In which there are choices to make
Chapter Warnings: fallout from the night before. No on screen deaths, but more names added to the body count.
AN: So, in order to keep things flowing as nicely as I can for the storytelling aspect, you get a nice long chapter. And as a bonus there's some nice Newt and Eva moments. I do also explain a bit more about the deaths at the bottom, for those of you interested in that and/or upset about it in the last chapter.
Notes and guest reviews at the bottom. Try to enjoy :)
Picks up almost immediately following the last chapter. Very little time delay.
Homestead is nothing but smoke, splinters and scattered memories.
The fires are still going, but they look like they're dying out on their own. The back of the Kitchen is a blackened stain, the ground scorched and still littered with shards of glass. The Hammock hut has a splintered section of wall, and three hammocks have been pulled down; the bedding spread across the grass. More than two of the storage huts have been obliterated and the remnants have fed the fires. Smoke clouds the air, thick and carrying off across the field.
It looks like someone dropped a bomb on our home.
But it's not home. Not really.
Nothing's moving.
"Some of the others made it…right?" Scott asks. The words rasp in his throat.
"They must have," Stan says, sounding a little better. "A bunch of the best fighters were all together."
"In the Council Hall," Dan says. His voice is hollow. "They were in it when it collapsed."
I swallow back tears, my throat feeling tight.
I'm struck with the thought that this is how Newt must have felt the night the Maze shut on Minho, Alby and Thomas. This feeling that the people who mean the most to you have their fate sealed, and all you can do is wait to find the bodies.
"I'm going to try the Infirmary," Jack says.
Not having a better plan, we all start walking behind him. Stan puts himself at my side.
"Hey," he says, and his voice is very quiet. "Newt asked about you."
I shoot him a glance, but I quickly realise that looking at his grief-stricken face is just too hard. I focus ahead on Scott's back instead.
I don't need to prompt him to continue.
"When I crossed paths with him, Fry and Minho earlier, picking up weapons; Newt asked if I'd seen you. I…I had to tell him that you'd disappeared somewhere – said you had to get something. I don't think I've ever seen that look on his face before."
Stan stops, and I'm kind of glad. I don't want him to describe the expression.
I haven't seen Newt since he was up by the Doors before dark truly fell. The fear that I might not ever again has taken root in my chest and it's hard to breathe around. Of course I would miss so many of them; Fry, Zart, Winston…but Newt's is the one absence that I think could cripple me. And I didn't realise until now, as I'm faced with the possibility of it.
"Over there!" Dan calls out from in front of us.
Stan looks up.
It looks like…
"Fry!"
Scott and Stan both yell. Relief hits me like being punched in the chest. Dan picks up the pace and we all end up jogging wearily but gratefully across the open grass to Frypan.
He's coated in a thin layer of dust, and scratched, but he looks fine otherwise.
"Stan! Scott!" Frypan claps the both of them on the shoulder in welcome as soon as they're in reach. He's clearly happy to see they made it.
We gather around them and Frypan looks past his team members.
"Damn, its good to see you guys!" and then he catches sight of me. "Eva?"
"Thanks for sounding so surprised," I say dryly, wearily.
I'm not even sure it's the moment for humour, but it comes out anyway.
Frypan shakes his head. "No," he says. "Not that. Newt's looking for you."
My heart stutters. My chest hurts.
"He's okay?"
Frypan pulls an odd face, "He will be."
"You were all in the cave in," Rob says. "Did everyone get out?"
And Fry's expression falls. "No…we lost a few. Alex is gone. So's Doug. And…Alby."
I feel the group deflate as one.
"Alby?" Scott asks, voice hanging by a thread.
"A Griever got hold of Chuck," Frypan says. He's clearly had a chance to handle this; his voice is stronger. "Tried to sting him when it couldn't pull him away from us. Alby lost it – he did some serious damage to the tail until it let go of Chuck…then it came back for him.
"And that was it." Frypan sighs. "As soon as it wrenched Alby away, Thomas shot out after him, but everything was quiet. They all just left."
"So where is everyone?" Dan asks.
"I was waiting here – figured I'd be seen easily if anyone's coming out of hiding. Winston went to do a search with Lee. Newt's looking for Eva. Thomas…he's in the Pit."
"What?" Jack says hollowly, finally speaking up.
