It was an arduously long afternoon. Once again, Gally and Winston stood guard at the Door and the rest remained underground. The circumstances were much different this time, but the fear was just as prevalent. The hours went slowly, but eventually, the Doors rumbled shut and they began to breathe again.

Hank had finally stopped screaming. He lay in the Med Jack hut, twitching and squirming like a dying insect. Jeff and Clint watched over him, taking shifts during the dinner meal. After eating, Gally, Newt and Minho met with Alby under the dugout roof for another meeting. Minho was the centre of attention as Alby called upon him for the entire story.

"What happened out there Minho?"

Minho, who had recovered from his initial shock, was now breathing calmly. He sat before Gally, Newt and Alby, his hands clasped before him, looking at the floor.

"I've told you about the sections, Alby. The Maze is fairly condensed in terms of passageways and corridors. They go on like that for a mile at least. But on the outside, the outermost sections are wider, more spread apart. There are eight different sections and as far as I can tell, they open up one at a time. But it's not in any reasonable order, it's some sort of pattern. I can't track it yet, I'm still working on the smaller walls,"

Alby nodded, he had heard all of this from Minho during his weekly report. Almost half of the Maze had been run and the model was well under construction. The changes of the walls were under review and Minho was working hard on cracking the code. It was taking longer than anticipated, but he was doing his best. Gally and Newt had heard some, but not everything. They leaned forward expectantly.

Minho continued.

"We were in the eighth section today, I was hoping to map some of it. We were right at the front, we hadn't even gone in yet. I sent Hank ahead, not all the way, but just a passageway ahead. I wanted him to look out for any doors, exits, that kind of thing. I hadn't heard a Griever yet and I assumed it was safe. I should've double-checked,"

He dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders shaking with unshed tears. Alby leaned forward and grasped his shoulder.

"You did what you could Minho, you are not to blame. But we have to know what happened,"

Minho lifted himself back up, sniffing several times before he steadied enough to continue.

"I had Ben behind me, to count how many passages we were from the Glade. I didn't hear anything until… Hank started screaming and that's when I heard the Griever… I called Ben back and we got around the wall together. But it wasn't there. It was gone. Hank was leaning up against the wall… I thought he was dead," Minho took a shuddering breath before he spoke again. "When we got closer, we could see he was still breathing. It looked like he had been knocked unconscious. I thought the Griever had just knocked him around, maybe we were getting too close to something. I didn't see… I didn't see the hole,"

Alby kept his hand on Minho's shoulder.

"Come on Minho!" His voice was gentle but firm. Minho shook himself.

"Ben and I decided we had better get him to the Glade. We didn't know if the Griever was going to come back and we couldn't just leave Hank there. We carried him back through the Maze and we were almost at the Door when he... he just snapped. He started yelling and we had to drop him. He was trying to attack us. We let him chase us back to the Glade and that's where you found us. He had been stabbed or stung, I didn't see it until you pulled off his shirt. I… I couldn't see it,"

Alby stepped away, digesting the new information. Minho dropped his head and sat shaking in silence. Newt and Gally looked at each other and then back at Alby.

After some time of silence, Newt spoke up, directing his question to Alby.

"Do you think Hank will make it?"

Alby did not look up, his hands out before him as he leaned over his knees.

"I don't know. Clint and Jeff will have to answer that,"

More silence. Gally spoke up, his voice wavering.

"If that shank dies, what does that mean for us?"

Alby shook his head, rubbing his hands over his head.

"I don't know, Gally, I really don't know," His voice was cracking too, the overwhelming sense of helplessness was wearing at him. All they could do was to wait and see.

Minho was still shaking.

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry. If Hank doesn't make it… I just want you guys to know…," He sat up, sniffling quietly. "I wanted to get us out. I wanted to get you all out of here,"

Alby nodded, taking deep, shaky breaths. Gally and Newt, their eyes filled with hopelessness, nodded to him as well. There was nothing more to say.

They could only wait.

And that was the worst of all.

"How is he, Jeff?"

Alby kept his voice low as he stood, his arms crossed over his chest, in the Med Jack's Hut. Gally, Newt and Minho had been sent back to the fire. The black-haired Runner was given a warning about returning to the Maze too quickly. He was instructed to tell Ben there would be no run the next day.

Hank lay like a corpse on the sickbed, Clint was watching over him. Jeff had taken a break to speak with Alby. The Med Jack ran a hand through his thick hair, looking as helpless as Alby felt.

