23 - Death wish

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"Are you watching, Thomas?" Clara asked, startling the boy, and pulling him out of his thoughts. It was his trial day with the med-jacks and Clara was showing him how to do the basic stuff. One of the slicers, Andy, got a nasty cut on his arm and she was using him to show Thomas how to do stitches, but he wasn't focusing, he kept looking around like he was daydreaming, and it was starting to irritate her.

"Tommy, focus!" Newt shouted from the other medical bed, which he was relaxing on, he knew how short Clara's temper was and he'd noticed that Thomas was getting on her nerves.

"Sorry, sorry." He mumbled, "It's just, why would Alby go into the maze. I mean he's not- he's not a runner." He'd obviously seen Alby and Minho go into the maze that morning and he wasn't going to let it go.

"Things are different now, Alby went to retrace Ben's footsteps before sundown. Okay? Now, are you gonna listen to her?" Newt said, sitting up and leaning on his elbows, looking at Thomas,

"What so he's gonna back to where Ben was just stung wh-"

"Look greenie, Alby knows what he's doing alright? Now focus." Clara snapped at Thomas, her patience with him wearing thin. Thomas didn't answer that time, sitting down next to Clara he watched as she stitched the cut closed on Andy's arm. She gave Thomas the bandage and instructed him on how to put it on, making sure he did it properly, before sending the slicer on his way. 

"Not too bad greenie." She said and he smiled up at her. Clara heard a rumble of thunder in the distance, and she looked out the window, seeing dark clouds forming over the glade.

By the time the trio had joined the rest of the Gladers near the hammocks the rain had started pouring down. She sat in front of Frypan, leaning her head back on his legs as everyone watched the maze doors, waiting for Alby and Minho to come running out at any second. Clara's anxiety was growing with every passing second and she checked her watch again, knowing the doors were going to close soon.

"They should've been back by now Newt." She said, looking at the boy. His eyes were glued to the doors as well, and he didn't move them as he answered,

"They're gonna make it."

"What happens if they don't?" Thomas asked, stepping towards them. Newt turned his head to face the greenie, a blank look on his face.

"They're gonna make it."

After a few minutes, the rain had stopped, Newt helped Clara to her feet, and they jogged towards the maze doors with the rest of the Gladers close behind them. They all stood in front of the doors, waiting in anticipation for their leader and the keeper of the runners to return, but nothing was happening.

"Can't we send somebody after them." Thomas asked, clearly stressed about the whole situation

"It's against the rules." Clara said back, she reached down and wrapped her pinky around Newt's, squeezing it tightly and trying desperately to calm her nerves.

"Either they make it back or they don't" Gally piped up, he was crouching on the ground next to Thomas, fiddling with a small stone on the floor.

"We can't risk losing anyone else." Newt whispered, looking at Thomas as the loud rumbling sounded throughout the maze and the familiar wind blew past them, indicating that the doors were about to close. The gears started grinding and the giant stone walls began to move closer to one another, Clara was about to lose all hope when Thomas shouted,

"There!" He pointed at the main passage where a figure appeared,

"Wait, no something's wrong." Newt said, and Clara squinted at the figure trying to figure out what was going on. She realized quickly that Minho was stumbling about, carrying Alby on his back and she felt her heart skip a beat, something had happened to Alby.

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"Come on Minho! You can do it!" Chuck shouted, triggering all the boys to start shouting, trying to encourage Minho as much as possible but he stumbled, dropping Alby's body to the floor, and grabbing one of his legs, trying desperately to pull him towards the glade.

"They're not gonna make it." Newt said, turning to Clara. She had that same look in her eyes, a look of determination, a look of recklessness, of deviance. She gasped as Thomas suddenly jumped forward, he was going through the doors. Memories flashed through Clara's mind of the grievers and of Freddy, images circling around her head, haunting her. She turned to Newt, unhooking their pinkies, and looking him dead in the eyes,

"Sorry Newt." She said before jumping after Thomas and sprinting through the doors,

"CLARA!" Newt shouted as she reached the end of the doors, turning sideways she squeezed through them just before they closed, cutting off the shouts of the Gladers. She stumbled forward and she heard Minho speaking.

"Good job. You just killed yourself."

"What?" Thomas breathed, pushing himself off the ground where he was currently lying and standing on his feet,

"And you, Clara? Really? Newt's gonna kill you."

"I thought you said we just killed ourselves."

"You're making jokes? Now?"

"It's a defense mechanism, Minho. What happened to Alby?" She asked, moving towards the boy, and kneeling next to him, noticing a bruise on his forehead.

"What do you think? He got stung."

"And his head?"

"I did what I had to."

A loud screech sounded through the maze, making Clara's blood run cold and the hairs on the back of her head stood up as she recognized the familiar scream of the grievers. Their horrifying clicks and groans echoed off the walls in the distance and she stood up quickly as Minho started walking away.

"We gotta go, the maze is already changing." He said, walking towards the end of the passage.

"Minho we can't just leave him here." Thomas said, and for the first time since he came up in the box, Clara found herself agreeing with the boy.

"He's right Minho." The keeper stared at her before huffing and walking back towards him. He and Thomas lifted Alby off the floor as Clara searched for a place for them to hide. They stumbled around the corridors, their heavy breathing bouncing off the walls, filling the otherwise silent spaces in the maze. After a few minutes Thomas and Minho had to stop for a break, setting Alby up against the wall and she realized they probably couldn't carry him for much longer without bumping into a griever, a screech in the distance confirming her thoughts.

"This isn't going to work." She breathed out as Minho began to panic,

"We gotta go. We gotta go now!"

"Wait wait wait, what are you talking about? We gotta hide him" Thomas said, gesturing to Alby

"Where?" The keeper responded,

"I don't know but are you telling me that – that there's not a single place we can hide him?"

Suddenly Minho grabbed Thomas's collar, slamming him against the wall before speaking in a low voice,

"Listen to me shuckface, alright. Take a look around, there's nowhere to go!"

Clara stepped forward, pulling Minho off the other boy, but he shook her off, standing up straight.

"He doesn't get it, Clara." He shouted at her before turning back to Thomas. "You don't get it, we're already dead."

But Thomas didn't respond, he looked straight past Minho, his eyes focused on the ivy-covered wall behind the keeper. He stood up slowly, walking towards it and craning his neck upwards before turning to face Minho and Clara.

"I have an idea. Grab him."

The three of them lifted Alby's body, moving it to the wall Thomas was looking at before he grabbed some ivy and wrapped it around the boy's body, making a harness out of it. He secured it tightly around him before he grabbed another piece, pulling it and smiling when Alby's body lifted off the ground slightly. The other two joined Thomas, pulling the ivy with all their strength, lifting their leader's body higher and higher up the wall, grunting with effort. Suddenly Minho stopped tugging and turned his head to the right, he saw a flicker of movement at the end of the passage. Clara turned around to see why he stopped, and she noticed him looking at something in the distance, when she moved her eyes to where he was staring, she felt her heart jump into her throat.

A griever was standing at the end of the passage, and it started moving directly toward them.

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