In which there is a banishing and an idea
Chapter Warnings: Off screen character death and you may find the banishing upsetting. Mentions of some trauma and insomnia in the aftermath.
AN: It actually worked out a little longer than I thought, so hopefully it reads okay and I'll aim to have the next chapter up in a few days. This isn't the most cheerful of chapters - sorry about that, but its a necessity.
Notes at the end
Almost everyone is gathered at the Doors as the sun drops that evening.
It's a sombre affair.
Or maybe macabre is the word I'm looking for.
Some of the boys carry long poles while the Keepers stand to form a walkway, each holding an even longer pole with a bar secured to the end.
The worst part is that it's clear these poles were built for very few purposes, and this is the main one.
As Keeper of the Runners, its Minho's job to walk Justin – his hands carefully bound – through the others to the threshold of the Maze.
Justin never stops his stream of nonsensical mutterings.
My heart tugs for Minho, who must have had to do this for all those who were banished before.
He uses a small knife to cut Justin loose, and there's a wrenching sadness in his upturned eyes as he throws a small survival pack out into the shadows of the stone corridor before us.
The Maze groans, and the Doors begin to grind.
"Posts!" Alby announces.
The boys on either side tighten their grips on the poles, and the Keepers lower their T-bars.
I stumble backwards, my throat closing up.
Justin's face flickers with the boy he once was, and he cries out in desperation, stammering apologies as he's forced into the path of the closing Doors.
Only Minho doesn't act. He stands to the side, hands in tight fists and head lowered.
He is already in mourning.
No one survives a night in the Maze.
I press my hands over my mouth and hot tears spill down my cheeks.
I know the facts.
Justin isn't there anymore; not really. He's dangerous. There's nothing left of him and the madness will only work deeper.
But I've never seen this before, and I wasn't prepared for it to hurt so much.
I didn't even know him before it happened.
And with that, I wonder if it would kill me if I had to force Newt, or Zart or Dan into the Maze. If I had to watch their eyes fill with madness, see flickers of my friends that slowly fade until nothing is left but the aching hole where they used to be.
I force myself to stay.
I try to focus on the name. Justin.
Before I know it, the Doors bang shut and one by one, the boys set the poles against it and walk away.
Minho walks up to me and squeezes my shoulder firmly before heading for the woods. No one follows him.
Alby gives me a solid look as he approaches.
"He belongs to the Maze now," he whispers. "I'm sorry, Eva. If there was anything that could be done…"
I shake my head.
I saw the weight of this outcome in his expression this morning. Alby may be reserved and find it hard to open up at times, but no one can deny that he cares about every single person who arrives in this Glade.
If he could have saved Justin, or Alfred or Stephen – he would have.
Alby walks away, his head hanging.
Dan walks up to me instead.
He looks at me for a moment, then gently puts an arm around my shoulders and hugs me.
My breath catches in surprise.
This is the first time I've been hugged. Perhaps ever. I don't think it's something I usually like, but today it tethers me to the world for a moment.
I hug him back.
It's a little easier to breathe. My chest seems to knit together a fraction.
I pull away and Dan gives me a sad look.
"He's not really there anymore," he says. "He won't suffer long, and he wouldn't remember it anyway."
I nod.
Dan moves away and as he walks off, joining up with Winston and Lee, I spot Newt making his way towards Homestead. His head is down and I can tell from this far away that he's upset.
I hurry after him, catching up and falling into step. Without saying a word, I curl my arm around his middle, just under the leather machete harness and lean into his side.
I don't think I like hugs, but this seems a day for oddities, and if it made me feel a little better, maybe it will work the same for him.
I feel him look down at me, so I look up. I'm not able to smile but something stronger passes between us.
Newt's arm settles over my shoulders and we continue to Homestead.
…
The memory of the Banishing haunts me for three straight days.
The first night I wake up soaked in sweat with a silent scream.
The blankets are twisted around me and the oversized t-shirt I wear to sleep in sticks to my stomach and back uncomfortably.
Justin's terrified, deranged eyes float at the back of my mind, and the echoes of his shouts ring through my ears, even in the silence of the hut. I don't know how to shift this memory. A part of me feels like if I do, it will cast aside who he was. If we don't remember him; who will?
I tear myself free of the blankets and swing myself to the ground.
The earth is cool against my bare feet. I rake my hands through my tangled hair and lift it of the back of my neck as my heart settles.
Sleeping is not an option any more.
I blindly reach for a set of clothes beneath the hammock and tiptoe in the dark to the edge of the wooden partition. I'm going to shower away the sweat and as much of the memory as I can.
I hesitate as I pass Newt's section of the hut.
His room is just as shadowed as mine, but I'm awake enough now that I can make out the shapes of it – ones I didn't really take note of when I dropped off his blanket the time I was sick.
His hammock hangs at an angle, swaying very slightly. There's a woven reed mat on the ground, a small wooden stool and a long, low crate up against the partition that breaks this section from Alby's. Just two things sit on the crate; a smooth stone, which I know he uses to sharpen his machete, and what looks like a worn old book. The cover is bound closed with a length of leather, wound around it half a dozen times.
I can hear the very faintest of mutterings from Newt's hammock, and I realise this is what made me stop.
But as I stand there, silent outside the doorway, the hammock sways, Newt twists, and then the world falls quiet again.
I knew he looked upset earlier, but it seems everyone just somehow learns to cope with what has to be done.
I guess I have to find a way, too.