Frypan looks aggravated. "Yeah. Gally punched him. Said he caused everything to go wrong. Thomas stung himself with the injection from the Griever. Teresa sent Jeff to get the other cure and Gally had the both of them chucked in the Slammer. It's not looking good right now. I mean, they'll live, but I've never seen Gally like this before."
I'm not sure how I feel about the fact that the sting is apparently a mechanical part, rather than organic, so I cast that aside.
"Where is Gally?" Frankie asks.
Frypan waves a hand across the field.
At the base of the Lookout Tree, I can just see a small gathering of boys.
"Rallying his troops," Fry says, and his tone is distasteful.
Dan frowns. I see him lean in and he starts up a hushed conversation with Frypan, but I completely zone out the second I see a familiar figure round the blackened shape of the Kitchen.
My heart twists so violently that I skip a breath.
Newt's still limping, but it's no worse than before. He looks exhausted, but there's something anxious in the way he's moving, and I recognise it because I've felt that way since leaving the woods.
I don't say anything to the others, and none of them call out for me as I take off at a dead sprint in his direction.
He looks up, and even with the distance across the field, I can see the way his shoulders relax in relief as he starts towards me.
I'd planned on hugging him.
But I collide with him halfway, and his body absorbs the impact by curving around mine. His arms band tight around my waist; the warmest thing I've felt all night, despite the explosion we started and all the fires. Mine curl around his shoulders, fisting the material of his shirt in my shaking hands.
And then his mouth is on mine and we're kissing and I can't tell who moved first.
Not that it really matters.
He's warm, and he still tastes like honey and wood smoke. There's a mix of something frantic and settled in the way his lips move against mine; a knot simultaneously tightens and loosens in the base of my spine. Relief and belonging flood through me, blazing hot. I feel one of his arms loosen, move, and his fingers curl against my neck, twisting strands of my hair between them.
I've been feeling a little light headed all night, what with the panic, so I don't realise immediately when I've used up all my oxygen. When I do pull back, drawing in a breath feels strange and jarring.
It's been weeks – nearly two – since I last kissed him, and that suddenly seems like a long time.
Newt's forehead presses against mine. I can see – feel – the rise and fall of his chest as he pulls in breaths of his own.
"I'm sorry," is the first thing I can think to say.
He lifts his head, expression faltering, and he frowns.
"About Alby," I clarify.
I think I see relief rush through his eyes, which seems odd to me, but I shouldn't exactly be judging. I did just kiss him after witnessing more than a couple of horrible deaths.
He hugs me close again, and I press my head into his shoulder. I don't know if that's him shaking, or if it's me.
"It'll be okay," he says quietly.
And though there's a touch of pain in his voice, something tells me he means it. He's not okay right now; how could he be? But as Frypan said – he will be in time. I'm momentarily surprised – I expected Alby's loss to hit him much harder.
Then I half smile into his shirt.
He's always been stronger than he looks, and I shouldn't have forgotten that.
I've only been here five months, and I've seen a couple of banishings, but Newt's been here from the start, and he's seen worse. I guess that makes it easier to brace yourself for it. Maybe some of the fear I saw in him that night outside the Maze wasn't just the loss of his friends, but the knowledge he would have to lead alone.
But there's a kind of energy in him – something like hope or a new focus – that I haven't really seen before. I wonder if that has something to do with how together he is.
"I'm glad you're okay," I murmur against him. It feels like an admission of something I haven't really thought about.
He squeezes me tighter for just a heartbeat in response.
"Are you alright?" he asks. It's at this point we disentangle and I lean into his side as naturally as always as we head back for the group. Newt taps the end of the bow, jutting out over my shoulder. There's a question there, but my brain can't fathom what it is right now.
"…Yeah…I think so," I say slowly. And I do mean it; I'm not hurt, I'm alive, and he's okay, which helps. But…there's still death behind my eyes when they close.
Newt nods slightly, and I think he gets it.
…
We walk back silently; not needing words. We reach the group gathered around Frypan out in the open darkness of the field.
None of them even look the least bit surprised as we approach, despite having witnessed my unplanned collision with Newt by what's left of the Mess hall. It should probably bother me more than it does. They all just give us small smiles, like they knew about it before we did.
They probably did.
Newt claps Dan on the shoulder when we get close enough, and Dan gives him a solid nod. His gaze slides across to me and he spares a fond smile before he's all business again.
