It has arrived. One of the most action-packed chapters I've written so far. Please Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the story twists and Kelle.
! WARNING: This Chapter contains graphic descriptions, continue WITH CAUTION!
-….*...-
-….*...- Chapter 52: -….*...-
-….*...- A Materialized Nightmare -….*...-
-….*...-
Kelle tries to avoid the pounding in her ears, how her spine shivers, and the way her skin grows cold. She's the first to arrive at the Med-hut, and yet she hesitates to walk in. The last couple of times she talked to Alby, he tried to kill her. The Griever's venom poisoned his mind into thinking he had to murder her. Could that serum really have cured him? She doesn't know but refuses to cower in the uncertainties.
So, taking a steadying breath, she creeps into the small building with a ghost-like presence, never once making a sound. Peeking through the doorway, she's surprised to see the boy sitting on the edge of the bed. His back is to her, but he appears lucid- contemplative even with his long dark fingers smoothing over his chin. She stands in silence for the next few moments, waiting for him to make any movement that could tell her he's still dangerous. But his frame remains in its spot the entire time.
The next few people to arrive are Newt, Thomas, and Teresa, the three barging into the Med-hut without a care of how loud they are. Her eyes narrow in suspicion, noticing how the dark-skinned boy doesn't even twitch at the commotion while the three approach her. Newt's palm immediately settles against her elbow, dark eyes warily regarding their Leader.
"Has he said anything?" Kelle whispers to Teresa, who stands behind Thomas at her side.
"No," the girl shakes her head in response.
The four trade wary glances with each other until she looks at Newt. The two share their concerns through a wordless exchange. She knows he doesn't want her anywhere near the stung boy, but she still considers him family. And so, she motions him forward, head tipping to the side in a pleading way. He takes a deep breath to compose himself and locks his jaw to keep his concerns at bay, but he nods in surrender, leading the way into the room where they can address their Leader.
"Alby?" The Brit calls, keeping Kelle placed behind him for good measure. The duo walks around the cot, the Second-in-Command slowly sitting next to the unresponsive boy.
"Alby," Newt leans closer, chocolate orbs searching for the boy's attention, "you alright?"
The dark-skinned boy's eyes remain lost in a daze, seeing nothing. They wait for a moment allowing the boy time to process, but even as the seconds pass, he makes no response to Newt's inquiry, let alone any attempt to speak. And so, slowly and with the utmost caution, the Keeper of the Grivers draws closer. The Brit's hand immediately latches onto her wrist, a warning glimmer in his smooth hickory orbs telling her to be careful. She slides his hand to her shoulder in acknowledgment, kneeling at the dark-skinned boy's feet with a grunt.
"Alby," she starts, peeking up into his dark stare.
He hardly blinks and continues the ignorance of his surroundings as the rest of the Keepers arrive, filling the room to the brim. Tension pulls at everyone's nerves as they watch the girl communicate with their Leader.
"Can you hear me?" She whispers, casted hand carefully leaning on his leg, "It's Kelle."
She notices that the thick skin under his pants isn't scalding to the touch, telling her that he isn't trapped under the throes of his fever any longer. She bites her lip and swallows, the fright of his response nearly tearing her apart.
"It's been a little bit," She explains, shaking her head to rid her body of the fear coursing through her veins, "but Alby, I think I've just found a way out of the Maze."
Sparkling oceanic orbs meet deep abysmal pools, and her skin runs over with gooseflesh at the sorrow embedded in the confines of his gaze.
"I'm going to finally get everyone out of here," She declares, words trembling in her throat under the profoundness of their presence. But to her dismay, Alby shakes his head in disapproval.
"We can't-" his small trembling voice eventually comes, and he swallows to steady it, "We can't leave. They won't let us."
Her spine trembles, features growing ghostly in the lanternlight of the room. But her brow folds, and her head tilts in inquiry while she asks, "What are you talking about?"
"I remember."
The words ring in everyone's ears, an alien sound to the Gladers that never thought such a thing was possible. A few of the boys look at each other in confusion, and she too, glances at Newt in shock. The blond steals himself, nodding for her to continue and gently squeezing her shoulder to reassure her of his support.
