Quiet is Violent {Newt | The Maze Runner}

2. Here or There

One year ago, she survived a night in the maze. Tasha was running with Minho that day, Newt having begun to settle into his job as second in command within the glade, under Alby. It became very apparent to Minho that Newt wasn’t kidding about Tasha being fast enough to take him on, as he had lost her after the first few hours, through the twists and turn, running through the maze until he just couldn’t keep up with her anymore - or maybe she had lost him a couple of turns back, he wasn’t certain. The sun had sunk low in the sky, a red glow gliding over Minho as he slowly made his way back to the entrance of the maze, retracing his steps.

His own footsteps echoed as he walked across the cement, a path he had walked many times in his three years of being a Runner. Every so often, when he pause for breath, when he stopped calling her name and listened, he could hear faint footsteps in the distance, the faint pant of breath coming from somewhere just out of range. He could never be sure if it was her around the next corner, or the echo of his own travels. He just called her name again.

Minho had only been by the doors for around ten minutes, having waited until the final possible moment to go back incase Tasha was looking for him. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if she didn’t turn up, about himself or about Newt or about any of the Gladers, (losing someone was always hard on them), but he didn’t want to think about that. He made it back to the entrance, hovering about it, waiting and trying not to arouse the suspicions of the other Gladers (mainly Newt). However, he was fairly successful in the last respect, with Newt buzzing awkwardly about Minho as they waited.

“I’m going to look for her.” Minho said, his face serious. Newt was torn between ‘No! The doors are about to close!’ and ‘Please, go find her!’ However, it seems his decision was made for him, as they spotted Tasha coming around the end of the corridor as the doors began to grind shut. She was limping, her weight off of her left leg for the most part, teeth gritted in determination as she saw him run towards her.

“Run, Minho.” She snapped, the doors were less than a metre away from Minho’s sides; he hesitated, trying not to let Newt hear her words in case neither of the runners made it. The usually quiet Tasha sped up, as if she was forcing herself to distribute her weight evenly on both legs, lowering her shoulders in a position reminiscent of a bull, head down, right shoulder leading charging at its target. “I said run, you slinthead.” She barked at the impact, so only he heard. Minho bouncing back as the doors grazed his elbows, stumbling onto the grass of the glade, he had made it from the maze out of pure shock and Tasha hobbled backwards, her limp once again remembered, to her closest safety from not being squished by the giant, stone doors - back into the Maze.

“Tasha!” Newt was beside Minho in an instant, hand reaching through the quickly narrowing gap trying to reach her, watching as she struggled to squirm back before the doors closed and she was trapped in there. Minho yanked Newt’s hand back and Tasha’s dark eyes were wide as she saw him standing there, tugged away by a distraught Minho, unable to go forward and pull her through.

“Sorry.” She managed, and Newt was silent, his tongue heavy in his mouth, unable to even say goodbye. The doors closed with a low thud and the runner and former runner stood side-by-side. They sat together for hours, backs pressed against the wall, listening to the quiet noises of the glade, wondering if Tasha would scream like the others who were locked in there did. She didn’t make a lot of noise often, maybe she’s die how she lived; quietly. Whatever the case may be, it wouldn’t be long until the grievers came out of the woodworks, from wherever they appeared from every night, to change her and chew her up. Maybe she’d survive but come out stung and twisted. Maybe they’d find her body tomorrow.

“She’s fast.” Minho said, his voice low. Newt knows he’s beating himself up over it, know that Minho thinks if he hand just gone in there and stayed with her, this wouldn’t have happened. Minho’s not certain what he’s trying to say, or whether he wants to just get rid of the morbid silence around them, either way, he finishes his sentence with a hint of uncertainty. He’s not doubting her speed, he’s doubting its usefulness.