▬The next morning, I sat with Newt, Thomas and Chuck at breakfast. Alby and Minho would've joined us but the two were going into the Maze on a special mission: Alby wanted to retrace Ben's footsteps from yesterday to find out how he got Stung in broad daylight and Minho would be helping him as he was the most experienced Runner in the Glade. Thomas, however, didn't seemed to have caught up to that fact yet.

"What's going on?" he asked, staring at Alby and Minho at the Maze doors. They stretched for a while, their backs arcing and muscled limbs taut with tension, then disappeared into the Maze.

Newt shrugged as he dug into his eggs. "Just seein' off Minho and Alby - Alby wants to retrace Ben's footsteps. And uh, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but apparently Minho found a dead buggin' Griever yesterday. They're going to have a look at that too."

"A dead Griever?" I echoed. "Wait - how come I don't know about this?"

Newt shrugged. "Alby didn't want to make a big deal about it. He didn't want to get everyone's hopes up too early. The only reason why I'm even telling you lot this at all is because I trust you."

"Hey," Chuck said. A small piece of bacon flew out of his mouth when he spoke. "I've got a question about that."

"Yeah, Chuckie?" Newt asked, somewhat sarcastically. "And what's your bloody question?"

Chuck seemed deep in thought. "Well, they found a dead Griever, right?"

"Yeah," Newt replied. "Thanks for that bit of news."

Chuck absently tapped his fork against the table for a few seconds. "Well, then who killed the stupid thing?"

I furrowed my eyebrows in uneasiness - it was an excellent question, but none of us had an answer to that. Though I had never actually seen one, I had heard countless stories and rumours about the monsters that roamed the Maze, about how spikes as sharp as knives protruded from the Griever's bulbous slimy bodies. They sounded terrifying enough to picture using my imagination alone; I couldn't imagine just how dangerous and deadly they were in real life. Whoever or whatever had managed to kill one of them must have been really powerful to do so.

After breakfast, Chuck trailed away to clean up the showers. I followed Newt in escorting Thomas to the Bloodhouse, where Winston was waiting, his skin already coated with sweat from the heat of the Glade. When we were sure he was in good hands, Newt and I turned away and walked elsewhere.

"Ya seem a lil' down in the dumps there," Newt observed as we walked to nowhere in particular.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "It's just... I can't help but think about yesterday's Banishment. I really don't like them. And it's... it's not just because of Kris - the idea of forcing someone out there in the Maze with the shucking Grievers - it's just sick."

Newt hung his head, staying quiet. We walked to nowhere in particular, watching and observing the other Gladers at work. The Builders were yet again engaged in arguments with each other as they tried to come to a conclusion to their discussion. The Slicers were dragging the animals in the farm to the Bloodhouse, their shirts and shoes stained crimson, Thomas right behind them as he tried to copy their actions. 

After a while, Newt said, "Thomas over there wants to be a Runner. Told him there's no chance of it - the council will have his head. I made him a deal though: I told him if he keeps his buggin' mouth shut I might add him to the list of potential trainees. He goes yappin' about it to everyone and he can kiss the job goodbye."

"Why does he want to be a Runner so bad?" I asked.

Newt shrugged. "Shuck if I know. The poor kid's been through a couple of wack days - I figured I'd cut him some slack."

Even though we both had jobs to attend to, we strayed away from the other Gladers and headed towards the Deadends. We sat under the cooling shade of the forest, chatting with each other in low voices as the wind tossled our hairs around. I could tell Newt was trying to lift up my spirits, and I loved him for that, but everytime I found myself chatting or joking around, the image of Ben would pop up in my head and the smile would melt off my face. 

Newt must have noticed as he frowned at me mid-conversation.

"What?" I said.

"Are you sure you're alright?" He asked. "You haven't been the same since the girl arrived."