"I need to find Winston," he says. "And Lee and the others."
"They both got out of the Council Hall okay," Newt tells him. "They headed up for the Bloodhouse to see if anyone was around. They're sending them towards Homestead."
"I'll follow that way," Dan says.
"I'm coming," Frankie adds.
The two of them share nods and pats on the back with the others before they jog away, across the dark field.
"What about Clint and Jeff?" Rob asks.
I'm reminded that there was blood on his sleeve.
"Both fine when Thomas stung himself," Frypan reports. "Jeff went to get the cure; Clint went with him when Gally had him carted off to the Slammer."
I feel Newt's fingers press into my side, but he doesn't say a word, and his face gives nothing away.
He doesn't approve; I can feel that anyway.
That's almost all the names off the top of my head – good or bad.
"What about Zart?" I ask.
Frypan shakes his head. "Haven't seen him since we split at the Doors; haven't seen half the Track-Hoes, though."
I pray that he's hiding in the corn field or the Butchery, which is the closest hut to the Gardens…but I won't feel settled until I've seen him myself.
"Do what you can to put out the fires," Newt says to the group. Frypan, Rob, Scott, Stan and Jack all nod. "Winston's directing people towards Homestead. Minho and Chuck went with Thomas and Teresa. We'll head for the other end and send over anyone we find. And if you see Billy-"
My fingers clench reflexively at the name, remembering his pale, terrified face as he was carried away, and its Newt's turn to look down at me.
It takes me a second to realise I'm still gripping the back of his shirt, so I force myself to let go. I move out from under his arm, too, wringing out my hands.
"Not Billy," I say, feeling slightly ill again. "He's…"
But I can't finish. I rake my hands through my hair in agitation. It spills back across my shoulders.
"He was with us most of the night," Rob says. "We caught up to him right after Eva rescued us in the woods. We were just on our way back to Homestead ages later and he…"
"One got him," Stan finishes. "From right behind us. Never even heard it. He was still alive when it…took him."
Newt's jaw clenches for a second, before he has to swallow back the pain of another name to cross off the wall.
"Eva rescued you?" he asks instead.
A ripple goes through the group, in gratefulness at the change of subject.
"Yeah," Scott takes it up, glancing over at me. "We'd been running from one of them way back by the wall but we couldn't lose it. It cornered us and Dan was going to draw its attention so we could bail. But we couldn't just leave him.
"We had no idea, though. It tossed Dan aside, didn't take any notice of me, and then turned on Frankie. It had him cornered when this arrow comes whizzing out of the dark and sticks in its head.
"Didn't kill it – just made it angry, really, but it distracted it enough for Frankie to move. And she comes running out of the woods with this…this bow…and I swear Dan looks at her like she's some kind of guardian angel before he picks up his brains and hits the thing."
I think I might be blushing.
Not much these boys say any more embarrasses me, but Scott telling this story makes me sound far cooler than it felt at the time.
"He's embellishing," I say. "We have to move."
Newt, now with a softer expression; like the story actually mattered to him, nods. "Okay, so if you see Jackson, or anyone else willing, see if they can start up a patrol."
"On it," Frypan promises.
Newt reaches out for my hand and gently pulls.
"Come on."
I smile back at the others as best I can, and quickly suggest that Rob gets his arm looked at before I willingly follow Newt away.
…
"What's going on with Gally?" I ask, the minute we're out of earshot and the others are getting to work. "Fry said he put Thomas in the Pit? And Thomas stung himself?"
Newt nods. He looks grim.
"I think he's staging a coup," he says. "He may be a bit hot headed and difficult, but there's plenty of Gladers who see things the same way and who'll follow him because he's so sure about what he's doing."
I bite my lip, worry fizzling in my chest, because this is a real possibility.
Thomas' arrival started the fault lines that would eventually cause a split in the Glade, and this attack seems to have jarred them enough that the earth's now cracked wide.
Gally wants Thomas gone. He's in the Pit, and that's not a long stay type place. Anyone who takes Thomas' side will quickly be seen as a threat to the Glade's future, too. It's easy to predict how fear will manifest in a personality like Gally's.
I decide to handle that a bit later.
"What's with Thomas stinging himself?" I ask instead. "Fry said something about an injection?"
"The bloody sting's manufactured," Newt confirms. "Part of the mechanics."
