In which escape comes with difficulty and at a price
Chapter Warnings: On screen deaths and general violence. Griever attack, folks.
AN: Briefly - because I didn't mention it in the last chapter - you may have noticed I included a particular quote from the book ("We're all bloody inspired"). I know a lot of people missed that in the film, and I'd have liked to see it personally, so I figured, why not add it in? Obviously those couple of lines you do recognise aren't mine :)
Guest reply at the end. Enjoy...if you can.
Through surprise or brute force alone – I'm not sure which – Thomas, Minho and a handful of others are able to push their spears into the creature's underside when it rears above us, and force it around.
Then our backs are to the far end, but it was never going to be as simple as that.
The boys holding spears form a shield.
They jab at it incessantly; trying to keep its snapping mouth at bay as it flails around, trying to find an opening to attack.
The sharpened ends of the spears stab into the soft, fleshy parts of the Griever. The slimy mass flinches under the onslaught, but it pushes forward anyway.
The hits can't cause any lasting damage.
But its anger grows with each strike.
Its shining black tail flashes through the air above us, the metal legs whirring as it tries to find a gap, and the mouth lined with jagged teeth snapping wildly.
And then a spear pushes into its head, shoving its weight back and one of its spiked feet almost slips off the walkway.
It lashes around and roars right at the closest boys – Thomas and Minho.
Thomas doesn't even blink.
"Push him!" He shouts, thrusting the spear right back into the Griever's head.
At least five more spears are right there and they start to herd the flailing creature to the edge where stone drops into a black chasm.
And then things go wrong very fast.
The lethal tail swings out, and everyone nearly flattens themselves to the ground as it sweeps over us.
I feel the rush of wind in its wake and as we all stand up again, the tail comes back. But it doesn't fly past. The grasping claw on the end snatches the back of Scott's shirt and hauls backwards.
The younger boy from the Kitchen doesn't even have time to scream as he's flung down the side of the bridge.
The shock of it makes my head spin.
I'm very quickly brought back to the present by a renewed shriek from the Griever, and I turn just in time to fling myself aside as one of its legs smashes down where I was.
Teresa's been knocked to her knees, but she wheels on the leg slashing hard with the knife in her hand at the joint.
There's a high pitched noise; the knife goes spinning out of her hand, catching the tracking canister that Chuck holds with a white fist.
The knife spirals down the chasm and the canister arcs through the air, hits the stone floor and begins to roll to the edge.
"The key!" Chuck shouts.
He races past me, as fast as he can go, ignoring Teresa's yelling for him.
Brave kid, I can't help thinking, as he almost throws himself bodily down the gap.
Teresa's on his tail, so I whirl back around, jumping in to grab the end of a spear that's sliding through Jackson's fingers. He gives me a nod, eyes blown wide and with both our weight, we lean it back into the Griever.
I'm pressed in either side by Stan and Frankie, who also add their weight to Winston and Tim's spears.
We gain ground. The creature's legs strike out, grating against the stone.
A leg stabs in right next to Jackson, catching in a crack and holding.
I don't even think.
I let go of the spear, and Jackson's grip slides down to make up the loss of force. I duck out of the bow on my back and swing it around the metal leg, holding both ends tightly and pulling with all my weight.
I can still hear the creak of the worn wood, even over the yells around me.
I fall back. I feel a tug in the base of my spine, and the cold stone through my torn jeans.
The bow flexes, but holds. It forces the standing pad off the metal appendage from the crack and it kicks back into the air. It catches at my sleeve as it goes; shredding it to ribbons. The bandage underneath saves my skin.
The monster's grappling for ground turns panicked and hopeless as the boys force its weight over the side.
It screams as it plummets – lost to the darkness long before we hear any kind of impact.
"Thomas, Thomas!"
Chuck's terror filled voice echoes in the stone chamber.
We're all breathing hard, stood at the edge of the walkway, wondering if it would jinx us to think 'we did it'. But heads whip towards the boy's calls.
He and Teresa race back to the group – the canister in hand – and in their wake are two more Grievers.
Of course.
The two of them run between Thomas and Newt, straight for the far end of the walk, and we all converge behind them.
I throw the bow back over my shoulder. It's no good right now.
The boys raise the spears again and I jump back in to help Jackson.