"I've never seen anything like this, not that I've seen all that much," He sniffed and folded his arms. "That Griever, it injected something into him, some kind of poison. I don't know if it's contagious or completely harmless. I'm not sure if he's gonna sleep this off or… if this is going to kill him. Clint has tried every medicine we have and nothing has changed. He's quiet now, but whatever is in him, it's spreading. His entire system has been rewired. Alby…," Jeff turned to his leader, his eyes shining. "I'm not sure if he's gonna make it,"

Alby could not answer, the probability of losing one of the Glader's seemed like a dream. A distant nightmare he had hoped would never rear its ugly head. Although, deep down, he could not deny that he had known it had only been a matter. What scared him now was that he didn't know what it would mean.

Jeff was waiting for some sort of assurance from him and Alby was hard-pressed to give it.

"Keep him as still as you can; don't let him overexert himself. Take shifts watching him and I'll come back in the morning,"

Jeff nodded. He did not look hopeful and Alby left without another word.

There was much to think about.

Gally and Newt, who had rejoined the Glader's at the fire, were not allowed to divulge the information they had obtained at the meeting. They did their best to calm some of the Glader's, who peppered them with questions.

"Is Hank going to be alright?"

"Does Alby know what's going to happen?"

Newt raised his hands to the eagerness.

"Alby will have more to say tomorrow. There isn't anything to be done tonight. We just have to wait. Alby will figure this out,"

The boys muttered amongst themselves, not entirely convinced everything was under control. After a while, the Glader's left to bunk down for the night. Newt and Gally headed to their own hammocks. They met Eve on her way back from her evening bath.

Her eyes were wide and she looked nervous.

"They still don't know what's wrong with him, do they?"

Newt shook his head.

"No, we don't know any more than we did this afternoon,"

Gally was distracted, kicking at the ground as he muttered under his breath. Eve cocked her head at him.

"What's wrong?"

Gally sat down in the hammock, his back to her.

"It's a change in the Glade. Who knows what that could mean?"

Newt intervened before Eve could ask anything more.

"We don't know and for now, that's all we do know. There's no use in bloody dissecting what we don't know, alright? Let's get some sleep and Alby will have more for us in the morning,"

Gally did not respond as he took off his boots, tossing his shirt off without a care for where it landed.

"We do know something. Things are going to change from here on out. A change in the Glade is never a good thing,"

Newt looked over at Gally, willing him to be silent. Eve, sitting crossed-legged in her hammock, was watching the Builder with wide eyes. Gally only continued, turning around to meet her gaze.

"If Hank dies, maybe we all die. Maybe that's it, game over,"

"Slim it, Gally," Newt's voice was strained. The blonde scowled and ducked under his covers. Eve bit her lip as she turned to Newt.

"Do you think that's true?"

Newt put up his hands, he was not going to make any assumptions about the subject.

"I don't know and neither does Gally. Let the morning bring what it may. Go to sleep, both of you,"

Eve didn't respond. Newt kicked off his boots and pulled his shirt over his head. Finally, they both tucked into their hammocks, settling in for the night.

Morning came, only to remind the Glader's that they were still alive. A sense of dread, fear and anxiety floated in the air. Everyone pretended to go about their work, stealing glances to the Med Jack Hut, waiting for something to happen. Gally and Eve were in the woods, collecting tree branches, but even they kept their ears pricked for any sort of noise.

There was little to choose from, all as quiet in the Glade that day.

Newt was doing his best to keep the peace. He stood beside Zart as they inspected the garden, debating on when to plant more tomatoes. Fry Pan and Winston were close by, speaking quietly with their heads pressed in. Minho and Ben were nowhere to be seen, but they had not left the Glade. The work was minimal, but it was enough to keep the Glader's distracted.

Alby was conferring with Jeff and Clint, he had been in the Med Jack Hut since the first light of dawn had bled into the sky. Hank's condition had not changed.

"I can't explain it," Jeff stood with a hand over his face, looking at the ground. The Med Jack's face was drained of colour and he looked exhausted. Neither he nor Clint had had any sleep since Hank was placed into their care. Jeff spread his fingers before his face as if in defeat. "He's quieted down, hasn't tried to break out of his restraints at all. But he looks the same. I mean he's talking, but he still isn't making any sense,"

Alby, who stood before Jeff, looked over his shoulder to where Clint was bending over Hank. The Runner lay on the bed, bare-chested and slick with sweat, his eyes closed as if he was asleep. He was twitching, his head whipping from one side to the other, mumbling under his breath. The black vein-like patterns covering his skin had not dwindled, but they did not seem to have grown either. The hole above his heart was cleaned and bandaged, but dark blood stained the corners of the fabric. Jeff shrugged, bringing Alby's attention back to him; his report was altogether too short.