I head on past the doorway and out of the hut, jogging through Homestead to the shower block.
I shower in the middle of the night, dress in fresh clothes and spend the hours until dawn sitting in the field, watching the closed Doors like they have answers.
I can hear the Maze moving, and the clicking, hissing sounds of the Grievers.
They've already killed Justin.
…
I'm tired the next day, but I get through it with a bit of yawning. I have no appetite and can't force myself to eat more than a fraction of my meals.
The Runners leave in a group of three. I'm not even asked to join them. I'm grateful for that.
When they come back at noon, all they bring is a torn up boot and a shredded green shirt.
It's all that was left.
That night I twist in my hammock, woken with a feeling of claustrophobia I can't outrun when the sky is still dark and the moon high.
This time there are no subdued mutters from Newt's section. I don't even feel that restless need to get up and walk out to the Doors, despite the claustrophobia lingering on the edge of my consciousness.
I lay awake until morning.
I'm tired, but unable to find sleep.
My mind races through fragments that I can't put together. Adam and Eve, an echo of drowning, a torn green shirt on an elastic clothing line, a set of stone doors, permanently shut and knotted into creepers.
…
The lack of sleep starts to catch up with me and by the afternoon I can't focus on anything. My vision swims when I look at something too long, and I stumble on flat ground.
Jeff makes me sit down and rest.
I manage to sleep for a few solid hours and when I wake up, Minho is sitting in the Medi Tent nearby.
"You're not sleeping," he says, when he notices I'm up. In any other circumstance, it might be funny, given I've just been asleep.
This isn't funny.
I shake my head.
"It's not exactly a choice," I say. "I just…can't. I keep seeing bits of it."
"And your mind thinks up the worst scenario," Minho puts in. "I know. I've been there."
"How do you handle it?" I ask.
Minho is saddened by it, but he's dealt a lot better. In fact, most of the sadness is in his eyes – he's sleeping, eating and functioning just fine.
Minho looks at me seriously. "I know what we did was for the best. I know it's what Justin himself would have wanted if he was thinking straight. He liked you, you know – thought you had what it took. He never would have hurt you if he hadn't been stung."
"There was a moment," I whisper. "As we were pushing him out, when he just looked like a kid."
And I realise when I say it, that it's this that has been bothering me so much.
It's this moment that caused the insomnia; the moment when he just looked like a desperate boy.
"I know it seems that way," Minho says. "But even if the nonsense stops, it's still the madness talking. I knew Justin. He was my friend. If it was really him in there, he'd still have been scared, but he'd have walked into the Maze to keep everyone safe."
Minho stands up. "Frypan said you haven't eaten properly in days. Come on, and then try to get a full night's sleep."
I accept his hand up.
I sleep through the night, finally and when I wake with the sun the next morning, I curl in the hammock on my side. I can't quite be as certain as Minho, but his words helped. Something has eased overnight and I'm able to find some measure of peace with Justin's absence.
…
Hours later, one of the Bricknicks trips over a stack of building spikes. When one of his friends laughs at him, he picks up a spike and throws it.
They're standing in front of Homestead.
I stop on the spot. Something in my mind clicks into place.
I can see the laundry lines. I remember the spring-like tension in them as clothes are pegged out. With the flying spike sailing harmlessly towards the ground, a word forms behind my eyes.
Bow.
…
I'm able to talk to Eric, who looks like he welcomes the challenge when I ask for a long, straight piece of strong, flexible wood.
He brings it into the Medi Tent the next day, smiling as he holds it out.
It's a long, tapering branch from a silver birch.
I thank him and hide it away beneath my hammock. I resolve to work on whittling it into something useful when I have the time.
…
Four days later, the Box comes up.
There's a whole crate of fresh clothes among the supplies. The Bloodhouse is gifted a new goat – this one bright white with copper-chestnut patches on its head.
The boy who comes up looks about my age.
Gally hauls him up and onto the ground like usual.
"Day one, Greenie."
I can't help a smile.
His hair is auburn red and looks like it's been styled with a pair of shears. He asks all the same questions – where am I, who am I, who are you, why am I here…
We don't have all the answers.
We never do.
Alby shows him around when he's had a chance to cool off in the Pit.
Henry, our last Greenie, gives him the rundown at the Box Feast later that night.
We're recovering from Justin's tragedy, and a new arrival is what the group needs to look forward again. It's not the most energetic night, but the laughs and games return.
I take off my last bandage and see the barely there marks on my wrist that are all that's left of Justin.
I throw the bandage into the fire and it feels like letting go.
…
This one is called Rob.
He almost sets the Kitchen on fire on his first full day as a Glader.
There's some debate over whether he remembered his name, and the shock caused him to accidentally start the fire, or whether running away from it with his hair moving faster than he was is what triggered the memory.
Naturally, the Gladers like the second version of events better.
He doesn't stay with the Cooks.
Four days later and he joins the Track-Hoes.
On the same day, a boy from the Bricknicks, Dimitri, becomes a Runner.
INFO
1. Most of this is based in what we see and know of the ritual from the movie, so it will resemble that one. And in regards to Eva's reaction, I'd always planned for it to be like this. Living in the Glade hardens you, but its a process, not an overnight change. Being confronted with the reality of their situation - deaths, banishings and more - is different to being told the stories, and I felt that it would hit her hard at first, and it would be something she took time to deal with.
Sorry - no teaser this time. I couldn't find a good bit again...
-Chapter 10 to be posted (hopefully) on Friday-