Taking a deep breath, she gathers her words before prodding even further, "What do you remember?"
His bottom lip trembles, and those plunging pits of coffee grow glassy in a case of twinkling tears, "Everything…"
She patiently waits for him to continue, the older boy struggling through his words.
"I remember who put us here, the reason why, and-" his arms wave around animatedly before his dark orbs settle on her, "and you."
She gulps, the whites of her eyes appearing to her Leader.
"I remember you, Kelle," he mutters, a strikingly apparent tear escaping his eye to smooth down his dark cheek.
She gasps in horror but remains firm, never blinking.
"You were different from the rest of us because you came from a different place. You were special, and they hated you for it," he shakes his head, gaze lowering to her hand still placed delicately on his leg, "But you never left us. Even when you were given the option to go back, you chose to stay with us."
"I never understood that about you," His brow folds while his calloused palm slowly wraps around hers in a foreign gentleness she never knew he was capable of, "But that doesn't matter because you're here now. And I'm glad you stayed."
She offers a broken smile to the boy, salty water stinging the edges of her vision while she accepts the peaceful gesture.
"Of course, Gramps," She whispers in reassurance, "I'll never leave you."
Clearly, she doesn't know exactly what he means. The explanation of the past was startlingly vague, and the information given could mean anything. There were still too many things veiled in secrecy, so all she can do is offer her comfort.
But to everyone's growing curiosity, another voice inquires from behind her, the Greenie approaching her back, "What else do remember?"
"You," Alby seethes, startling her with the frightening scowl he directs at Thomas. More droplets traverse the plains of the Leader's features while he shakes his head in dissatisfaction, "You were always their favorite. Always."
A commotion of alarmed voices erupts from outside, and she perks up, nerves instantly tingling in curiosity.
"Why did you do this?" Alby weeps, shoulders trembling while he searches the teen for answers, "Why did you come here?"
Having to know what is transpiring outside the Med-hut, she lifts herself from the floor, grunting at the tired twinge in the muscles of her leg.
"Listen, Alby, we'll be right back," she explains, steadying his hunched frame with her hands on his arms as he buries his face into his rough palms, "Just stay here."
He doesn't offer a response, and yet she doesn't wait to hear one from him, leaping out of the room with another command falling from her lips for the Med-jacks to stay and watch over the distraught boy. With the group of people, she had been in the building with, save for the Med-jacks, on her heels, the Keeper of the Grievers jogs out into the dusky air. Her sharp azure eyes widen in terror as she stares at the entrance of the Maze, their gates still gaping open despite the absence of day.
"What's going on?" Newt asks a nearby Glader, but she sprints ahead before she can hear the answer.
Arriving at the doors, her quivering cobalt pools travel the height of the cement, wondering why they aren't shut. While she gapes, Newt arrives at her side, hand immediately wrapping around her elbow as he catches his breath. The entire Glade stands before the Maze, gazing into its dark confines in a terrified stope.
"This isn't good," she mumbles under her breath, one of her most feared nightmares coming to life before her eyes.
But before she can open her mouth again, a deafening alarm blasts through the chilled air, causing everyone to flinch in shock and smash their hands over their ears. The sound stops, and Newt instinctively pulls her body closer, guarding her. Rusty hinges, old gears, and scraping concrete screams, and everyone whips around to watch the other side of the Glade's high walls split open.
"No," she trembles, her eyes snapping to the other two doors that slide open, creating four entrances for the Grievers to enter their home. The Gladers gape unable to comprehend what is happening around them. But she's lived through this countless times in the deepest recesses of her darkest dreams. So she is the first to snap out of her daze.
"Alright, everyone go to the Council Hall now!" She commands in a loud voice. Some of the boys flinch while others scramble to obey her orders.
"Chuck," she calls, striding away from the Second-in-Command to pull the little boy's scared features into her gentle palms.
"I want you to go with them," she explains, thumbs brushing the pale plains of his round cheeks, "Start barricading the walls and doors, but don't close them until we get everyone inside."
He nods vigorously, and she smiles in reassurance, arm shooting out to grab a nearby Keeper who happens to be Zart.