A third Griever joins the fray, scaling up the side of the stone passage.
They twist around one another, legs clicking and mouths screeching as they try to overpower us.
Behind our grouping, there's a strange, mechanical beeping sound, and the loud grating of stone against stone echoes through the chamber as the flat wall at the end rises up.
Three thick stone segments lift, one after the other, opening a square box at the end of the walkway, and at the end of that, a round hole.
"Teresa, GO!" Thomas yells, still up front with Minho, Frypan and Newt.
Teresa and Chuck run towards the hole in the wall.
Just feet from me, I hear a scream.
I whip around just in time to see Henry – Henry, who's only been here for three months – get his spear snatched away and bitten into three pieces in the mouth of a Griever. Henry is pulled forwards, off his feet as he's disarmed, and he's defenceless between the creatures' legs as they turn on him.
A tail stabs through his stomach. The colour drains from his face, a red stain blossoming across his shirt in the instant before he is flung back over the Grievers and down the chasm.
A scream traps in my throat and never makes it out.
I start forward, ducking under a tail and snatching the knife from my boot as I go. The metal is warm in my hand, and I grip it so tight my fingers turn white.
Its only when I've managed to run in close to the monster that I realise I'm not alone.
Eric, rage flooding his expression to cover the horror, has run in next to me, holding his spear like a javelin.
He jumps, when he's moved past the legs, and the creature turns its blind face to him the instant he buries the tipped end into its side. Eric's scream is angry, even as the Griever writhes, shaking him loose.
He collapses back onto the stone, and I can see the Griever lift its leg – go to turn on him.
I hear someone shout about numbers. I think someone yells my name.
I throw my weight against the mechanical leg, which doesn't move it at all. It just sends a shock of pain up my side – bad idea – and one of my arrows clatters free to the ground, but it does get the creature's attention.
The minute I'm staring into the slimy face, the mouth bigger than my head and gaping into a black tunnel, saliva dripping between the shard-like teeth, terror rises like a wave inside me.
I hear my heart beating frantically, bruising itself on my ribs.
There's a pulsing in my head like white heat.
My legs go numb and I can't hear anything.
Fear has never frozen me before, but I've never stared death in the face quite like this, either.
It stretches forwards.
Something breaks free inside me.
I bring up my arm and ram the tiny knife right into the high point of its head.
It screams right into my face, but I think I've already gone deaf, because the sound echoes like it's from far away.
It flails, head twisting. For a second, I think it's trying to grab hold of my hair.
I feel my arm pull from my shoulder.
No.
Hang on.
The Griever wrenches its head up. My leg – the one I bruised so long ago – gives out. There's a strange cracking sound somewhere behind me. Then there's an arm at my back, supporting me, and I bite down hard on my own lip, renewed strength rushing up my arm.
As the Griever lifts away, I pull down on the knife.
It takes all my strength to stop the blade kicking back. I just manage to keep dug it in as it tears two inches deep into the muscle where the brain might be.
And then I can't hold it any more.
Very stupid, I think wanly.
Bleeding the same black substance I saw during the night time attack, it backs up, still shaking its head – more like there's a fly on it than a knife wound.
My leg is trembling and I'm a little light headed with how fast my heart is going.
Eric hauls me back into the group where Dan quickly lifts me up.
I grit my teeth and force myself to stand though the ground feels like it's at an angle. I think I've split my lip.
The whole thing can't have lasted longer than a minute.
Two Grievers are still trying their best, but as we back into the square tunnel, they're pressed close so they can both fit through.
A foot comes down on my fallen arrow, breaking it in half.
"What the hell was that?" Dan yells at me, even as he takes back his spear from Jack.
I can only just hear him over the muffling of my own head and all the other shouts around us.
"She saved my ass," Eric shouts at him. "It took Henry!"
"Almost lost my face, though," I mutter. It's a memory I won't be getting rid of any time soon.
He's right, it was stupid.
But then…stupidity is sort of relative, isn't it?
Gally's arguably stupid for staying, but we're equally idiotic for deciding to risk life and limb in a very unfair fight against these things.
Before Dan can reply, there's a shout.
I suddenly realise Minho has been yelling numbers, because all at once, he's stopped. Instead, he's flattened under a creature that came from nowhere.
