure of it. I'm never going down there again. Where the rocks are creepy and the monsters are so smart.
I glanced at the hot dogs she had.
She lifted one. "This is what you want?"
I nodded.
"I can't give it to you. I'd like to, but there's this pesky thing called making a living. Gotta go to college to make a good living, and gotta do this to get into college. But I'll tell you what; if you tell me where your parents are, I can return you to them. And once you're with them they can buy you a hot dog. Maybe I'll even throw in a discount. …You look like your family might need it."
I knew what came next. I was supposed to point around the corner, so she'd go. And while she was gone and the people with dead eyes who wouldn't notice kept walking by I was to commit my sin, my justified sin.
But Bianca had warned me that it was dangerous to not hold a hand in the city. I could get lost. I stood there, still holding my own hand, wondering how I could point without letting it go.
Only for a moment, though. I'd taken bigger risks for her.
I let go of my hand and pointed around the corner.
The lady squinted down the street. "…Okay. I'll lock up and walk you back. I'm sure they're worried."
This was not a problem. As she reached for my hand, I recalled the memory of the dog-headed man, and screamed like I hadn't been able to then.
The dead-eyed people did not care.
The girl did. She flinched back, but her brow scrunched up as if she were annoyed. "Easy. Sorry. I just want to hold your hand, okay? So you don't get lost again?"
I quickly held my own hand again and shook my head. At last, she said something to me in a huff of a sigh and stormed off towards the place I'd pointed.
Take just what you need, I told myself. Bianca had said the same when she'd stolen money from the man in the striped suit. She knew it was wrong, I knew it was wrong, but so long we had one another we had reason to live. And it justified enough.
I didn't realize how much I was taking until several meat sticks were stuffed into my jacket pockets. There was no way this made sense. I didn't need quite this much. Besides, if I saved it like I knew I should, most of it would go bad…
But I could not resist taking more. I was out of there before the lady showed up again.