"Go with him," She orders, fist taking his shirt to emphasize her point, "listen to his instructions, make sure all of the boys get inside, and if you get attacked, scream for me."
The bleach-blonde voices his understanding before he takes off with the young boy at his side. She watches them leave for a few seconds before she turns back to the other Keepers that remain in place.
"Minho, Gally," she calls their attention, and they step forward like soldiers ready to carry out their general's commands, "go to Newt's old room. I stocked it with extra weapons."
"Grab everything you can carry and meet us at the Council Hall," She takes their shoulders in her strong grasp, hard eyes searching theirs for any sign of doubt, "Move fast, keep your eyes up, and ears open. If you find any of the Gladers, bring them with you."
"Good that," Minho agrees, grasping her wrist to offer his reassurance. Gally's jaw locks in determination, offering her a firm nod while his sharp eyes glint dangerously from under his ferociously curved brows.
Her nostrils flare, and she pushes them off, her strong voice chasing them, "Call if you need help."
Turning to the last group, she takes them too in her hands, words smooth and strong like a mighty waterfall that drowns out their fears, "Thomas, Teresa, I want you to head to the Med-hut."
The Greenie nods along, the girl at his side bearing the same determination that refracts in his hazel orbs.
"Get Alby and the Med-jacks. It's going to be slow going, but I want you to move as fast as you can and don't ever stop."
Thomas shakes his head, "What about you and Newt?"
She glances at the Brit at her side, a fierce scowl of strength buried in the folds of his features. She takes a deep breath, "Newt will go with you. I'm going to stay behind and buy you guys some time."
"But-"
"Thomas!" she snaps, warm palm pressing against the firm plain of his chest to prevent him from staying, "It'll be alright. I'm right behind you."
His nostrils flare, shaking his head in disagreement.
"Tommy, please," she begs, words breaking in her throat, "I need you to make sure they get to that Council Hall."
He stays rooted to the ground, his telltale stubbornness refusing to be defeated, but he falters at the other girl's voice.
"Thomas," Teresa tugs on his arms, watery steel orbs staring at him in longing, "We should go."
His hazel orbs begin sparkling in the moon's light, and he glances back at Kelle one more time. She nods, gesturing him forward in consolation. His shoulders lower in defeat before he finally turns back to Teresa, taking her hand to lead her away.
"Are you sure about this, Love?" Newt's soothing voice tickles her ears, and she shuts her eyes to keep her composure.
"Yes," she gasps, not at all reassuring as she turns to the Brit, "I need to know you're safe in order for me to protect everyone."
He nods, pursing his lips. She grits her teeth, pushing him off her body despite the pain it causes her heart.
"Now go!" she shouts.
Like a lost puppy, Newt's bright round doe-eyes stare back at her in longing before he finally turns to obey her command, sprinting away to catch up with Thomas' figure.
With the Glade's safety in the balance, the Keeper of the Grievers turns to the Maze, her entire existence hardening into an unbreakable warrior. Every moment that she has ever lived- all the pain, the fun, the love, the trauma, the good, and the bad has brought her to this point in time where she has been given the opportunity to protect the Glade. Just like she promised.
Her eyes snap open, flashing dangerously under the moon's first few rays of pale light, and her fingers curl around her bow, notching an arrow when a bone-straining screech echoes down the corridors of the Maze. A Griever bounds toward her, metal legs scraping against the hard grey cement. She draws the string back and grits her teeth against the pang in the torn muscles of her chest, but the wood creaks under her strength, holding proud as she aims at the monster's weak spot tucked under its belly. The metal arrowhead glints in the moonlight, flying through the air upon her release. Hitting its mark, the Griever screams, crumpling into a heap that tumbles toward her.
She steps to the side, switching her bow for the last of her machetes as the ball of flailing metal limbs and slimy flesh flies past. Fighting the disruption of its mechanical cognitive, the monster claws at her, metal tail swiping at her head. She ducks, twirling through the air like an acrobat and drawing closer. An opening in its movements allows her to finally bring her blade down for the kill. The weapon buries into the meaty neck of the creature, dark green goop spraying out of the wound when she twists, finishing the Griever's life. The gears grind together, whirring to a sputtering stop, the large body growing still.
