Clara kept a steady pace with the other Gladers as they wound along pathways toward the Cliff. Occasionally she would glance over at Newt to see how he was holding up. He'd fallen back a bit and Minho took the lead, guiding the group through every turn. It was interesting to see all of the boys running together, some more athletic than others. There was nothing to be heard except for the sound of dozens of shoes on stone and heaving breaths.

Finally, after a painfully long trip, they arrived at a long alleyway; one more turn to the left and they would be facing the Cliff. Clara was a few feet behind Thomas with Newt at her side. Minho slowed at the corner and stopped, holding a hand up to signal the others. Then he stiffened, turning towards them with a look of horror on his face.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered. Thomas shook his head, as did Clara. Minho peered around the sharp stone corner to look at the Cliff, but quickly jerked back, his face pale.

"Oh no," he moaned "Oh, no." Clara heard Newt whimper as the sound of Griever machinery echoed across the walls. "There's at least a dozen of them. Maybe fifteen. They're just waiting for us!" he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, exasperated. An icy chill ran through Clara, settling in the pit of her stomach.

"Well, we knew we'd have to fight," Newt said, a slight tremor in his voice.

Thomas tried to offer some optimism. "Maybe they've already taken a kid back at the Glade. Maybe we can get past them-why else would they just be sitting-" A loud noise from behind them cut Thomas off.

Clara spun around to see more Grievers coming down the corridor they had just been down, straight towards them, spikes flaring. Then, the Grievers on another side of the alleyway joined in, blocking out their only two escape routes.

The enemy was on all sides, blocking them off.

The Gladers formed a tight group as the Grievers waited for their next move. Everyone faced a Griever in every direction. Clara was pressed against Newt and Alby; she could feel Newt trembling as he gripped his spear. No one said a word, the only sounds being the moaning and whirring of the Grievers. Thomas looked over at Newt, who was next to him.

"Got any ideas?" he asked

Newt swallowed hard. "No," he replied shakily "I don't understand what they're bloody waitin' for."

"We shouldn't have come," Alby murmured

"Well, we'd be no better off in the Homestead." Thomas said, "Hate to say it, but if one of us dies, it's better than all of us."

A long moment passed before Alby replied. "Maybe I should..." he trailed off in thought. He started to walk forward slowly, as if in a trance, towards the direction of the Cliff.

"Alby? Get back here!" Newt hissed

"Alby what are you doing" Clara whispered, too scared to go after him.

Alby didn't respond, instead he broke into a run, heading straight for one of the Griever packs.

"Alby!" Newt screamed. He started to run forward towards him, but Clara and Thomas caught him by the arms and pulled him back. Alby soon made it to one of the creatures and jumped on top of it; the Griever burst to life and attacked him with a flurry of mechanical arms. Newt struggled against Clara and Thomas' grip. "Let go!"

"Are you nuts!" Thomas yelled back. "There's nothing you can do!" As a few more Grievers swarmed on top of his friend, Newt finally stopped fighting them, collapsing backward in defeat.

Alby was definitely not the same after he went through the Changing, but this was way off the deep end. A sickening feeling filled her insides, like the one that she felt when Zart died. Another person that she cared about, fell victim to the Creators' games. Newt stared at the spot where Alby once stood, his eyes darkened.

"I can't believe it," he whispered. "I can't believe he just did that." Clara looked up at him solemnly, locking their elbows together and rubbing his arm. Minho moved towards them and squeezed Newt's shoulder.

"We can't waste what he did." He said, turning towards Thomas "We'll fight 'em if we have to, make a path to the Cliff for you and Teresa. Get in the Hole and do your thing- we'll keep them off until you scream for us to follow."

Thomas looked at the Grievers surrounding them; Clara could see imaginary wheels turning in his head as he scanned each group. "Hopefully they'll go dormant for a while. We should only need a minute or so to punch in the code."

"How can you guys be so heartless?" Newt scoffed under his breath. Clara tugged at his arm and he looked at her, bitterness in his scowl, but grief in his eyes. He'd lost one of his best friends, and they didn't even have time to mourn him. She knew how much that hurt, no one had even mentioned Zart after he was killed. It felt like Clara was the only one who cared about him. But Clara also knew Alby was not in the right headspace, and his decision was influenced by that. Newt could see the tears begin to well up in her eyes and his gaze softened, but hardened again when he heard Minho's voice.

"What do you want Newt? Should we all dress up and have a funeral?" Minho remarked. Newt didn't respond but kept his eyes on the pile of Grievers that continued to tear apart at Alby from afar.

"Minho!" Clara hissed "What is wrong with you?" A pang of guilt flashed across Minho's face for a second.

"Alby didn't wanna go back to his old life." Minho continued "He freaking sacrificed himself for us- and they aren't attacking, so maybe it worked. We'd be heartless if we wasted it."

"This is what he wanted, Newt. Just like you told me, he wants us to do what he knew we needed to do." Clara explained. Newt didn't look at either of them and instead lowered his eyes to the ground and shrugged.

Minho turned to face the Gladers behind them. "Listen up! Number one priority is to protect Thomas and Teresa. Get them to the Cliff and the Hole so-"

He was cut off by the sound of revving machinery from all sides as the Grievers came to life, noticing that the Gladers were still there. Their spikes were popping out of their skin, shiny with slime, and they pulsed like beating hearts. Then, to Clara's horror, they began to move toward them wielding their sharp appendages.

It didn't work. Alby's sacrifice didn't work.