Returning to the Map Room, we found, Paully, Hank, Milo and Ross looking dead tired. I guess they didn't get the little cat nap I did. Poor shanks. Maps were scattered across the floor, table, chairs and boxes, like a tornado had touched down in the center of the room. The last letter was an H.
FLOAT, CATCH, BLEED, DEATH, STIFF… and then PUSH.
Newt let Thomas in. "Minho still hasn't shown up," he told him, "Sometimes he turns into a buggin' hothead.
"He needs some time to cool off," I said, "He'll be back."
"Sure he will," Hank mumbled. He was cranky. And it was bloody annoying. I hit him over the head and glared at him.
Teresa was in the corner, looking over the sheet on which I'd written down the code words. She glanced up at Thomas before returning to the sheet.
"'Ey, MaC-e!" I raised an eyebrow at the brutal murder of my name.
"Paully, stop butchering my name," I said, "And can we clean some of this? It looks like a tornado hit."
"No, its fine," Newt interjected, "We got the codes, you four can leave." He said, laying hand on my shoulder.
Paully smirked, "Bye, MaC-e!"
"Shuttup, Paully!
The Milo and Ross snickered, mumbling their goodbyes. Hank on the other hand mumbled about doing all that work for nothing as he clomped up the stairs.
"Come check this out," Teresa said to Thomas with a strange smirk pulling at her lips.
"I'll get down on my knees and kiss your bloody feet if you can figure it out," Newt said.
I laughed, "I'd bloody well like to see that." Newt rolled his eyes.
"No doubt this is right," Teresa said ignoring our banter and speaking to Thomas, "Just don't have a clue what it means. He took the paper looking at the six words I'd written down the left side. FLOAT. CATCH. BLEED. DEATH. STIFF. PUSH.
Disappointment washed over his features as he looked up at her, "That's all? Are you sure they're in the right order?"
She took the paper back as she began to explain, "The Maze has been repeating those words for months- we finally quit when that became clear. Each time after the word PUSH, it goes a full week without showing any letter at all, and then it starts over again with FLOAT. So we figured that's the first word, and that's the order."
Tommy folded his arms and leaned against the shelves next to Teresa.
"Cheerful, don't you think?" Newt said.
"Yeah," Thomas replied with a frustrated groan. "We need to get Minho down here- maybe he knows something we don't. If we just had more clues-" he froze, a look of horror flashing over his face.
"Tommy?" I asked, stepping closer.
Newt mirrored my movements, "What's wrong with you? Your face just went white as a ghost."
Tommy shook his head, "Oh… nothing, sorry. My eyes are hurting- I think I need some sleep." He said, rubbing his temples.
"Well," Newt said, laying a hand on Tommy's shoulder, "You spent all night in the bloody Maze- go take a nap."
Thomas glanced between the three of us before nodding and heading for the stairs. "I'm gonna go find Minho, see if he's cooled down any."
It took me all bloody day to hunt Minho down. I had the distinct feeling he was avoiding me, which only served to make me angry. I mean, how juvenile could you get?
I mean, I did catch up eventually, but it was almost evening. We'd have to be inside the Homestead soon. "Minho!" I yelled, running up to him.
He didn't seem to be in a better mood. "What?"
"I- no need to get snappy," I said, "I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You kind of stomped off in a fury this morning."
He sighed, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just got mad is all."
I smiled happily up at him, "See was that so hard?"
He rolled his eyes at me. "We should get inside soon-" he began.
"Ah, we got time," I said bumping into him. "Besides, its gets cramped in there. No use in goin' in until you have to."
Minho shrugged, beginning towards the Homestead anyways. "Alby's up and at em again." He told me as we walked.
"Is he?"
"Head's all bandaged up, but he's thinking clearly again."
"Just need a knock to the head? Shuck it, I could've done that ages ago!" He snorted. "What?" I smiled, "Could've just knocked him right upside the head, and wha-la! All better!"
Minho laughed, pushing me towards the Homestead, "Get in there, I'll see you later."
I smiled, nodded, "Okay."
Builders had boarded up the gaping holes left by the Griever's who'd carried off Gally and Adam. The finished work looked a bit… sloppy to be honest, like a bunch of drunks had boarded it up. But it would hold… or, I thought it would.
Alby was insisting on a plan of rotating where they slept each night.
Somehow, I ended up with completely different people than I'd slept with two nights before. Silence settled over the room quickly, though I wasn't sure if it was because people were actually asleep or because they were just scared. However unlike two nights before, Teresa joined our little group, and had followed Thomas to wherever he was. Newt was probably with him.
