Newt left me alone with Teresa while he went up in search of a few Gladers we could trust. I had a feeling I knew who he was getting.

But, man, was he taking his good old time.

I dropped the knife, flexing my fingers for a moment. "Where the bloody shuck is he?" I muttered.

Teresa laughed slightly, "So… You're the only girl here?"

I nodded, "Well, I was yeah, but now there's two of us."

"How long have you been here?"

"About two years or so," I shrugged, "It ain't so bad, or… it wasn't till that shuck Ending or whatever it was started." I wasn't really looking at her. I was scanning over the wax paper tracings, but when I felt her eyes on me I looked up. "Yeah?"

"Oh, it's nothing"

I laughed, "Tommy?"

She blushed, "Well, what about you and Newt?"

I wasn't even phased, "Oh, come on, you have gotta have a better question than that, everyone knows there's something between Newt and me."

She was about to respond when the door opened and in rushed four Gladers. Paul, or I called him Paully just to get on his nerves, Hank, Milo, and Ross (the only one out of the four I could maybe call a friend). Newt was in the front of the group.

"Hey MaC," Ross smiled, blue eyes twinkling.

"Hey, yourself, now get over here and get cutting." I said with a smile, once her was over I showed him the Maps, "Rectangles, about this size, pile 'em there. Newt and Teresa'll do the rest."

Newt told Hank and Milo to go get more Maps from each Box while Paully helped Newt and Teresa trace the Maps onto the wax paper.

Another words appeared. BLEED. "Cheery," I mumbled.

"How did- That's amazing," Milo mumbled.

Newt slapped him on the back, "Plenty more where that came from."

We unlocked a few more letters and we had FLOAT. CATCH. BLEED. DEA.

That was before the Grievers came. We had decided to whole up in the Weapons room and keep working throughout the night, but that didn't mean we could hear the noises.

The clanking of their metal spikes on the ground. The snapping of its pincers, opening and closing… looking for its prey. At the first sound we all froze, looking up at the ceiling and then each other.

It was another hour or two before we finished that word. It was slower goings, pausing every time we heard a Griever.

The word was DEATH.

"Well these are going downhill, what's the next one going to be, Laceration?" I muttered.

"Way to think positive," Hank laughed.

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah well-"

"Just get cutting," Teresa interrupted.

I raised my eyebrows, mumbling, "Demanding, isn't she."

Ross broke out into laughter beside me. I chuckled. "MaC, what did you do now?" Newt asked, trying to sound exasperated, but there was a small upturn playing on the corner his lips which he was trying to hide.

"Nothing," I smiled, but at that moment there was the metallic whirring, and engine sounds of a Griever, which inevitable crushed our brief moment of laughter.

The next word was STIFF. Fitting as that how all of us stood at the sounds of screaming from above. Stiff as a board. Unmoving, staring at the ceiling above. Picturing the catastrophe taking place above our heads.

The screaming came with the crunching of stones, the clanking of metal, and humming of engines.

But gradually the screams became distant and the humming of the small engines could not be heard. And the night was plunged into silence. Complete and utter, silence.

FLOAT. CATCH. BLEED. DEATH. STIFF. PUSH.

Those were the words. All of them. It was almost morning. We'd been working all night. Yawning, I shook my head and put down the knife.

"Tired?" Paully questioned smugly.

"Slim it, Paully," I yawned.

"It's Paul!" He muttered angrily causing me to laugh quietly. Teresa sent me a disapproving look, but I just shrugged, I'd known these boys for as long as I could remember, I believe I had the right to tease them.

"MaC, take a nap," Newt said, "Ill wake you up in a bit." Shrugging, I pulled back a chair and sat back in it, leaning it against the wall and closing my eyes.

"No, don't wake her up!"

"It's almost mid-morning!"

"You think she wants to wake up to your ugly mug?"

"Like you're any prettier."

"You're both ugly shanks, now get outta here." I opened my eyes slowly recognizing Newt's voice. "Sorry about that," he muttered crossing the room.

"Mid-morning, is it?"

"Yeah."

"What happened to 'in a bit'?" I questioned, standing up and stretching a bit.

He smiled sheepishly, "Don't matter now anyways. Come on."

I rolled my eyes following him.

I was impressed to say the least, despite everything that had happened, the dead light, everything falling to pieces, business in the Glade seemed to be proceeding business as usual- farming, gardening, cleaning. "Nice work," I mumbled.

Newt smiled.

But mine faltered. "Newt…" He looked down at me. "Who… was taken, last night?"

He looked down at the ground before looking back at me, "Adam."

"Oh," I said sadly. He… Adam was a good kid. Easily scared, but happy and- never mind it didn't matter, he was gone.

A few boys came running, spitting out something like, "Minho and Thomas are back!"

So Newt and I ran off in pursuit. And sure enough, there they were, standing just inside the West Door, looking dog-tired. "You're the first to come back," Newt said, "What happened?" He had a look of hope on his face, one so pure that I couldn't look. I could tell they hadn't found anything. Minho looked defeated, angry and tired. They hadn't found a shucking thing. "Tell me you've got news."

Minho's eyes were dead, staring at the same spot in the distance, defeated. "Nothing," he said, "The Maze is a big freaking joke."

"What's he talking about?" Newt asked Thomas, confused.

"He's just discouraged," Thomas said, shrugging wearily, "We didn't find anything different. The walls haven't moved, no exits, nothing. Did the Grievers come last night?"

"Yeah," I said nodding sadly.

"They took Adam," Newt finished. He was about to say something else when Minho freaked out, startling Thomas, who took a surprised step back.

"I'm sick of this!" Minho spat in the ivy, "I'm sick of it! It's over! It's all over!" He took off his backpack and threw it to the ground, "There's no exit, never was, never will be. We're all shucked."

I stared after him as he stomped off, my mouth dry as Minho's figure neared the Homestead. Newt pulled me away before I could even say a word to Thomas.