Which means someone invented the poison and purposefully armed the Grievers with it.
Thanks.
"When Alby woke up from the cure…he'd remembered things," Newt continues. "I don't think it was everything, but it was a whole lot more than what you get with the sting on its own. And it took away the madness. We kind of figured the cure somehow lowers the block on our memories as it works."
"What did he remember?" I ask, half afraid of the answer.
Newt sighs. Reaching the corner of the Glade, we start to double back, this time trekking through the trees and keeping an eye out for anyone who might have managed to hide. Our fingers are still laced together, and now I can't find the motivation to change or question it.
"He remembered Thomas," Newt says. "It didn't make a whole lot of sense. Thomas was a favourite – he somehow knew the creators, I guess. Alby couldn't work out why they would have put him here, so I don't think he was meant to be a Glader.
"And after Gally punched him and blamed him for everything going wrong…Thomas decided being stung and cured was worth it to get his memories back."
"Do you think it is?"
Somehow I can see that same hopeful energy buzzing just under Newt's skin as we walk.
He looks over at me and stops. I pause and turn to face him. The woods are silent.
"I think that whatever he remembers can help us get out of here. And if there's ever a time we need to do that, its now. I don't know what Gally has planned, but things aren't going to go on like normal tomorrow.
"I'd rather risk a chance on a way out than keep waiting in here. It's just…"
Newt's expression falters with something scared, and I suddenly realise I know what he can't say.
He wants to leave. It's all he's ever wanted. And I know that the energy in him comes from somehow believing he's really going to get out. Finally.
But a part of him doesn't want to leave without me.
I'm not going to make him choose.
"Hey, count me in for the field trip," I say.
I'm pretty much just done with this place now. And with all four sets of doors standing open into the night, it's never felt less safe.
The look of relief on Newt's face is worth that decision a hundred times over.
…
We only find a few more boys in the woods.
Finally, we're approaching the wrecked silhouette of Homestead again ourselves.
Gally's group have disappeared from the base of the Lookout Tree.
"If Gally's preparing tonight, we need to get ready, too," Newt says, as though he's read my mind. "As soon as Thomas wakes up, things are going to start happening fast."
"You should talk to the Keepers," I mutter, to avoid being heard as we move past Gladers who are putting out the last of the fires. "Winston would listen at least. Fry would back you up in an instant. Zart-"
My words catch.
We still haven't found him.
I bite back the urge to cry. I'm fed up of teetering on this ledge of grief and despair.
"If they'll listen or side with Thomas, maybe their teams will." I say instead.
"That's what I was thinking," Newt murmurs.
Frypan and Stan both drop into the Kitchen ahead of us.
"Perfect," I say. I jerk my head towards them, gently pulling my hand from his. "Go ahead."
I've not even taken two steps away when Newt wheels on me, brow furrowed.
"Whoa, where are you going?"
I bite my lip. "The Pit," I say. "It sounds like Chuck and Minho are still over there. They should know what's happening. I'll catch up with you in a bit."
Newt looks reluctant, but he nods anyway. "Be careful."
I throw him a quick smile. "I'm always careful." And I pick up an easy jog, running around the back of the Hammock huts and out towards the shower block.
The Slammer is a trench dug into the ground, behind the showers and bathrooms. Over it, the Builders have erected a triangular slanting roof covering a row of about four 'cells'. Each has their own door made from neatly criss-crossed sticks, firmly roped together.
I've been past it before and explored for fun, but never really had a need to visit much. I was never put in one of the cells on my first day, like everyone else, on account of no one could find me.
But at the moment, Chuck and Minho are both sitting in the dust outside one of the closed doors. Chuck leans on a flaming torch, and there's the low hum of whispers.
"How is he?" I ask quietly as I approach.
Minho looks up, registering my presence with eyes that go from protective to tired. His hand, resting against the handle of his machete relaxes a fraction. I realise – mainly because I haven't thought about it before – that Minho and Thomas getting stuck in the Maze overnight really cemented the kind of friendship that would survive a war. Minho's here, not just to worry about him or keep him company, but to protect him.
"Still out of it," he says. "Muttering nonsense about brain scans, swipes and fear responses. But none of the veins have come up. It took Alby a while to come around so I think we're okay for now."
I slowly sink down next to them and peer into the shadowy ditch.