It pushes the other Grievers back and its legs stamp out to balance it. Only Minho's strength on the spear in his hands keeps the Griever from biting into him. It's closer than I ever got.
A number of boys shout his name.
Minho braces himself against the floor, the spear keeping the jaws apart as saliva coats the wood.
And then Jeff lets out a battle cry.
He lunges past Dan and stabs his own spear down into the Griever's head.
It roars at the pain, but it lifts off of Minho, who abandons his spear to crawl quickly out of the way.
Jeff hangs on, keeping the end of the spear buried tight in, even as the monster thrashes.
And finally, when it seems to realise Jeff isn't letting go, it bites deep into his leg and starts to chew.
Blood rushes down the canvas pants and his scream tears through the chaos.
Oh God no.
The Griever retreats. Two more approach, flanking the first and quickly fill the gap.
The blood loss is quick. Jeff's grip on the spear loosens and then his screams die. He's gone from sight before he's dead.
"Jeff!" Winston shouts hopelessly after him.
They were friends.
I was there before Winston arrived; I remember watching them form a friendship and hang out at the fire pit. It's easier to feel for him; focus on his grief rather than my own.
How many more?
Minho is hurriedly shouting out numbers again.
Chuck stands at the entrance to the hole, quickly trying to crowd everyone inside.
I push Eric ahead of me and Dan shoves me in front of him as we all pile into the darkness.
The blaring red light from the panel at the back fills the gloom.
Newt, Thomas and Minho back into the hole last, still armed with spears. One tries to tug Newt's away from him. The memory of how it pulled Henry into the air has my heart leaping into my throat but the spear splinters. Newt catches his balance as the end shears away in the Griever's mouth.
The red light from the back turns green.
There's a horrible grinding noise, and the Griever's pause, turning their heads in something that might have been confusion.
The first of the three stone segments comes crashing down, closing us in with three frantic monsters.
One turns for the dropped door, raising itself against it rather like a dog asking to be let out.
For some crazy reason, I find this funny, but I can't laugh or even smile.
The other two wheel on us. One shrieks, but before it can move, the second segment drops right on it.
The last one lunges.
Thomas flings his spear so hard I'm surprised he doesn't wrench his shoulder. It sails straight, like a javelin, and stabs into the last creature's head. Like before, it doesn't seem to do it lethal damage, but it makes it recoil just enough that it too is crushed as the final stone slab seals shut.
A sickly brown-green mess of slime and what could be organs and I really don't want to think about it anymore splatters from beneath the wall.
There is a beat.
Everyone, gasping for breath, stunned and horrified, stands in the tiny hole.
And then the hole, too, closes on us with a spiralling mechanical shutter, leaving us in blackness.
…
We don't wait there long.
There's a hissing noise – this one quiet and passive, rather than something living – and then a clanking sound as a metal door at the back of the hole breaks its seal.
Teresa pushes.
Cold, clinical light pours in, a disorienting contrast from everything inside the Maze, from the natural sunlight of the Glade, the firelight or even the shadowy stone and the black of the Griever hole.
My hands tremble, and I realise I'm still holding my tiny knife.
I shove it back in my boot, trying not to look at the black stain on my torn sleeve.
The corridor beyond the door is wide, filled with neat lines of pipes. It's all grey, including the floor, and the walls curve very slightly as they continue in both directions.
There's a clanging noise as strobe lights power on one after the other above us, chasing the shadows down the corridor and around the curve, out of sight. They issue a low buzzing sound.
It's a maintenance tunnel.
Maintenance for the Maze.
Like someone has stabbed me, I feel a prick of anger deep in my stomach, and it blossoms into something tight and coiled as we all file out of the hole.
Teresa and Chuck both look to Thomas, but his expression is as stunned and bewildered as the rest of us.
Next to me, Eric's face is ghost white. I imagine I probably don't look much better.
None of us do.
Winston looks ragged, Stan is shaking and Jack's eyes are huge and round. Jackson is pale and Frankie is bleeding. That's just the start.
My eyes seek out Newt. He's no better than the rest; grime and black blood in his hair and smudged across his skin. His shirt is far from white and there's a shuttered look in his eyes. But he spots me, too, and I can see a fragment of the resolve he had just hours ago, back in the hut, return.
"Which way?" Chuck asks. His voice cracks.
