Tasha had considered throwing her burning spear at Gally several times over the past five minutes, waiting with it in hand for the rest of the Gladers to gather their own spears, however she ultimately decided against it. She'd done it before, just missing him and singeing off enough of his hair for him to smell the burning, and a week in the slammer was not worth it especially if her intention was to miss. As it was, she stood beside Alby, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, waiting for the signal for everyone to throw their flaming spears at the pyre to start the bonfire. Minho stood on her other side, expression hard, clutching his own torch in his right hand, holding it aloft, careful not to put the flame too close to his face.
"Light 'em up!" Tash could see the Greenie flinch as Alby shouted across the gathering of people, flames lighting up the night sky, the bonfire crackling to life before them, bathing the Gladers in a warm glow. Tasha shied away from the fire, having almost fallen into it while intoxicated by Gally's brew a few too many times, even falling close enough to burn her hands, the scarring plainly visible against her palms. She watched from her position on the edge of the crowd, beside Minho, as one of the newer boys tried a few flips that he had been practicing, and almost pulled it off, if not for landing on his knees. Tasha took a swig of her drink, the horrendous taste burning her throat and searing through her veins, readying herself with a few quick stretches, before performing a roundoff back handspring across the cleared area to the hollers of the surrounding boys. Tasha prided herself on her trademark flip, she had learned it off of a Runner who died within the maze, and she showed it every bonfire in honour of his memory. Newt grinned from where he and the Greenie stood beside her once she had landed, his own thoughts flashing to the flipping Runner and how devastated the Glade has been to lose him. She grinned back, taking his cup from his hands and finishing the last sip as he feigned mock indignation.
"That was my bloody drink, shank." He scoffed as she lowered the now empty cup. Tasha raised a single, amused eyebrow at him, cup still clutched to her chest. The rest of the group had split up by now, some were dancing in the light of the bonfire, some were eating the food that had been brought up in Thomas' box, some, mostly Runners, were brooding by the fire. Only the Greenie was left to witness their interaction.
"Willing to run for it?" She asked, her voice low and playful, as it only was when she was intoxicated, tapping him on the nose with the cup. A responding smirk came over Newt's face, it looked as if he was about to agree, eyes flicking to the cup, but reached out and snatched the it from her hands.
"Not even a little bit." He told her, as he took it, Tasha realising what had happened a few moments later. By then, there was silence and Newt's expression dropped, as if he was contemplating something far more serious. "Where's Ben?" Tasha hesitated, her own face dropping as she thought; she hadn't seen him since he'd gone to the Med-Jacks, she knew something was wrong, but she didn't want to panic. She glanced over to where Minho was sitting by the fire, surrounded by the other Runners. Sensing her gaze, he glanced up at her, and tipped his head to the side, dark eyes asking silent questions, as they always did.
"Ben?" She mouthed, it took a moment with Minho frowning, before he pointed in the direction of the homestead. Tasha drew in a deep breath, looking over at the run-down, half-assed excuse for a home, before she nodded in understanding and turned back to Newt. "Sleeping." She told him, to which Newt nodded, solemnly. Looking at her hands, suddenly feeling smothered in the group atmosphere, she coughed awkwardly, "I'm… going to run." She mumbled, avoiding Newt's gaze and took off before he could talk her out of it.
"Shouldn't someone go after her?" The Greenie's voice was loud enough that Tasha could hear it a few metres away, his eyes on her retreating back. She wasn't sure what Newt was going, whether he was avoiding looking at her, or was watching her leave like he always did, but she heard his answer.
"You can run after her if you want, you won't bloody-well catch her." There was a laugh in his voice, but also something defeated, as if he had seen her run off a million times, and not been able to catch up with her. He used to be able to catch her, run after her and keep her grounded, but that was lost to the bitter despair of the maze, the bitter despair of inevitability that they were all inflicted with eventually. Some just managed to outlive it.