"We haven't been able to decipher anything he's said. He won't answer any of our questions. All he talks about is 'them' as if he thinks someone is here. I can't understand it,"

Alby nodded, running his thumb over his chin as he thought over the possibilities.

"You haven't tried to take, whatever it is, out of him?"

Jeff spread his arms wide, helpless.

"I don't think we can. We broke into one of those black vessels early this morning, it's just dark blood. We've tried to strain it, clean it you know, but we can't. Nothing we're giving him is helping either," Jeff looked hopeless, defeated. He kept his voice low as he delivered the final blow. "I don't think we're going to be able to save him,"

Alby didn't respond for a time, chewing on his thumb. After a few minutes of silence, he nodded to Jeff and stepped around him, into Clint's space.

The Keeper looked up, shaking his head.

"Jeff has said it all, Alby. There's nothing I can do for him,"

Alby crossed his arms over his chest.

"What are our options?" His voice was heavy.

Clint stood up, stepping away from Hank to speak to Alby more directly. His face was hollow and his eyes were dull.

"We're out of options," he looked back at Hank, who was squirming, seemingly oblivious to their presence. His mutterings were hardly audible, his mouth moving in seemingly senseless patterns. Clint looked back to Alby, his eyes black with sadness. "We can only take away his pain," His voice was a whisper.

Alby dropped his arm, eyeing Clint seriously.

"You mean…?" He swallowed hard, unable to finish the statement.

Clint nodded slowly.

"That's the only thing we have left. This... this is no way to live," He gestured to Hank. "We... we can't save him Alby... I can't do it," The new Med Jack was defeated, his first case a failure. Alby was quiet for some time. He knew what Clint and Jeff had told him was the truth; their list of options had run out. The probability of Hank dying was almost inevitable, but he could not help feeling like it was still up to the Runner. Patting the Med Jack on his shoulder, Alby stepped around him, walking slowly over to the sickbed. He knelt beside the incoherent Runner. Hank did not react to his presence.

"Hank," Alby's voice was soft, intense.

The Runner twitched, turning his head to Alby and back again.

"Hank, it's your choice," Alby's voice caught in his throat.

No response, more twitching, mumbling. The words soon became tangible and Alby picked up the rambling.

"They're here, I can see them. They can see me!" His breath was ragged, smelling of something rotten as he panted each syllable. The black gunk had been cleaned off his mouth, face and chest. But nothing could be done for the black poison running through his veins. Alby bowed his head, sadness and despair threatening to drown him. He looked up once more, his eyes misty.

"It's your choice Hank," his voice was soft, hardly a whisper. Clint stood a few feet from Alby, unable to look. Jeff joined his superior, his eyes focused but watery.

Hank's voice changed, his words were slurred and desperate.

"Please… please. You have to do it,"

Alby's eyes were on him.

"We have to do what, Hank?"

Hank didn't respond right away, continuing to squirm and twist, slowly becoming more agitated. Suddenly, his eyes flew open and he strained against the ropes tying him down.

"Please! Please… you must!" His voice was determined, almost clear. Alby stood up, leaning a knee on the sickbed, trying to catch Hank's eye. The Runner twisted back and forth, frothing as he fought to free his arms and legs. A tear rolled down his cheeks as he looked up at the Glade leader. Hank seemed to recognize Alby and reached out towards him. Alby bent further in and Hank grasped his shirt weakly, sobbing. A thin trail of blood leaked out of the corner of his mouth and his darkened eyes were filled with all the sadness of the world.

"Kill me," Hank knew what he said now, it was unmistakable.

His gaze pierced into Alby's.

"Please. Kill me,"

Ably took his hands and held them in his own.

"Hank…,"

Hank scratched at Alby's hands, tears mingling with the blood on his face.

"You must!" He choked on some more blood. "Kill me. Please!" His voice rose and was shrill with desperation. He was dying and he knew it; there was nothing to be done for him. "Kill me! Kill me... please," He pulled his hands away and grasped at Alby's arms, his shoulders and onto his shirt, pulling his body up as much as he could. "Kill me! You have to kill me!"