"One," she mutters, retrieving the machete from the corpse, dark stone eyes watching the fluids ooze out of the gaping hole.
"Kelle!" a voice abruptly screams from the heart of the Glade, and she whirls around, "Help!"
She immediately leaps into a sprint toward the Homestead, heart hammering in her chest like a drummer set for war. She growls, seeing three different Grievers tearing apart the large building in their attempt to get to the boys on the inside.
"Hey!" she calls, readying another attack from her bow. Each of her arrows lands their marks on the monsters' bodies, their beady eyes turning to her figure on the ground.
"Let's dance," she seethes, taking her machete from its holster again.
The three creatures roar in unison, clambering off the roof to charge her lone figure. She dodges each of their attacks, sliding across the ground and bouncing off their frantic frames when she can.
"Kelle?!" Minho's frantic call comes from the building as he bursts out the door. He skids to a stop, accidentally drawing one of the Greiveres toward him. His eyes widen, but he holds his ground, readying one of the wooden spears in his hand.
She curses, twirling out of the way from the two monsters as they clash together, clawing at each other. While they struggle, she rushes after the monster attacking the boy.
Minho yells, throwing his weapon at the Griever. The sharp tip of the javelin narrowly misses the creature's head, burying into its shoulder. Stumbling in its assault, she takes the opportunity to grasp its metal tail which lifts her into the air, launching her forward as it uses the claw-like end to rip the wood from its flesh. She soars forward, tumbling in front of the boy to take her stand and protect him.
"Give me another spear," She demands, keeping her sharp eyes on the monster as it finally wiggles the other weapon free, "Then get out of here."
"I can't. Gally's inside getting some of the boys out," the Runner objects, gesturing to the crumbling building.
"Then help him!" she orders, taking the spear Minho offers her, "I'll keep them busy."
"Right," the teen nods, rushing back into the Homestead.
Twirling the javelin between her hands, she lets out a battle cry, plunging forward into another fight. She slips under the Greiever's massive snapping jaws, dragging her blade along its abdomen. The monster stutters for a moment, wailing into the night air with its hallowing voice. Taking advantage of its delay, Kelle lifts herself from the ground, noticing that the other two creatures have finally managed to unravel themselves from each other.
She twirls with a scream, ripping her sharp blade through the tail end of the current Griever attacking her, and it screeches again. The metal flailing limb falls to the ground with a clunk, whirring in shock from its severed nerves while the rest of its body whirls around to find her. With frenzied hatred radiating from its eyes, the beast lunges for her, and yet its proceeds are clumsy due to the loss of its tail, allowing her to drive her blade deep into the meaty brain of its head. The momentum of its attack pushes her back, but she holds firm, boots scuffing across the slime coated-grass. She grunts, turning the blade, and the eyes of the Griever roll to the back of its head, skidding to a dead stop.
"Two," She pants, quickly rising to her feet, but her trusty blade is lodged firmly in the creature's head. Her boot squelches into the soft mush of its brains, using it as leverage to yank on the machete. It remains stuck, and she curses, head whipping around at the pounding approach of the other two Grievers. Abandoning her weapon, she takes her spear and steps back, analyzing her next moves.
The other two monsters have circled her, galloping at her from either side of her frame. An insane idea occurs in her mind, but her attention is drawn off by a scream of horror,
"Kelle!" Minho runs toward her, a small group of boys, guarded by Gally, following behind. But they won't make it before the monsters crush her between their snapping razor-bladed teeth.
So she takes a deep breath, kneeling on the grass to follow through with her plan. The blood rushes in her ears, her heart attempts to break free from the cage of her ribs, and the adrenaline makes every muscle in her body shake.
'This is insane.'
The Grievers collide with a loud crash of metal limbs and a slap of grungy flesh. The impact knocks her back, but not before she was able to impale their heads on her long spear. With their brains skewered on her spear, their limp jaws slide to kiss each other, and their bodies shut down with a final groan of gears.
Sprawled across the earth, the girl moans, the crash of the creatures ruthlessly smacking her into the ground where the wind was knocked out of her lungs. And yet she can't afford to stay down. Her brow furrows in determination, elbows wedging under her frame to lift herself from the trampled grass.