The woods was quiet this time of night, they usually were whenever there was a bonfire (unless two of the other Gladers wanted some time alone and she just outright avoided them when they did - for all their lack of talking, they certainly were very loud). She weaved through the underbrush, vines curling around her ankles, pulling her back as she moved forward and through to the deadheads. She took up her usual seat across from the skeletons of the Gladers who gave up, voice dead in her throat as she looked at them, fingers lightly scraping over words on the side of her seat. Tasha remembered being so close to joining them, mere days after being trapped in the maze, the crushing sense of isolation and eventual destruction that they were plagued with.
There's no way out.
She spent hours, sitting just like she was now, carving those words into the trunk she sat on, hands trembling as she held her knife, tears in her eyes that she refused to wipe away. She planned her routes to Alby's hut, knew when he was in there, when it was safe to go in and retrieve the gun… Safe… She knew it was a big decision for herself, to just end everything - one less person to worry about, she tried to justify, but then Newt was by her side, lifting the knife from her fingers, holding her close as she sobbed, pulling her through the darkness, as she had done for him. She owed him her life.
It took her a moment to pull herself from her memories, landing jarringly in the present and to stand when her legs weren't shaking. She ran back to the bonfire as fast as her legs would carry her, to get herself another two cups of drink to calm her nerves, to drink her way out of her memories (not that it ever worked). Gally snorted and called her an impolite term as she poured her third and she flipped him off for it, but headed over to the rest of the Runners.
"Minho." It wasn't a question as she looked down at the Keeper of the Runners. He dipped his head towards her in greeting and looked around. Tasha liked that about Minho, he, like her, didn't waste words. He nodded towards the barrel where Gally kept his drink on tap, Tasha pressed her own cup into Minho's hands, allowing him to take a tentative sip as she poured herself another cup, not thinking about how much she was drinking lest she stop and be consumed by another wave of self loathing, and went to settle on the pile of wood beside Minho. He moved over and they sat, legs pressed together, staring moodily into their respective drinks, not talking.
"Can you stay here tomorrow, incase Ben's not OK?" He asked, breaking the silence. There was a pause and Tasha nodded once. "Thanks." Minho told her, and Tasha shot him a brief smile. They sat in their companionable silence after that, eyes lifting from their amber liquor, watching the builders, who had begun to play their 'push-me-out-of-the-ring' game, with Gally in the ring. As usual, Tasha thought, bitterly. She began to sense a gaze upon her, and she pulled her own away, seeing Newt and the Greenbean staring over at her and Minho. She nudged Minho's leg and nodded towards them, neither of them were focused on Tasha, but rather on Minho, and he looked up, catching the Greenie's eye before looking away.
Tash stood without a word, leaving Minho to his thoughts, heading over to the barrel once more, grabbing a cup for the Greenie, as he was using Newt's cup, and filled it up. It was less than halfway full when she heard an out-of-breath mocking voice from behind her.
"Watch it, lightweight, aren't you going a bit hard on the stuff?" Gally, panting lightly from his exertions in the ring, rose his horrendous eyebrows at her, smirk on his face as he spoke.
"I can drink you under the table, shuck-face." Tasha snapped, barely looking away from the cup. Gally snorted, but didn't challenge her on it, turning back to face his next opponent. Tasha made her way over to Newt and the Greenie, cups in hand, managing to only spill a little bit down her shirt. "Greenie." She said, her voice clipped with annoyance as she interrupted Newt halfway through his sentence, plopping down on his left and reaching right across him to hand the Greenie his new cup of drink. He wrinkled his nose at it, but took it, Tasha staring at the gates of the Maze before her, taking a long draught of her drink.
"What's wrong Tasha, Gally being a slinthead?" Newt asked, his voice holding nothing but amusement and a little bit of condescension. Tasha pressed her lips together, hardly amused at his tone, more so because it was the truth than anything else, which was was just as much of an answer as any vocalisation would be. The Greenie's eyebrows knitted together, and almost like he could read the kid's mind, Newt turned to the Greenie, "Gally once dropped a beam on her foot and broke it, meaning she couldn't run for a month, so she broke his nose in return. They've been feuding ever since." The Greenie nodded slowly and watched Tasha warily; she took a sip of her own drink, before giving him a small smile. It took the Greenie a moment to stop looking at her as if she was going to launch herself across Newt at him in a murderous rampage, but his gaze slowly slip back to Newt.
