Everyone stood, frozen by the Maze's entrance, fear and anticipation crackling through the air, all conflict from earlier that day forgotten at the loud thump of the Maze doors. Tasha felt the bile rise in the back of her throat and felt as if she might throw up, her stomach churning unpleasantly. All the gathered Gladers visibly recoiled at the sudden noise, clutching at their ears in pain, the noise echoing throughout the Glade, louder than it usually was. Tasha's suspicious were confirmed and her heartbeat accelerated as she turned swiftly, watching the other three doors of the Glade groaned open, one by one, leaving gaping darkness in their wake. Newt grabbed Tasha's hand and pulled her close out of habit, finding comfort in having their arms pressed together, side by side in the blue light of early evening.
"Hey, Chuck." Thomas turned to the youngest of the Gladers once all the doors were open, he was cautious, his expression serious and tense, "I want you to go to the Council hall, start barricading the doors." Thomas told him quietly, watching to make sure Chuck heard his every word. Chuck didn't hesitate in comprehending the request and nodded furiously, running in the direction of the Council Hall.
"Winston," Newt called out, louder than Thomas, but not by a lot, still uncertain of what the open gates would bring, but his gut told him it couldn't be good, "you go with him." He told the Keeper of the Slicers, who followed Chuck immediately.
"Grab the others," Gally's authoritative voice was directed at Frypan and Zart, who snapped to attention. Gally had that commanding air about him and, for once, he was using it for the good of the Glade, "tell them to go to the forest and hide, now!" He demanded. The boys nodded, taking Gally's request seriously.
"Minho, I want you to grab every weapon you can find," Thomas breathed to the Keeper of the Runners, his voice quiet enough for only the closest few to hear, "I'll meet you at the council hall." Minho took off at a run without waiting for Thomas's say so, and Tasha felt herself tense up, ready to spring into action. She kept her eyes fixed on the gates while her insides began to burn, fear scratching at her throat. She knew Newt could feel her trembling but he thankfully didn't comment on it, he simply clutched her hand tighter, despite the sweatiness of her palms. "Hey, Teresa, you and I are going to go get Alby, alright?" Thomas asked the girl, to which she nodded, seriously, about to head off in the direction of the Med-Jack hut when a scream came from across the Glade. All heads whipped almost simultaneously to look at the source of the noise.
"Grievers!" The other Gladers called out, running from the door that they stood by. Tasha felt her blood run cold, her breaths coming in short sharp gasps and she dropped Newt's hand, setting her target destination. If she did let out a whimper at the roaring groan of the Grievers emanating from inside the Maze, no-one commented on it. The other Gladers turned to face the still empty Maze before Thomas began backing away slowly, cautiously, as he waited for the right moment as his voice became a roar that cut through the fear and the tension.
"Alright, everybody hide!" He yelled. Newt trusted Tasha to follow along behind him, not looking to see where she had gotten to, but rather he followed Thomas. He trusted her so he let her slip from his mind as he focused on keeping himself alive. There was a flurry of movement with fear like a thick fog hanging in the Glade, everyone running on adrenaline and sheer terror. Their group headed for the crops, Thomas realising that the forest was too far away for them to get to. Under the cover of corn and darkness, they waited anticipating halting them as they waited to make their next move.
"Alright, stay down!" Zart called out, huddled over in the field close to Newt. They could hear the screams of the other Gladers, see the flickers of what was sure to end up as a raging fire somewhere near the huts, but they hoped it wasn't - for now they didn't care. They were silent and motionless, illuminated by a single flaming torch, a moment of solidarity as they shared a silence laced with tense fear. There was a wail to the right and Newt flinched, hearing what must be one of the others being taken by a Griever, followed by another unearthly groan, much closer this time. Newt couldn't blame Tasha for her panic attack, not that he would ever dream of it, but if this is the fate that those stuck in the Maze were subjected to, well, she had been stronger than he had realised. A mechanical arm snaked up above the corn around them, hanging over their little group, pincer-like fingers clicking ominously before it lashed out, smashing Zart to the ground and pinning him there. It took the Gladers a moment to react, frozen with shock, it happened all at once, they screamed, lunging for him, but he was whipped into the air and out of sight. It didn't take long after that for them to bolt the other way, looking for a clearing in the crops, Zart's cries echoing through their mind.