Alby pulled back, letting Hank fall back onto the bed. He was shaking, the eyes of the Runner forever imprinted in his mind. But he had an obligation to the Glader. He nodded, the enormity of that decision almost causing him to topple.

"If that is what you want," Although he spoke with authority, the pain in his voice was unmistakable.

Hank's hands dropped to his sides, his body convulsing with a sudden fit of coughing. More blood sprayed from his mouth and Alby took a step back. Clint and Jeff were in shock, their faces red as they looked on to their leader.

Alby stood straight, his fists curling as he fought back tears. He didn't want to give Hank his wish. He didn't want to kill him, it was against everything in his being. It was the opposite of what his body was screaming for him to do.

Save him! Do everything you can, just save him! Don't give up!

But they had to.

Hank was pleading, begging for them to take his life. He knew there was nothing to be done and he wanted it to be over. Alby could not tear his gaze away from those of the Runner's; desperate, black and empty. They would never shine again. They would never see the outside of this Maze. The Glade leader took a step back, his hands trembling uncontrollably. After a long moment, he beckoned Clint forward. The Med Jack Keeper sniffed, wiping his eyes on his sleeve as he stepped up to Alby. Jeff covered his mouth with his hands and turned away. Alby looked up into Clint's eyes and the Med Jack's eyes widened. His body began to tremble and he stepped away, terrified.

"I can't, Alby please! I can't do it! Don't make me do it!"

Alby blinked his eyes closed, opening them again to another fresh round of tears. He beckoned Clint forward again, taking him by the shoulders as he came closer.

"I would never ask someone to do something that I could not do myself. I will do it," His voice broke and he averted his eyes. "Bring me a knife,"

Hank, who had finished coughing, was pulling at his ropes. He began to scream.

"Kill me, kill me! Please, just kill me!" His body convulsed; the poison was taking over. "They're here! They did this! It was them! Kill me, kill me before they do!" His voice was ragged and exhaustive. The echoing of it caused Alby to flinch. His cries would be carried out into the Glade. He looked back to Clint, his eyes unfocused.

"Get me a knife,"

The Med Jack nodded and Alby kneeled beside Hank, trying to calm him. Hank only continued to scream.

"Kill me! Kill me! Please, kill me!"

Clint reappeared, weeping as he handed Alby his knife. Jeff looked back through his fingers, tears streaming down his face. Alby took a deep breath, holding the knife, frozen, in his hand. Hank grasped for it, his eyes wide and deathly black.

"Yes! Kill me! Please, Alby! You must!"

Alby closed his eyes, his whole body fighting against his arm as he raised it over Hank. He gripped the handle of the knife, squeezing his eyes shut. Hank continued to sob, the echoes getting louder and louder and soon Alby could not hold it back. He cried out, pained and ashamed. His own scream mingled with those of Hank until finally, he plunged the knife down. Straight into Hank's heart, a sickening squish following the impact.

The boy screeched, an unearthly, unnatural strangled cry. Alby turned his head away, sobbing as he pulled the knife away. His hand was covered in blood now. The Runner shivered and squirmed, breathing heavily. Fresh, red blood was beginning to seep out of the wound, turning brown against the black sludge. Clint turned his face away as Hank gave his final cry, stopped shaking and lay still. The life in his eyes dwindled into dull black nothingness.

Silence.

They sat for some time.

Hank lay dead on the table, the black veins receding into a dark blue, cyan and finally, white. The life drained from his body and his vacant eyes stared into nothing. Alby leaned his forehead on the sickbed, tears stinging his face. Clint could not look back, his body shaking and Jeff stepped forward to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, his own eyes swollen and red.

"It's what he wanted," Jeff's voice was muffled, full of tears. Alby looked up at them, sadness swallowing his speech. Jeff nodded to his leader and wiped his eyes. Alby looked back up at Hank. Slowly, he reached forward and closed Hank's eyes, his final courtesy. Jeff gave a shuddering sigh.

"We have to tell the others," He was trying to sound strong, but his voice was breaking.

The job seemed impossible and Alby could not bring himself to move for another long moment. He took one last look at Hank.