In the flickering light of Chuck's torch, I can see Thomas twitching as he lies on his side, still in his blue shirt and Runner's harness. His brow is furrowed, even in unconsciousness, and his head rests in Teresa's lap.
Her black hair spills over her shoulders and she gently brushes Thomas' forehead with her fingers. Her expression is worried.
"What about everyone else?" Chuck asks.
"Quite a few made it," I say. "Alex and Doug are gone. Joe. Billy…"
Minho's head hangs for a moment. Then he looks up at me. "Where did you go?" Before I can answer, he continues straight on, "Stan was the last person to see you before it even got totally dark, and then no one saw you all night. Tell me you found Newt."
The memory of Newt pressed tight against me is more vivid than I care to admit.
"I found him," I say. "I ended up in the woods with a bunch of the guys. We had to double back when the Council Hall collapsed because Grievers were still sniffing around."
The question I'm burning to ask finally works past my lips. "Have any of you seen Zart?"
Chuck and Minho both shake their heads. It's Teresa, who replies, just barely lifting her head.
"He's gone."
And I think I knew it anyway, but it still hurts to hear. Something inside me crumples. One of the very first boys to make me feel like I could belong on my first evening in the Glade; gone. The memory of his smile spreading from ear to ear passes through my mind like a ghost.
Teresa swallows. "He was with us when we all hid in the corn field. I think there must have been at least two. Another kid got yanked away without us seeing. Zart got pinned by the tail, and then he was flung away. Thomas couldn't grab him in time."
And now its Billy's face that swims to mind. None of us could move in time, either.
I nod, trying to swallow down the choked feeling stuck at the back of my throat.
"So what's happening?" Chuck asks now. He valiantly fights off a yawn, though his eyes are glassy.
"Gally's staging something," I say. "Newt thinks he'll have taken over by morning."
"Time to make your choices," Minho says, half to himself, and I'm glad that he understands.
"We're getting ready to leave," I say, very quiet, despite no one else being around. "Newt's trying to rally up some of the others. He was going to find Fry, Winston and…," I swallow over the gap where Zart's name should be. It still hurts. "We're thinking Thomas was sent here for this and after what you two found in the Maze…"
"You're going to have everything ready for tomorrow morning," Minho says, a light settling into his eyes that's been sorely missing for some time.
He's wanted to leave for years, too.
I nod.
"We're in," Minho says. Teresa nods firmly. Thomas mutters about immune children – but he'll be the first to dive back in the Maze when he wakes. Chuck's grip tightens on the torch until his knuckles go white.
"I'm coming, too," he says.
Minho glances into the Pit at his friend. "Okay, here's what we do. Chuck, you need to pack some essentials. Distribute them through a few bags and hide them where you can get to them quickly. Weapons, too. I'm staying here; just in case Gally decides to act early."
Chuck nods, taking his task very seriously as he stands and hurries away into the night.
"Eva-" Minho starts.
"I've got to get some things," I say.
"Thomas is going to get us out."
It's not what I expected.
When Minho speaks again, each of his words are carefully chosen. "Before he killed that Griever, there wasn't a way out. I finished mapping the Maze over eight months ago."
My breath catches in my chest.
Very suddenly, I'm torn between the violent impulse to hit or yell at him – this is a pretty huge secret to keep from everyone for the better part of a year. And he knew when he took me into the Maze while Ben was sick that there was no exit.
Explains how he could spare a day to show me around, and another to let me test myself.
But following right on the tail of that impulse, is an understanding that hits like a solid punch.
Newt tried to kill himself just because of the repetition of trying to find the way out. What would have happened if everyone knew there wasn't one at all? Or did he?
"Does Newt know?" I ask. My voice comes out cracked.
Minho shakes his head, confirming my thoughts. "Ben, Doug, Justin and I found out. We told Dimitri when he joined, and Alby. Alby was the one who said to keep it quiet – said having hope was important. And I told Thomas when he was made a Runner." There's a sad pause, and then Minho says, "I'm sorry."
I shake my head. The violent urge has all but gone.
"I get why you did it. But you're right; we are getting out now."
Minho nods, like he really believes it.
"And I can't promise I won't tell Newt," I say. I already hate the idea that I may have to keep this secret, but I'm relieved when Minho nods again.
"That's okay. The truth won't be able to hurt him after tomorrow. And if he finds out someone kept it from him, that should be on me, not you. Anyway – you should go, Eva. You need to sleep a little bit tonight, at least."