I had passed out asleep next to Minho and hour so before the mechanical sounds of the Griever broadcasted its appearance and Minho shook me awake. Everyone crowded together against the furthest wall from windows, trying to keep quiet. The tension rose steadily. The Gladers were quiet, and not a soul moved, their eyes glued to the window in anxious anticipation.
The distant sound of metal scraping against wood echoed through the house. More noises joined in a few seconds later, coming from all directions, the closest being right outside our own window. There was thick, frozen with fear and anticipation. I glanced up at Minho anxiously, his hand was on my shoulder, as if holding me back. His jaw was clenched and his eyes stuck to the window, his eyebrows furrowed.
A booming explosion of ripping wood and broken glass thundered as a Griever broke through the window, shaking the whole house. Several screams erupted, mine included. I stumbled backwards as its metal arm extended forwards. I backed into Minho and looked up at him. He was looking towards the door, boys were practically trampling each other in an effort to get to the hall. We were pressed against the wall, as far away from the Griever as space allowed. It wormed its way in a few more feet, the wood creaking under its weight. In the chaos the boys had gotten closer, it was too late to warn them however as it had already reached out. And it grabbed one, its pincers snapping around his waist. I flinched as his spine cracked. He screamed.
"Dave!" Someone screamed as the Griever pushed through the wall.
"It's got Dave!" yelled another.
"Get back!" I screamed, frantically, "Get Back, you idiots, get back!" The monstrous creature barreled through the wall. It wasn't going back out the same way it came it.
"Get away from the door!" Minho yelled with me, the Gladers backing away from the door as the Griever neared.
They screamed, running to the corners of the room as the Griever busted through the door and into the hall. I ran after it, Minho at my side. "Its head downstairs," I said, he nodded.
The Griever desecrated the steps as it descended. Screams and gasps echoed around the rooms as it moved out throughout the house.
"Tommy!" Newt yelled from somewhere, his voice booming, bouncing off the wall.
I looked at Minho. He was looking at me.
But we couldn't do anything, we didn't know where anyone was, and boys were in the way standing about in guilty relief because it wasn't them. To be honest I couldn't blame them. I felt the same way. But something was happening. Tommy was doing something, and I couldn't tell what! And Newt was down there!
Minho and I ran to the gaping hole in the side of the room, looking down just in time to see a figure running, running towards the Griever. The figure didn't even hesitate, he sprinted, running into the middle of a pack, Grievers on all sides. I gasped, as the figure tried to jerk Dave free. Three descended on him at once, long pincers and claspers and needles all headed for him. He flailed about, knocking the metallic arms away as he kicked at their blubber coated bodies. He screamed, kicking and pushing and thrashing, throwing his body into a roll in an attempt to get away.
And then he was running, escaping their immediate grasp… and they retreated. And he collapsed. People were on him in a second, one I suspected to be Newt and the other may have been Chuck, but I wasn't sure.
Wait… Thomas. Creators, Thomas! "Minho…. That's Tommy."
"I know," he said quietly.
Newt was grabbing him by the shoulders, lifting him and Chuck was grabbing his legs and they were carrying him across the courtyard towards the Homestead. "C'mon," I said, grabbing Minho's hand as I raced down the stairs.
They were placing him on a couch when I got there.
"What were you doing!" Newt yelled, "How could you be so bloody stupid!"
"No…" the delirious boy muttered, "Newt… you don't understand…"
"Shut up!" Newt shouted, "Don't waste your energy." I laid a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down as Clint arrived, checking his arms and his legs, ripping open his shirt and checking for damage.
"I'll go get the Serum," I mumbled as Chuck began talking.
"He- he's gonna be okay, right?"
"He got stung dozens of times," Clint assessed, sounding a bit worried.
Newt yelled for the Serum. "I got it, I got it," I said, handing it over to Clint who injected it into his arm.
"Don't worry," Tommy managed, his words slurred, "I did it on purpose…"
Three nights passed before Tommy woke up. I assisted with his changing, but when I wasn't doing that, I was placed on what was now referred to as 'Teresa duty'. She followed me about, asked me annoying questions, bothered me about Newt and constantly bothered me about Tommy… that was when she wasn't completely silent.
Like now, "Hey? Teresa? Girlie? You okay?"
She shook her head, "Oh, uh yeah, I'm fine."
I nodded, however unconvinced. "If you say so, thinks it's time we went and checked on your boyfriend, might be up soon." I told her.
She smiled strangely, like she knew something I didn't. Shaking it off, I walked towards the Homestead, Chuckie almost running me down in the process. "Woah, slow down there."
"Thomas is up, says you need to have a Gathering as soon as possible." He burst out.
"Go find Newt then," I told him, "He'll need to be notified. Teresa," I said turning to address her, "Stick with Chuckie for bit, I need to talk to Tommy, when we're done with him he's all yours."
She scoffed, but did as I asked.