"What did you mean, no-one's ever survived a night in the maze?" The Greenie asked, returning to Newt and what must have been their previous conversation before Tasha interrupted. Newt hesitated, feeling Tasha freeze up beside him. Tasha swallowed hard as Newt pondered on how to proceed.
"No-one goes into the maze and comes out alive." Tasha managed, her voice intensely level. Her mind was already heading back to the morning in the Med-Jack hut after she had been stranded in the maze.
Alby called Minho, and the Med-Jacks in to speak with himself and Tasha, who were already within the cramped hut.
"Tasha. Tell us what you know about the maze at night." Alby looked at the runner, who took in a shaky breath, eyes staring intently at her knees. Her hands were trembling as she played with the hem of her shirt, which was hiding her thick bandages keeping her rib in place.
"The maze, it's always changing. I've seen it." There was a frown from Minho and Newt, and she closed her eyes, swallowing. She forcibly stilled her hands, the low groan of the wall's movement reverberating through her skull. "I've seen the stone move, I've seen it change and I've seen the grievers."
"What?" Alby snapped, and Tasha lowered her hand to the bed, fingers grasping at the linen.
"They're fast, almost caught me, but I was faster." It took her a moment, but she felt Newt's fingers interlock with hers and squeeze her hand. "I don't think I could make it again. It was sheer luck that I'm even alive."
"But you made it." It was Minho's voice, quiet and reasoning, and totally at odds with Tasha's reply in the form of a scathing recount.
"I hid for half the night in a crack in the wall, broke my rib and scratched all up my left side." Tasha turned sharply on him, eyes full of blazing anger at his insinuations. "If you go into the maze at night, you are going to die." Her voice lowered to a harsh whisper as she moved from the bed, stalking closer to Minho as he shrivelled down. Her hand, without Newt holding it, holding her, was cold and empty and she moved back to be closer to him. She needed the support.
"You don't have to be a runner anymore." Alby told her, diffusing the tension. Tasha turned, lips pressed together in a harsh line, angular and determined.
"No. I want to be a runner. I need to be a runner. I know what I'm up against." She told him, fingers working to communicate her inarticulable desires. Alby nodded once, managing to translate her hand gestures and words.
"Well, we can't tell the others that she survived a night in the maze, they're going to think its possible." Clint, one of the Med-Jacks spoke up, hands folded over his chest, frown on his face as he reasoned with Alby. Newt stood suddenly and all attention turned to him.
"So we don't bloody tell anyone. No-one has survived a night in the maze. No-one has seen a shucking griever. Agreed?" Newt asked, looking at the surrounding company. Tasha felt herself release the tension she had been holding, like a full body sigh, and nodded, along with the others. "Good, its agreed." There was silence, which was only broken when Minho sent a silent apology to Tasha, who nodded understandably.
"How long until Tasha can run again?" His voice was clear as he turned to the Med-Jacks.
"About a month, maybe less." Jeff said, shrugging. Tasha did and internal fist-pump, grinning, snatching Newt's hand in her own out of relief, and the need to be in contact with him.
"Until then, you'll be working with as a Track-Hoe." Alby told her. Tasha dipped her head in acknowledgement, and rubbed her thumb along the side of Newt's hand.
"What happens to them?" The Greenie pressed, pulling Tasha and Newt back to the present. Tasha took another sip of her drink as Newt cleared his throat.
"We call them Grievers." Newt's eyes were focused on the closed stone doors in front of the trio, occasionally glancing at the Greenie. "Of course, no-one's ever seen one and lived to tell about it… but they're out there." There was silence where the three of them sat, lost in thought, Tasha's mind focusing on slimy skin that hid metal innards and deadly viruses. Newt was the one who surfaced first, having never seen a Griever, stopping his imagination short before it could run too wild. "Well, that's enough questions for one night." He turned to the Greenie, grinning, "you're supposed to be the guest of honour." He clapped the Greenie on the shoulder, smile wide. The Greenie tried to object, weakly, but Newt was already on his feet, holding out a hand for the newbie, his whole aura seeming inviting to the confused Greenbean.