"Take the knife and clean it. Clean everything he touched," His voice was heavy as if the commands took away all his strength. "I will make the announcement to the Glader's and we will bury him… bury him in the woods,"

Jeff nodded and Clint finally looked up, his eyes averted from the figure on his table. The Keeper of the Med Jack's took the knife from Alby and the Glade leader stood up, shaking as he straightened himself. He stepped slowly out of the hut, coming face to face with the Glader's. Every last one of them stood as still as statues, in front of the hut, their work forgotten. Their eyes were fearful and they stood like frightened deer, ready to escape at a moment's notice.

Alby stepped fully into the Glade, the sun shining on his tear-stained face. He spoke to them what most already knew.

"Hank is dead. There was nothing more our Med Jack's could do. It was Hank's last wish that we ease his pain," Alby felt his voice clog in his throat and he turned away, wiping the stray tears off his cheeks. The pain and sorrow would soon be crowded with fear and confusion as he would decide what was to be the next course of action.

Was Hank's death the end of this game or was it only the beginning? What changes would this new component play in the Maze? Only time would tell.

Alby looked back up into the faces of his boys. A few had shed tears and turned their faces, others merely stood still, staring into the distance. Gally looked at the ground and Newt looked on, concern and fear mingled on his face.

Alby did the only thing he had the strength to do.

"We will bury him tonight. We will scratch his name off the Wall,"

Muted and dull agreement spread among the boys, overshadowed quickly by questions, doubts and fears.

"What will this mean for the rest of us?"

"Was Hank contagious, will the Med Jack's catch it?"

"Is the game over?"

"Are we going to die?"

Alby lifts his hands for silence. The questions that he could not answer were too much.

"Please! We must do all we can in the present. Time will tell us what we need to know. We must have patience!"

"How can we have patience when this change could be the last?" It was Gally's voice that interrupted the mournful silence and Alby closed his eyes. The defiant blonde was fearless except when it came to change. It seemed to plague him.

"We don't know anything Gally, we must do as we have always done. We must adapt and move on,"

Gally looked about to say more, but Newt shoved him and he closed his mouth. He would have more questions and Alby only hoped he could answer them all.

Hank's body was washed clean, all traces of blood and debris were wiped away. Jeff had worked on the limp body, while Clint sanitized everything.

Hank was wrapped in the tattered remains of his shirt and he was lifted lightly onto a wooden plank, his arms hanging off. Gally, Newt, Minho and Ben were called upon to carry the board. The boys, grim-faced, carried the Runner into the forest.

The Glader's followed close behind the slow-moving procession, each holding a stray branch of willow before them. They had never had a burial before and it was a new experience. One that they hoped never to see again. Alby walked just behind Hank, looking down at the still face of the dark-haired boy.

He looked peaceful; nothing like the raving lunatic that had come back from the Maze. The Maze that had ultimately claimed his life. The Griever had pumped poisonous death into his veins and it was not for the sake of trying that he lay here now, as white as snow. Alby looked forward as the boys walked through the trees.

He couldn't bear to look at the lifeless form any longer.

It was the beginning of the evening, the light was just starting to fade. The coolness of the night crept up through the earth. The darkness only dampened the mood as the Glader's glided through the trees, their procession ghostly in the beginnings of twilight.

Gally had found a spot near the back of the Dead Heads. Somewhere it would not be easy to stumble upon unless you knew the way. Just behind a large, oddly twisted tree was a small valley that dipped down to hit the Wall. Gally had chosen the very edge of the dip, underneath the leaves of the scraggly tree.

"His death was just as shucked up as this tree," was all he said when Alby questioned him on his choice. No more was said on the subject.

The boys set down the board slowly, allowing Hank to settle on the earth. A human-sized hole had been dug that afternoon by Gally and Winston. Hank was lifted, carefully so as not to let his head fall and placed into his resting place. The Glader's stepped up, silently, one by one to rest their willow branches on top of the Runner. Minho and Ben were among the last to approach. Minho knelt, tears running down his cheeks as he lay his willow on Hank's chest.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you," His voice choked and he stood up. Ben gripped his shoulder, holding back his own tears. The two Runners took a step back and Ably laid the last branch.

"You will forever be remembered for your bravery and the life you gave for your fellow Glader's. Rest in peace, Hank," Alby's voice was wispy and he didn't say anymore as he stepped back. Gally, Winston and Newt stepped forward, holding shoves. They began to cover the body with pile upon pile of upturned earth. The Glader's watched on in silence as Hank was buried. Bound to spend the rest of eternity underneath the ground, never knowing who he had truly been. Or why he had been sent to this hell.