I picked at the dark, dry grass beneath me. I didn't know how to express my worries and fears to Newt - about how Thomas' and the new girl's arrival seemed important somehow, like it was the beginning of something unpleasant.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. I stood up abruptly. "I'll go check up on Clint and Jeff. See ya later."

And I walked away, leaving him alone in the forest.

-

That evening, when the sky was beginning to darken and the first traces of dusk and night crept in, I found Newt sitting alone at a table in the kitchen, chewing not food but his fingernails. His eyes were tired and bloodshot and worry lines crossed his forehead, making him look older than he really was.

"Newt?" I said, sitting down next to him. "What's wrong?"

"They should be back by now," he whispered.

Oh.

I threw a glance at the Maze doors, where Alby and Minho had disappeared into earlier in the morning. Newt was right - they should've been back by now. What was taking them so long?

"I'm sure they're fine," I tried to reassure Newt, though worry still pricked at me. "Those two are tough. They'll make it."

Newt didn't say anything. He continued gnawing on his fingernails, eyes darting back and forth worriedly.

"What's wrong with him?" I heard Chuck whisper to Thomas a few tables away. "Looks like you did when you popped out of the Box."

"I don't know," Thomas replied. "Why don't you go ask him."

"I can hear every bloody word you guys are saying," Newt called in a loud voice. "No wonder people hate sleepin' next to you shanks."

"What is wrong with you?" Chuck asked. "No offense, but you look like klunk."

"Every lovin' thing in the universe," Newt replied, then fell silent as he stared off into space for a long moment. Thomas and Chuck glanced at me quizzically.

"Alby and Minho," I replied. "They should've come back hours ago."

Thomas and Chuck instinctively glanced over at the Maze doors, and they exchanged worried looks with each other, eyebrows knitted together in concern.

"Maybe they're just exploring and having fun," Chuck said. 

Newt shot him a look so harsh I was afraid Chuck might spontaneously combust.

"Why can't we just search for them?" Thomas asked.

"Out there? In the Maze?" Newt said, staring at Thomas with a horrified look. "What're you crazy, ya buggin' shank?"

"Are you... scared of the maze?" Thomas said hesitantly.

"That's none of your bloody business," Newt said curtly, and quickly looked away.

I felt a pang of sadness in me. Even after a year of of his leg incident Newt was still terrified of the Maze? 

I grasped his hand, trying to comfort him. He looked so upset that I felt horrible for not knowing how to help him. For the Keeper of the Med-jacks, I was pretty useless.

"Not only that," Newt continued in a quiet voice, "but search parties are forbidden when it comes to the Maze. More of us might get lost and we can't have that."

I rolled my eyes at the rule, and even Thomas didn't looked happy with that answer. But at least he was smart enough not to argue with Newt. 

That night, the Runners returned at their normal time, and by this time the tall blond was fully panicking now. He ran from door to door, checking into them, his eyes wide with worry and fear. But Alby and Minho never showed up.

I shared Newt's panic now; I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt nervously as I stood with him by one of the doors, trying not to think about why my two closest friends were still missing. Newt was pacing around one of the doors, running his hand through his hair, and he looked up as Thomas and Chuck approached us.

"Where are they?" he said, his voice thin and strained.

"Newt, they'll be fine," I said, though my rapid heartbeat betrayed my words. "Just wait a lil' longer. They'll come back."

The look Newt gave me next almost broke my heart. I knew how much he cared about Alby and Minho - and for goodness sake, I loved the two dearly too - but there were tears brimming in Newt's eyes as he looked up at me.

"They'll be fine, alright?" I repeated, my voice now a low whisper. "We just need to wait."

And so we waited. By this time, the other Gladers had joined us at the doors, glancing down the Maze corridor in confusion. News of Alby and Minho's strange absence must have spread around the Glade by now. 

"We can still search for them," I said weakly. "We stil have time."

"No, we don't," Newt whispered, his face downcast.

Another few long, agonising passed. Newt hung his head. He didn't say it aloud, but I knew what he was thinking; if Alby and Minho still hadn't returned yet then they were as good as dead.