I don't know how easy that will be, but I smile tiredly anyway and leave Minho sat outside the Pit in the dark.
…
Has it really just been a day since I was last here?
I've snuck into the abandoned Medi Tent, knowing what I'm looking for. The last people in here would have been Clint and Jeff, helping Alby out before the attack.
I haven't seen either of them, but at least I've been told they're both okay.
It's strange to think that on any other day, I'd already be asleep. I'd be waking in the morning and sorting out all these supplies after breakfast before heading up to the Bloodhouse to feed the animals.
My mind stalls as a little mottled rabbit floats across it. White-Foot.
I don't even know if he survived the night. I'll probably never see him again, and I have to swallow down a discomforting feeling when I realise that makes me nearly as sad as knowing how many Gladers we've lost in just a matter of hours.
I saved his life once; gave him five months he wouldn't have had, and I try to content myself with that as I force him to the back of my thoughts.
There's things to do.
I get to work, opening up one of the old storage crates – missing items are less likely to be spotted so quickly from them – and grabbing several items. An antiseptic paste, bandages, two sealed needle containers, gauze and an anaesthetic mix are all bundled into a sling.
Just before I put the lid back on, a small tin at the bottom catches my eye, and I remember it before I touch it.
I remember cutting the contraceptive out of my arm, then injecting a new one myself.
I pick up the tin, knowing the syringe gun is inside it, and throw that in the sling, too.
I don't see anyone as I make my way back for my own hammock.
The hut is empty and still. There are no torches on and not much of a moon, so I pick my way through almost total blackness, finding my satchel by feel.
I dump the contents of the sling into it, and add the items from under my bed; the tiny knife I've kept all these months and the old contraceptive capsule. I unwind my arm bandage and lay it on top; I'll need that again.
I finally pull the bow off my back, but I set it against the wall, with the leather harness full of arrows. I'll need them, too. I won't pack them away.
I can't help pacing the room after that, my mind frazzled as it runs over everything.
This is happening.
We're leaving.
…
The sky is still black, but the smoke is slowly clearing when Newt drops into the hut.
"Eva?"
He sounds worried, so I'm quick to whisper back to him, rounding the partition to his section.
He shrugs out of his machete harness, hanging it on the usual post.
"Minho said you'd gone off again," Newt says, though he sounds resigned - oddly fond – rather than annoyed or upset. He quickly moves past it, sinking sideways onto his hammock as he continues. "Frypan's in. Winston's worried about his team at the minute, and scared of trying the Maze, but he's not impressed with Gally. Dan's in. Jack said he'll see what he can do."
He shakes his head, fighting off a yawn, and rubs the back of his neck instead.
Just watching him makes me feel tired.
"All the fires are out. I sent everyone off to get some sleep. Haven't seen Gally but Eric and Henry were passing the Mess hall and said he looked ready to crash, last they saw."
"Good," I say quickly, spotting an opening. "Even Gally is going to sleep soon, so you can, too."
Newt looks up at me, clearly conflicted.
I walk over to him. "You've done all you can. Even Gally won't just throw Thomas in the Maze with no witnesses. If we're really escaping tomorrow – today – we need sleep."
We need to at least try.
I've walked close enough that I can reach out and pick up the end of one of his blankets. Smiling is exhausting, but I do it anyway as I toss the one in my hand over his head.
The strained feeling in the air breaks.
Newt blindly catches my wrist and tugs, as he fights off the blanket and huffs a laugh. The hammock sways under the movement and I topple across him, into the cradle of the worn fabric.
I'm so tired in so many ways that it's the most comfortable thing I've ever felt.
"I think I'm just going to sleep here," I say.
I'm sort of joking, but Newt just shifts around, lifting my legs off of his, ignoring my amused 'what are you doing?', until we're bundled into the hammock pretty comfortably together.
"Go to sleep," he says, voice quiet against my hair.
I kick off my boots, hear them hit the floor quietly, and turn into Newt's warmth.
"If you say so," I mutter.
I feel him kiss my forehead and I'm asleep in seconds.
INFO
Buckle in; lots of it.