"Come on, we'll show you around. Ain't that right, Tash?" His eyes snapped to Tasha, who was contemplating getting up. At the mention of her name, her head snapped up. The Greenie watched as she processed the suggestion and jumped to her feet.
"Of course, I'll get more drinks." Tasha grinned agreeably, reaching out for Newt's cup and the Greenie's cu once she stopped swaying as she stood. Newt's brow furrowed and he held his own out of her reach, hand on her shoulder, steadying her.
"I think you've had enough, love, just come for a walk." He told her. The Greenie would have sworn that Tasha would have objected, but she took a deep breath and nodded, following after the two of them. The Greenie frowned, watching how Tasha quietly obeyed Newt's orders and followed after the other Glader, mood flipping from giddy to restrained. The Greenie walked quickly to catch up with them.
"Now, over here, we have the builders." Newt spread his hands out wide, gesturing to Gally and his group of boys, turning to face the Greenie, walking backwards, Tasha now in front of him, making sure he didn't trip. Tasha rolled her eyes as Gally roared, pushing another boy out of the ring with force. "Very good with their hands, not a lot going on upstairs." Newt raised a single eyebrow, tapping his finger to his temple. Tasha snorted with laughter but didn't let it last long. "And we've got Winston, Keeper of the Slicers." A smaller group of boys were gathered around to the left, one telling an animated story to the others, who laughed and jeered with approval, Tasha swallowed hard and tried not to shudder, being thoroughly disgusted by the workings of the Slicers. Two young Gladers breezed past Tash, Newt and the Greenie, who Newt pointed out with a grin. "And two Med-Jacks; Clint, Jeff."
"Hey! What's up, Newt?" One asked, acknowledging the little party, as the other said greeted them in an equal manner. Tasha nodded to them, which they returned in kind, moving on towards the Slicers.
"They spend most of their time bandaging up the Slicers." Newt said, grin on his lips. They came to a halt by the side of the Builders' ring, the Greenie turning on Newt. Tasha stood beside Newt, watching the sky rather than the other Gladers, marvelling at the stars above.
"What if I want to be a Runner?" Asked the Greenie. Tasha's gaze snapped forwards and she clenched her fists, gulping down deep breaths of air, trying not to shout obscenities.
"Have you been listening to a word I've just said?" Asked Newt, almost incredulously, followed almost immediately by Tasha's disapproving and incredibly restrained tone.
"No-one wants to be a Runner." She frowned and the Greenie, and Newt put his hand on her shoulder, calming her down.
"What she means is, you don't get to decide. You have to get chosen." Newt's voice was level, combating Tasha's aggravated tone. Tasha closed her eyes, taking in yet another deep breath, before breathing out slowly and opening her eyes.
"Get chosen, by who?" The Greenie inquired, seemingly ignoring Tasha's outburst. Granted, she wasn't usually this passionate, not by a long shot, but her emotions always came free when she had been drinking. At that exact moment, one of the younger boys was sent hurtling into the Greenie's back by Gally, who was taking in a few gulps of fresh air, light sheen of sweat on his face.
"What do you say, Greenie? Want to see what you're made of?" He was offering the Greenie a challenge and Tasha hoped that the Greenie would take it.
A chant broke out - "Greenie! Greenie! Greenie!" - and though Tasha kept her lips shut, she clapped along with the rest of them when the Greenie begrudgingly accepted, though Newt seemed a little bit hesitant.