"Kelle!?" The Keeper of the Runners wails as he rushes toward her, "Holy shit, are you good?"
His firm arm braces her back, lifting her up into a sitting position when he crashes to his knees at her side. Taking a breath, she grits her teeth, hurriedly taking Gally's palm so he can lift her from the earth. Glancing at the group of boys, they all stare at her with mouths ajar.
"You're shucking crazy," Gally wags his head, eyeing the corpses.
She huffs, rolling her eyes. But all of her previous injuries come to life with blazing intensity, causing her to clutch her shoulder with a sharp gasp. She grows still, and her skin pales at the tacky fluid that immediately coats her palm. Pulling her hand back, she cringes at the deep painting of crimson on her skin and the dark currents of warm blood soaking through the bandages and draining down her front.
"Kelle," Minho's voice comes, fragile and concerned.
Peeking up at the Asain, she finds his dark eyes rimmed with horror. She shakes her head, taking what's left of her shirt to cover the injury.
"It's fine," she waves him off, motioning them forward, "We've just got to keep moving."
Walking past the two Keepers, she misses the doubtful glance that Minho and Gally share before they follow her stride. Returning to the Griever with her machete lodged in its brain, she takes her dagger from her hip, jams it into the meat, and carves away the excess skin. Finally yanking the blade from its body, Kelle turns back to the boys.
"Four down," she declares, "Six to go."
They nod in understanding, following her as she leads them away. While they walk Kelle's sharp slate orbs study their surroundings like a hawk, hurriedly taking an extra machete and restock of arrows from the boy's arsenal they retrieved from the Homestead. Closing in on the Med-hut, a breath of relief flies past her lips when she sees the Med-jacks, Teresa, Thomas, Alby, and Newt carefully approaching them. Her eyes soften, glittering in the moonlight as she looks at the Second-in-Command. He too, appears relieved to see her, striding forward to wrap her in a firm embrace.
But they never make it to each other.
A Griever bursts from the Deadheads, pouncing at Kelle with an animated growl. Without any time to respond, she's only able to brace for the impact by slipping her blade into the creature's open mouth. The collision pushes her against a tree, her back painfully scraping across the rough bark. Wedged between the hard surface and snapping jaws of death, she grunts, muscles straining to keep the beast's teeth from sinking into her stomach.
"Kelle!" multiple cries of distress come from the group while they ready their weapons to help.
But she takes matters into her own hands, angling the sharp edge of her blade further down. Using its hind legs to push toward the female, the Griever's teeth catch the edge of her shirt, yet her machete cuts into its mouth. Wiggling the sharp weapon, the bone of its jaw finally gives, and she slices the bottom half of its mouth off. She slips free, falling to the ground in a tumble. The monster stumbles back in shock, mandibles clawing at the missing piece of its head.
Lifting herself from the soil, she uses its delirium to jam her blade into its eye. She screams, pulling the monster around to grind its head into the ground. The tip of the blade buries into the soft earth, and she holds it in place with one hand while her other takes her dagger from her hip. The creature's metal legs lift to knock her away, but she reels her small blade above her head before they can reach her. She tears the smaller weapon through the thick column of the monster's neck, tearing through wires and muscle. Severing its nervous system, the body slumps to the ground, completely separated from its mangled head.
"Five," Kelle heaves as she gradually stands, the heavy skull slipping off her blade and landing on the ground with a profound thunk. She wheezes with the exertion, her legs sway, and her vision blurs at the edges. Warm arms are there in an instant cradling her frame while she realigns her senses.
"Bloody hell, Love," Newt mutters, ripping his wide brown doe eyes away from the juices oozing out of the corpse to study her figure, "you alright?"
She nods through her heaving breaths, Griever-blood-coated arm lifting to swipe the perspiration from trickling down the sides of her face.
But his soothing hickory orbs immediately notice the smear of claret across the plain of her chest and sharp collar bones.
His warm palms cradle her frame against him while entreats, "Kelle-"
"I'm fine," her voice splinters, the lie like poison on her tongue, "It's fine, we've just got to keep moving."
His features shatter in pain and grief, but he doesn't argue. Rather, he nods, brushing stray strands of her sun-bleached hair behind her ear, "Lead the way."