Then a flicker of movement in the Maze caught my eyes.

Something stirred inside the Maze, down the long corridor in front of me - then two forms took shape, stumbling along the alley toward the Door. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"It's them!" I said, pointing. 

Newt's head shot up, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. The other Gladers pushed forward, trying to get a better look; when they realized I was right they were about to cheer when I noticed something was wrong.

Minho was stumbling forward, one of Alby's arms draped across his shoulders. He practically dragged the boy along behind him. Alby seemed to be unconscious as he made no effort to push himself upright or walk, his eyes closed shut, his limbs limp and heavy. The other Gladers shouted out words of encouragement to the Runner, but I already knew they weren't going to make it. They were too slow.

Alby had slipped out of Minho's clutches and fallen to the ground. Minho tried desperately to get him back on his feet, then, finally giving up, started to drag the boy across the stone floor by the arms.

They weren't going to make it.

"We have to help them!" Thomas said frantically beside me.

"No, you bloody know we can't!" Newt shot back. "Either they make it or they don't."

"Newt, we can't just let them die!" I said frantically. Minho and Alby were so close now - if the Doors could just slow down-

"No, Rose, I don't want any more of us to disappear!" Newt said sternly. "I won't have it, ya hear me?"

"You were just cryin' about Alby and Minho and now you're just going to feed them to the Grievers?" I cried out.

"I said - I don't blood want any more of us to die! It's too late, ya hear me?"

"No, there's still time!" Thomas argued, looking just as exasperated as I felt at Newt. "We can still help them!"

Newt clenched his jaw at the two of us. "No," he said firmly, his usually warm, soft eyes steely, though pain flickered through them. "I forbid it. Like I've said, either they make it or they don't. That's that."

"Well, I'm not gonna just stand here and watch them die," I said hotly, and before I could change my mind I rushed into the Maze towards my friends, determined to help them. I heard the other Gladers scream at me, heard their frantic words and shouts - but I couldn't just stand there while I watched my friends die. I just couldn't. Minho and Alby meant way too much to me.

I went to Alby's limp form on the ground and slung his arm onto my shoulders, supporting half his weight.

"Come on!" I shouted at Minho.

He stared at me incredulously, probably wondering how I could be so reckless, but he complied anyway, grabbing Alby's other arm. Together, we hobbled towards the doors, where our friends were gathered at. Newt was screaming at me so loudly and furiously that I feared he might be tearing apart his vocal cords.

A loud boom sounded from all directions, then came the crunching, grinding sound of stone against stone. The Doors were closing for the night.

Damnit. I thought we had more time!

"Shit, shit, come on, hurry!" I shouted to Minho.

"What do you think I'm doing?" He yelled back.

I felt Alby's arm slip from my grasp and I had to repositioned him again, practically dragging him behind me. Sweat had already formed on my head and my chest heaved with deep breaths, my lungs fighting for oxygen - but I still trudged on, determined not to leave my friends behind depsite the rapidly closing doors.

Just when they were about to shut, Thomas - the stupid shank - rushed forward. The other Gladers tried to pull him back, but it was too late - I watched as he slipped into the Maze and the doors shut for the night.

Minho slumped to the ground, dropping Alby.

"Good job," Minho said to Thomas, exhaustion lacing his every word. "You just killed yourself."

[ END OF CHAPTER EIGHTEEN ]

aaand boom. rosalind and thomas ran into the maze, dun dun dun! 

also wtf i just watched the next few episodes of teen wolf and HOLY SHIT CAN I MARRY STILES HE'S SO FUNNY AND CUTE AHA 

one last thing before i go - yes, i changed my username. it's now queendisco instead of slytherpuffpotato, and the reason why i changed it is because i found that i have been really disliking my old username. like "slytherpuffpotato"??? wtf was 12 year old me thinking?????? but yeah i hope this new username is better :)