Thomas gives a helpless, slow shrug.
But when no one moves, he takes a breath and starts walking.
…
"Seriously?"
And honestly, I'm with Fry.
Three years, banishings, Box Days, injuries, Griever attacks and more deaths than I can count…and it ends with this.
A glowing green EXIT sign above a door.
They must enjoy sick irony.
Bastards.
INFO
1. So this was a very busy, fast paced chapter. The next one does slow down in this regard because - and you can cheer when you feel like it - my exposition chapter is up next. Finally getting some answers! I expect there'll be a decent handful of notes after that. And yes, more deaths. Sad, but also necessary.
2. In terms of the scene itself, I bet no one can even guess how many times I watched, rewatched, paused, rewound and literally walked through frame-by-frame just this scene of the movie. I wanted it to be accurate. So, as much as possible and barring Eva's contributions and telling of it, everything you read should fit to what you see without too many deviations. That includes Scott and Henry's deaths and even the Griever near the end who rears up against the wall like a dog (I did not make that up). So it took a while to write, just because of how mad I am.
3. Eva's bow. I'd like to have actually used it more here, because she made it herself and it is an effective (if not amazing or accurate) weapon, but it just didn't pan out that way. Although she made the bow, she has always been more comfortable with knives, so it makes sense, both for her and in the situation that she'd turn to that tiny knife she found before she even saw the Glade. I like that it kind of comes a full circle in that way. But also, its previously been made clear that the bow can have dodgy aim. In such a tight space, with Gladers moving so fast, she wouldn't risk hitting one of them. Sadly, that lines up with life; we do things, make plans and arrangements and they don't always pan out. So I hope this reasoning makes sense, even if I'd have liked to feature the arrows more.
4. On Eva herself. All through this, even when she had no idea who she was, there have been hints at how she reacts to fear and being afraid, but I feel I can expand a bit on it now. She armed herself within moments of waking up, she found a weapon in a strange world whilst being chased. She'd rather avoid a situation and keep her distance than confront it (running from Justin), but when pushed, she does react offensively (spiking Alby). I wrote Eva as someone who is able to use her fear; being scared motivates her. It pushes her to be protective (pushing Newt away from the beam), calm (with Dimitri in the Maze) and even violent (the bow and the knife against Grievers). Fear brings out some of the best and worst in her, which is kind of important to who she is (and why it shakes her so much when she freezes, because its not something she's used to). Its also an underlying theme of this story in its entirety - we are defined by fear. WCKD know that; its why those kids are even there. And as readers, we know that. I think its an important part of both this fanfiction and the source material itself, the idea that being truly afraid can make you someone that maybe you didn't even know you could be.
5. This is a moment I loved in the film. That moment they break out of the holding cell into the maintenance tunnel. Its such a shift of worlds and you can see that change so distinctly, right on the threshold of that door - the grunge, weathering, darkness and decay for this clinical grey walkway with the pristine pipes, cold strobe lights and buzzing of electrics. The textures and feel shift so sharply and it's just really well done, I thought. Eva just doesn't think this part over as much as I do. And I can't really blame her. She almost died. Again. And then that last part - the Exit sign. I think I actually laughed when I first saw it. That is such cruel irony and so fitting in how wildly out of place it is. So yep; I loved those moments. Probably for all the wrong reasons.
6. Does anyone out there have a fancasting for Eva? I've been trying to find someone who I can see as her, but so far no luck. If I can find someone, I'd love to have a go at making some gifsets or even a video for this fic (or if anyone with skills in this area feels like it, I'd love to see!)
I think there's only a couple of chapters left...
Right, Guest Reply
Ashlyn: Thank you so much! Haha, I'm glad you enjoyed their scene and yes, Newt wasn't too brain addled :) The scene where they first kiss, following the Kitchen Accident is on my list of things to write, so hopefully I'll get to that before too long. Its great to hear its still your favourite, too. As for continuing the story...I have some drafted ideas of where it would go during the Scorch Trials, but as I haven't read the book or seen the film, I have no way of knowing if my ideas will actually fit with the movie's version of events. And I know even less about Death Cure than I do about Scorch Trials. So for now, I have a vague idea, but any possible sequels are on hold until I've seen the movie. I'll decide what I'm doing then :)