Taking one last deep breath of his musky scent, she pulls away and urges the group forward.
"Alright, stay with me," she calls, guiding them toward the Council Hall, "Stay alert, stay sharp."
While they approach the large building in the corner of the Glade, she refuses to acknowledge that her fingers, coiled around her machete, tremble, struggling to keep the weapon in her grasp. Deep in the back of her mind is a voice screaming in distress because of how much blood she's losing through the massive hole in her chest. But she can't afford to stop and address the wound. So she plows forward, screaming in determination when another Griever leaps from the shadows. Her bow thrums in her ears with each arrow that whizzes from her fingertips, finding their rightful places in the Griever's body.
"Keep moving," she shouts, pushing the boys along so she can take her stand against the monster to protect them, "Get to the Council Hall!"
The creature screeches, ripping the last of her arrows from its head. But as it whips around to face her, she launches a nearby lantern at its body, the glass shattering against its slimy flesh. The oil inside the container immediately combusts, turning into a liquid fire that coats the beast's entire body. Another animated wail echoes into the night as it rears like a horse, legs, mandibles, and tail flailing around in a panic to put the flames out.
Tossing another lantern at the Griever, the blaze expands, growing hotter by the second. The bright angry flames lick at the dark night air, refracting in Kelle's sharp orbs while she approaches the creature. With tact, the Keeper slices through each of the monster's legs, the heat making their metal brittle and wires easy to cut through.
A cry of rage falls from her lips as she slices through its tail, the large hunk of its body hitting the burning ground with a thunk. Limbless and defenseless, she smirks, a dangerous glint forming in her orbs as she takes yet another lantern.
"Burn in hell," she snarls, tossing the last of the containers onto the creature's body without a single shred of remorse.
Turning her back, Kelle ignores the screams of the Griever as it's cooked alive, unable to escape the fury of the bright hot flames.
"Six," she puffs, fighting the lethargy that threatens to knock her off her feet. But she refuses to acknowledge her body, opting to keep her attention on the task at hand. So an urgency comes to her stride as she approaches the Council Hall, relieved to see that all the boys have made it inside.
"Is everyone here?" She immediately asks Chuck and Newt to which the boys nod.
"Everyone is alive and accounted for," The Second-in-Command reassures upon seeing her skepticism.
She opens her mouth to speak again, but a bone-scratching roar ripples through the air, making the curly-haired boy flinch in shock.
"Alright, get inside," she urges, pushing them along, "Let's go."
Filing into the dark space, Kelle directs a few of the Builders in bracing the door with some extra beams of wood. As they finish the task, she instinctively draws closer to Newt. The clinking metal of the monsters' legs grows closer, tingling on everyones' skin. She hushes the group with her finger pressed to her lips. The Gladers follow her command, holding their breaths to not make a sound.
Gurgling gears rumble from outside the walls, the last four Grievers no doubt prowling around the large building in their search. She carefully unsheathes one of her machetes, the strong steel shining in the few alabaster rays that peek through the roof. She keeps a watchful eye on the walls, and her ears fine-tune into every click and groan. A firm hand seizes hers when something hard hits the roof, making everyone duck in shock. Kelle's intense gaze studies the ceiling, watching the streams of dust fall from the old beams as a creature crawls across the creaky wood.
The group slowly moves away from the middle of the room, pressing their backs to the walls. But her sparkling cerulean orbs widen in horror at a singular boy left in the center.
"Look out!" she shouts, leaping forward to grab the Glader and yank him out of the way. Just as she does so, the Griever's sharp tail bursts through the roof, grabs the big support beam, and rips it out of its place.
The straw ceiling collapses inwards, knocking her off her feet. She rams into Newt's body, and his arms immediately wrap around her waist. The two tumble, caught in the catastrophe of the building crumbling to bits. Newt takes the brunt of the fall with a grunt, back scraping against the hard stone floor. But despite the shock, he moves his hands to guard her head, random beams and pieces of woodwork raining down in the limited space. Once the ruin settles, she coughs, the dust coating her throat in a thick paste that makes it hard to breathe. A groan rumbles into her ear from the boy's chest, and so she quickly shakes herself from the rubble. Mounds of dirt and random sticks slip off her back as she lifts herself to kneel over the boy.