"Rules are simple, Greenie. I try and push you out of the circle, you last more than five seconds." Gally said, simply. Tasha clucked her tongue disapprovingly and Gally sent her a withering look in return. The Greenie nodded, trying to adapt his stance to match Gally's, powerful, legs apart, shoulders back. It didn't help. Gally ran at him, arms outstretched, taking the Greenie by surprise and pushing him with half as much force as he could muster, which still sent the kid flying into the crowd. Some of the other gladers who formed the circle pushed the kid back into the ring, only for Gally to have him knocked flat on his face. "Come on Greenie, we're not done yet." He told him, tone mockingly. Tasha felt a surge of anger and wanted the Greenie to just punch Gally in his awful face; she could hear Newt's almost disappointed sigh from where she stood beside him.
"Stop calling me Greenie." The newbie huffed as he brushed himself off, sand floating to the ground.
"Stop calling you that? What do you want to be called?" The two were circling each other now, Gally's words moving from generic banter to outright provoking and Tasha fidgeted with anger. "Shank?" Asked Gally, mockingly. The other boys jeered and echoed him, as Gally smirked, "What do you think, boys, does he look like a 'Shank'?" There was anger in the Greenie's eyes that made him run to Gally, to push against his shoulders and actually maneuver himself and his opponent around the ring for a few moments, however, it seemed as though Gally was only humouring him, as the Greenie ended up on the ground within three seconds. "You know what? I think I've settled on Shank." Gally smirked and Tasha felt her own muscles tense up, ready for a fight, seeing the way the Greenie was being pushed around as if he was nothing.
"This is his fight." Newt mumbled to Tasha, and his words kept her grounded, made her still as she watched the Greenie go in again, this time being pushed across the ring by Gally as the two were locked in a stalemate. But this time, the Greenie tripped Gally up and the Builder ended up splayed on the ground. Tasha couldn't help but cheer with the others at the turn of events. The Greenie looked confused, crouched on the ground, as if he couldn't believe he had won. He stood slowly, as it was almost as if it was in slow motion.
"Not bad for a Greenie." Gally scoffed, swiping the kid's legs from under him, sending him crashing to the ground, head hitting the sand, pain written all over his face. Then it transformed, slowly at first, from pain to realisation, before he muttered to himself.
"Thomas." He kept repeating the name as if it was both familiar and new to him, as if he had spoken it a thousand times but only remembered it now. At the confused looks the crowd was giving him, he let out an incredulous laugh. "I remember my name! It's Thomas!" There's a pause, before Alby grins from the crowd and pointed at him.
"Thomas!" He cried, which was soon joined in by the others, some clapping a bemused Gally on the back, most others going in to hug and congratulate Thomas, the Greenie. Tasha watched, small smile on her face, arms crossed over her chest, relaxed in the suddenly easy, familial atmosphere.
"What do you think of him?" Newt asked, seeing her almost proud smile.
"He's not a shuck-face, I'll give him that." She mused, wondering whether she should go and hug the Greenie. Newt snorted.
"You really are drunk. You know Gally'll give you a slap if you need sobering up." He told her, almost offhandedly. Tasha flinched, but knew he was joking, the delivery was too good. Her tone was exasperated as she replied.
"You cause me pain, Newt." She turned to him, warm, friendly smile on her face. He hardly ever saw this side of her, the side that was proud of the boys, that thought of them as her family, but he liked it. He liked every side of her, the cold, fast side; the warm, familial side; the easy-going, comfortable side; even her bitter, harsh, almost self-loathing side. She turned back, sighing with content. "Now go congratulate Thomas, I know you want to." She nodded over to Thomas, who was bewildered at the attention now being presented to him. Newt smirked, wrapping his arm around Tasha's shoulder and hugging her quickly.
"Have fun, love, don't break any noses." He told her. He went to walk off, but turned back, taking her hands in his. "Find Minho, or Ben, or someone. Just… be with people, OK?" Tasha pressed her lips together, suddenly serious, but nodded. Both of them knew that when she was tipsy and left to her own devices, she became miserable and melancholy.
"Minho's around, I'll find him." She breathed, hugging him back before letting him go to be with Thomas. She didn't find Minho, she chanced a glance at the homestead, but decided to instead, head to the woods once more.