1. Right. The deaths. This is something I feel is really important. The movie was very good at sort of avoiding the true horror of the Griever attack, I personally think. Sure, it was nasty, and it destroyed the Glade and people died, and Alby was killed...but how many of those boys could you name? How many did you know? Two. Alby and Zart. But I've made this entire story about the family, the community, the characters themselves. So it was really important for me that the deaths you see here aren't faceless. They're people I've (hopefully) brought to life, at least a little, and that should always have a bigger impact than killing off someone you never got to know in the first place. So do me a small favour and just compare the two names in the movie that really mattered, to the body count here, and (awful as it may seem) I really hope the number for this story is higher; Alex, Doug, Joe, Billy. None of them have been central to this story in the way Fry, Stan, Dan, Frankie and so on have been, but they're hopefully still names you recognise and can remember. And to me, that makes the difference. It makes the situation that much worse. Which is the whole point.
2. Specific deaths: Billy. This one was necessary. A death had to happen directly within the group Eva banded with during the night. The immediacy of it; how easily he was snatched and how closely he worked with them all combine to bring the reality of the danger that much closer. And the fact that you see a fragment of his fate; he's still alive when he's dragged away, is a further descent into the horror of it. Because this event shouldn't be a cool thing in my mind. It shouldn't be an opportunity to be heroic or awesome and show off. Its a set up and everyone knows that they're not all going to survive. Just my opinion.
3. Zart. I hate this. If I was going to save anyone...but nope. I'm not interfering with the plot as you see it. So his death was a very sad given. And I think his absence is one that would probably impact Eva the most, because he's one of the first people she ever spoke to, and he's always kind of been there. But as it is, there's too much happening for her to dwell on it. Which can only be a good thing...
4. And the third one is Alby. Obviously this was in the film, so it comes under the 'foregone conclusion' band. You knew it was going to happen anyway. But I feel Newt's reaction is kind of important. Alby's death does affect him; its his best friend. But Newt has already sort of faced the reality of Alby dying before tonight. I personally think he probably processed it as an actuality the night he got stuck out there, and every day he lived beyond that was already borrowed time. So while it will hurt, and he will need to grieve, Newt's already been able to compartmentalise that before the attack even happened. I have more thoughts on this, but they're not as relevant here.
5. Last point on the deaths. All of the boys who died do hold with what information we are given in canon. I used the Book's Wiki to work out which boys died during the night raids by the Grievers, and I also used the Name Wall seen in the film as a guide. For instance, the name 'Justin' on the name wall is crossed out all the way through the movie, which is what inspired me to make Justin a Runner who was banished before Thomas arrives. This is just one example. But effectively, I've cross referenced the names all the way through to be sure the correct characters have the right fates.
6. The Maze. Alby and the Runners knew about the lack of an exit and kept it secret. This is kind of left open to interpretation, I think, but in my mind, Newt didn't know. If he jumped well over a year ago, but Minho only started exploring the outer sections a year ago, that means Newt had already attempted suicide before Minho discovered there was no way out. I just don't think Alby or Minho would risk telling him. So that's the way I wrote it.
7. Nearly finished, then (lots of thoughts on this chapter) I liked exploring the rest of this night. With Thomas blacked out, you miss out on what must have been going on, but I always thought a lot of planning happened before the next morning. By the time Thomas wakes up it's already light, and I don't think they'd have the time to plan everything out, pack supplies and spread the word before Gally was in action. Chuck has a lot of supplies ready, as well as the spears. Newt and Minho have a plan that they don't even use words to communicate, and everyone moves very smoothly to overpower Gally. Yep, I think that was planned before morning, so this was fun to explore from that side.
8. Newt and Eva. Everyone happy? Their conversation is really close now, but hopefully you're happy with this bit for now :)
Finally, Guest replies!
Kat: Thank you! Really glad you enjoyed it, and yes - Eva was always going to have her own story arc for the Griever Night. Retelling the same scene from the film is exactly what I didn't want, especially when it just shows a very small number of the boys in the Glade, and so much more could have been happening. We are getting towards the end, that's true, but there are still a good few chapters to go, I think. There's still a lot of answers yet to come before the end! But its good to hear you're not looking forward to it being over :) As for Newt and Eva, with everything going on, their feelings have taken a back seat, but no worries; their talk is right around the corner! Thanks again!
Guest: Thank you so much! Its really amazing to hear this is your favourite fanfic, that it makes you laugh and cry, and I appreciate your kind words on my writing more than you know. I will definitely keep writing, that's for sure!