"Go, get to the village!" Thomas shouted, leading the pack of Gladers through the field. They smashed through the crops and burst out into the clearing, legs pumping and breath coming in short gasps as they made their way over to the Med-Jack hut. Newt favoured his uninjured leg, barely a step behind the rest, his eyes focused on the hut, his stomach churning with unease. The noise had died down for considerably. While Gladers still being snatched left and right, but it seemed that they had mostly gone into hiding and hopefully, they would stay there. Something felt… wrong... felt off. He could barely pay attention to the brief exchange between Thomas and Jeff, discomfort thrumming like an electric current through his body.
Tasha! It clicked suddenly and he felt as if his legs might give out. He had lost her in the flurry of movement earlier. He searched the Med-Jack hut thoroughly, though it wasn't difficult, and began to feel light headed... She wasn't there. She wasn't there and she was having a panic attack last time he was with her.
"Hey!" A voice, out in the open, loud enough to resonate through the entire Glade snapped Newt from his thoughts and froze him in place all at once. "Hey!" The voice was louder, angrier and more defiant if possible, the noises of the other Gladers being taken almost silent. It was just her voice now. "Hey, slintheads, I'm talking to you!" Shuck. Panic held Newt's heart in a tight grip as he scrambled to view the commotion, he rather wished he hadn't however, as he spotted four grievers advancing on Tasha, and she was grinning back, all sharp teeth and the promise of a bigger bite. "What don't you remember me?" She spat, her grin turning into a sneer of contempt, the aura of self confidence marred by the torch's shaking, visibly from even Newt's perspective. She couldn't see him, which she was thankful for, or she may have chickened out right there an then. She couldn't see anything that wasn't those Grievers for that matter, but there were even more now that she had attracted the attention of them. They stalked closer, almost cautious, as if waiting for her to make the first move, metal limbs twitching and snapping in anticipation. Tasha was silent for a moment, smile widening into an almost eerie, forced mask as she pegged the torch at the Grievers and ran the other way, straight into the field of corn, and the Grievers followed as if it were a game. Newt knew what she was doing, of course she would offer herself as the heroic sacrifice, it was so like her, but he couldn't help the scream of anguish that he released. Newt had grown for his sorrows, had others there to support him and help him find his place in the Glade when he thought he had none after his fall... Tasha had barely anyone, never believed that she had been worth saving in the first place; she knew people didn't like her, and believed that if she died saving the Glade, maybe it was worth it. It felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest in that one moment, his only thought being survival, because… because it's what Tasha would have wanted. Newt followed the others, running behind the others, his leg aching as did his heart, but he continued on, even when his body told him he should stop, he kept pace with Thomas and Minho.
Tasha, fuelled by adrenaline and anticipation, did what she did best; ran. There were approximately six Grievers on her tail, their footsteps always thumping just behind her on the compact soil, but she could see her next target up ahead. She was faster than them by a lot more than she had expected, considering she hadn't even expected herself to be, and she shot from the corn fields straight into the now empty Maze. The Grievers followed behind her, however adapting was not in their strong suit, and with the Maze's twisting corners and abrupt stops, she had actually managed to lose them, hiding in a crevice beneath one of the ivy-covered walls. She waited a few minutes before bursting into quiet laughter, grinning wide enough to split her face, the laughter shook her whole body, not that she wasn't trembling before, and she kept laughing even when she was out of breath, even when she knew she was finally feeling the full effects of her panic attack, barely gasping in air between crazed laughter. There seemed to be an unspoken signal as the Grievers never came back looking for her, but she remained for what was closer to an hour than half, her chest tight as she lay there, hyperventilating, choking on air with her heart beating painfully against her ribs. It took her a few tries to awkwardly shimmy from her hiding place, still flooded with adrenaline from her run and her panic attack, too wired to be convinced she was safe. Instead, she simply ran from the Maze on shaking legs… in time to see Thomas loge a Griever's stinger into his stomach. She let out a cry as he hit the ground and she sped up, the panic attack having finally subsided during her last few turns heading back. Minho was attending to Thomas, cursing quietly and aided by the Med-Jacks and Teresa. Newt was waiting anxiously beside them, back facing Tasha, his face wet with silent tears.
"Hey." She mumbled, sidling up beside him, feeling as thought she was about to pass out, but grateful to have him as she knocked his shoulder with hers. Newt jumped at the sudden contact, looking at her as if he was seeing at a ghost. He swallowed hard, relief and joy and desire all flooding through him as he saw her standing there, alive.