"Newt?" she calls, eyes frantically searching the dark space for his scrunched features, "Are you hurt?"
He too, hacks up the filth before wagging his head, "No, I'm alright."
She sighs in relief and clambers off the Brit, pulling him up while she observes their surroundings.
"Is everyone alright?" She calls, steadying Newt on his feet while searching the debris. Nods of affirmation are given, and she sighs in relief, turning her attention to find the weapon that was knocked out of her hand. But her search is interrupted by a crash, and her vision immediately locks onto the large metal limb that bursts through what's left of the ceiling.
"Chuck!" she screams, launching towards the little boy. The tail whips around, smacking a few nearby bodies away so it has every freedom to seize the little boy's back with its strong claw. Being the first to react, she's able to catch his arm before he's taken. Her boots scuff across the floor as she tugs on his bones, muscles straining to keep him in her grasp. Thomas arrives next, having leaped to action with the Keeper of the Grievers. She groans in frustration, brow folded just as tightly as she holds his wrist.
"Chuck!" Thomas grunts, pulling on his body with Kelle, "Don't let go!"
"No shit!" The little boy cries, hands fumbling to keep their grip around his arms.
A horrendous click rings in Kelle's ears, and her squinted eyes widen in dread upon recognizing the sound. She glances past Chuck's head, watching the Griever's tail expose its sharp metal stinger and prepare to embed it into the small boy's spine.
"No!" She screams, doing the unthinkable and letting go of Chuck's arms. She jumps, wrapping her forearm around the young boy's waist just as Thomas slips. The three are drug across the dirt, gravel scraping against their skin. Thomas' boots hit the wall, halting their kidnapping. That's when another click of gears fills the space. A blood-curdling wail of agony rips itself from her throat as the extensive syringe buries into her flesh, injecting a searing hot shot of venom.
"Kelle!"
Multiple cries of shock ring in her ears as the rest of the boys finally arrive.
With her veins ablaze, she takes her dagger from her hip and slices through the wires and metal holding the stinger. Alby is there too, having taken her machete from the rubble to start hacking the Griever's limb off. The claw finally releases Chuck from its clutches, and the needle falls free from the monster's body. The little boy crumples into the mound of bodies that had been helping hold him down, and she tumbles back with the metal still lodged in her skin. She collapses into sturdy arms, the buzzing of the poison vibrating up her bones and igniting all the other injuries she sustained from a Griever.
"Bloody hell," Newt's terrified voice rings in her ears while he supports her body weight, dark eyes looking at the way her skin grows white and the veins cradling the stinger immediately turn a gruesome shade of black. Fighting to keep her thoughts lucid, she grabs the metal stinger and quickly yanks it out of her flesh. The cold metal leaves behind a large hole bored through the two bones, nearly exiting the other side of her arm. Dropping the syringe to the ground with a clunk, her head slumps against Newt's shoulder.
"It's alright, Kell, I've got you," he soothes, strong arms wrapping around her waist. She shuts her eyes, mentally battling the venom that threatens to destroy her conscience. Thick hot streams of blood gush out of the wound, draining out of her body like a water spout and trickling from the tips of her fingers.
While the Gladers catch their breaths, Chuck peers up at their Leader, muttering his gratitude, "Thanks, Alby."
Glancing at the dark-skinned boy through blurry half-lidded vision, her orbs widen in horror, adrenaline surges through her veins, and she pounces out of Newt's embrace.
"Watch out!"
Another Griver rips through the same hole, latching onto Alby's torso to yank him out of the Council Hall. But the boy catches himself on the roof. She's there in an instant, leaping up to grab one of his arms.
"Hold on!" she screams, legs flailing without the ground underneath them, "I've got you."
But his dark ebony eyes turn to her, a sharp order falling from his lips, "Get them out, Kelle."
She groans, shaking her head and refusing to let go. Just before any of the boys can make it to her aid, she's hauled out of the building, leaving the rest of the Gladers inside…
Well, I'm just going to leave this here for a moment, while I go fix all of my fingernails that I chewed off. Hope you liked it, until next time...
