Good Grief (TMR fic)

Chapter 11

Everyone is surrounding the Box, and murmurs accent the tension. I'm certain that this isn't the normal atmosphere when Greenies are arriving.

"How long does it normally take before they get here?" I ask Newt as he pushes through the Gladers towards Alby. I follow on his heels in the path he's creating.

"Half an hour or so," he tells me.

"Newt." The leader is clenching his jaw as he stares at the gaping Box Hole. "Everything has gone upside-down."

"I know. Do you think we'll be getting them every day, now?"

"I hope not. That would be a lot of Greenies to deal with. They'd all get themselves killed or mutiny or something stupid like that. We can't even count on it just being one boy, after yesterday."

Newt chuckles. "Just imagine. We could have a whole pack of them stuffed in there."

Alby catches sight of me, and his frown deepens. "Ash. Do you remember anything?"

He suspects me, thinks I'm a trick. I don't blame him. I sigh and run my hand through my hair. "I swear I don't. I'm sorry everything's all screwy."

He seems to believe me. I guess I've won his trust, at least to an extent.

Newt gives me a tense smile. "Go talk to Tommy, okay?" Then he shoves me gently towards Thomas, who is talking with Chuck a short distance away.

"I feel like a kid getting sent out of the room while the adults have grown-up conversations," I whine, and Newt rolls his eyes as he turns back to Alby.

"Hey, Ash," Chuck says as I reach them. "Thomas is operating under the delusion that he can think of a possible way out of here in less than a day that we haven't tried in two years."

I laugh a little. It's such a Thomas thing to do.

"Just don't try the Box Hole," I say.

His eyes light with curiosity."Why not?"

"The only kid who tried got cut in half," Chuck whispers dramatically.

"They have his top half in a box in the Deadheads," I finish.

Thomas stares at us both as if he's trying to decide whether or not to believe us.

"What's that building?" Thomas asks.

"That's the Maproom," I say. "Didn't Alby give you the Tour?"

"He didn't get to finish, and it mostly consisted of him telling me to shut up."

I snicker. "I don't blame him."

Thomas rolls his eyes. "Maproom, though? Like, for the Maze?"

"No, for the Homestead so Greenies don't get lost," I fire back. "Of course for the Maze, slinthead." I imagine what the Maproom must be like, and I can feel the dreamy look cross my face. "Man, I want to go in there."

"You and me both," Thomas says, and we share a smile.

We're going to be Runners, I just know it.

"If Gladers have been here for two years," I say, turning to Chuck, "then how long have they been searching the Maze?"

He shrugs. "From what I know, they started exploring short distances within the first month, and had Runners going all day within a few more months."

My face falls as my hopes crumble. Well over a year of searching. No exit found.

"That's not good," I mutter.

"Hey." Thomas elbows me in the side. "There's always going to be something new to try. I'm your unbearably cheerful optimist, and I'm unbearably optimistic that we can cheerfully find something that no one has thought of before. We'll get out, I promise. No one would make a Maze that doesn't have an exit."

"I hope you're right," I say.

He hugs me. I wrinkle my nose at the unexpected physical contact, but I let him.

"I promise I'll get you out. Both of you," he says, looking to me and then to Chuck.

"That's nice, but don't you want to look at the Greenie?" Chuck motions to the Box Hole. The Box has just arrived.

Alby and Newt each grab half of the top, sliding them apart at the exact same moment.

Everyone crowds closer, and I try to push through them enough to see. Newt and Alby stare into the darkness, and I can see Newt clenching his jaw thoughtfully.

"It's a girl," he says, and the Gladers stop pushing as much. "That's not the half of it, though."

Everyone looks at him expectantly, and Alby frowns into the Box.

"She seems to be dead."