"Tash…" He mumbled, knowing that there was nothing else to say before taking her face in his hands and kissing her hard. It was hardly elegant, all passion no finesse, but she kissed back, hot and needy as he wound his arms around her back and pulled her closer, as close as they could get. "I thought you had died." He breathed, before going back and kissing her again as she laced her fingers through his hair. Tasha laughed, it was a wet sound, and she could feel the hot tears beginning to track down her cheeks, the realisation of her actions crashing down around her.
"I'm sorry," She gasped, kissing him again, furiously. She didn't even for a second consider his feelings in her decision to face the Grievers, she knew she recognised the voice that had cried out when she had ran. It had been him. "I'm so sorry." She breathed, and he laughed into the kiss.
"Oh shuck, I love you." He mumbled, so relieved and content in that moment, despite the sore muscles and dirty clothes littered with singe marks. "I love you so bloody much." He murmured between kisses, and they were both smiling now, just happy to have each other. Gally, however, was the second one to notice her arrival, his frown deepening. He stormed up to them, prying them away from one another and keeping a death grip on Tasha's upper arm, her positive mood evaporating. Both made cries of outrage at the sudden seperation, but Gally ignored them.
"What the hell kind of stunt was that?" He shouted, vein pulsing in his temple, eyebrows looking angrier than usual. Tasha would laugh if she wasn't so angry, but then again, it was always a coin flip around Gally.
"The Grievers are gone." She spat, waving her hand at the still wide open Maze doors. Newt glared at Gally, but Minho pulled him aside to tend to Thomas.
"Yeah, but for how long? We're losing people left and right, you can't just go and give up!" Tasha opened her mouth to argue back with him, but Gally gave her a withering glare, "Don't say that's not what you were doing, you got lucky this time. Are you going to be able to outrun them forever?" He sneered, leaning down until his eyes were at her eye level.
"I don't need to outrun them forever," Tasha's smile was cold and cruel, sharp teeth and lifeless eyes, "I just need to outrun you-" She should have seen it coming, with the rage building up in his eyes as he reared back, but she couldn't dodge fast enough. His fist slammed into her cheek and Tasha went crashing into the ground. Everyone's attention suddenly turned to them and Newt let out a cry of shock.
"What the hell, man? You can't just go around punching people!" Frypan's disbelief was heard over Gally shoulder, but he ignored it. Minho was now actively holding Newt back, leaving Teresa and the Med-Jacks as the only ones left tending Thomas.
"I'm sick of your stupid remarks, Tasha." Gally yelled down at her as she coughed roughly, propping herself up onto her elbow, thumb brushing the dirt away from her nose. She winced as it made contact with her cheek. "I'm sick of you thinking that rules don't apply to you. Grow the hell up! You're a part of this community whether you like it or not." He snapped, before turning sharply to the others. "Put him in the pit." He pointed to Thomas, eyes hard and cold.
"What?" Cried Minho, startled into letting Newt go. Newt ran to Tasha, checking her face carefully, wincing at the telltale marks of Gally's fist printed into her cheek. Tasha saw his reaction and smiled weakly at him, kissing his cheek. He gave her an unconvinced smile but helped prop her up further.
"If that guy goes nuts and starts attacking us, I don't want him near people." Gally seethed, towering over Minho who looked unhappy with the decision, but not about to argue. It made sense. "And put her in there too." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder to Tasha, "she needs to be locked up," he paused, sneering at her, "like an animal." Tasha struggled to her feet behind him, leaning heavily on Newt. Newt's expression was sour and he avoided Gally's gaze, but Tasha held it defiantly.
"You're not… Our leader." She spat at Gally, pressing her fingers to her split lip. He turned, nostrils flaring like an angry bull's and Tasha barked out a laugh. Newt was torn between knowing that she had gotten herself into this, that it was just Tasha's nature, and wanting to kick Gally to the ground and make him apologise. His decision was made for him as Tasha, seeing the blood on the end on her fingers as she pulled them away, snarled at Gally, "You're some asshole who gets off on being controlling." It probably wasn't the best thing to say in hindsight, and Newt tried not to shrink away as Gally lunged forward, he was second in command, he couldn't very well be afraid of one of the Keepers. Tasha could see Gally coming back for round two, but couldn't help her bitter laugh and going in for a final jab at Gally's already wounded ego. "Thomas is right-" There was the sound of fist hitting flesh, a loud cry from Newt, as he staggered back in surprise. She didn't manage to finish her sentence.