Good Grief (TMR fic)

Chapter 57

"How was-"

I cut Newt off before he can finish asking. "Nothing. We found nothing."

He nods, looking disappointed. "There's still hope."

I sigh. "Can you stop? Just for now? I'm tired and hungry and there wasn't anything out there. The walls aren't even properly moving anymore, just shifting enough to switch up where the Cliff is."

"I'm sorry," he says, taking my hand as I walk towards the kitchen. "We'll get out of here, though. We have to, so we will. Besides, you and Thomas are different. You'll figure it out."

"I hope you're right," I answer, already preoccupied again with what I feel like I'm figuring out. It's something to do with the route the Grievers took to and from the Glade.

"See? Hope."

I glare at him. "Newt? You have five seconds to run. Or, should I say, limp."

He laughs and tugs on my braid before heading to the Homestead. I can't help but grin as I watch him go. He does make me feel better.

Now, why did the Grievers take a different route when they were coming back-

"Ash!" Thomas comes running up to me eagerly. "Ash, I think I know how we're supposed to get out. It's a code!"

"What?" I say, frowning at him.

"When Teresa woke up, she told me the Maze is a code. I think I know how it works. Minho and Newt saved the Maps, so we can figure it out! Can you go get-"

His voice is cut off by Alby. "Ash!"

I'm dying for the information he has. They finally told him the Maps were saved, but what did he realize?

"Sorry, Thomas," I say. "Alby's calling. I have to go." I give him a regretful glance. If he's figuring out the Maps...

"That's fine," Thomas says with an understanding nod. "I'll get Minho and Newt." We grin at each other for a moment, hope rekindled in our eyes.

"Good luck, Thomas."

"Thanks."

Then he runs off, and I go check in with Alby and help him assign rooms to each of the Gladers for the night. As I work, my mind is constantly drawn to Thomas, to the fact that he thinks he can figure out the code of the Maze.

By the time it's noon according to my watch, I head into the Deadheads for a nap. I could go check on Thomas, but they're probably still trying to decipher the code, and I don't want to interact with Teresa. Something about her feels off.

When I wake up from several hours of sleep, the first thing I notice is Newt's limbs tangled with mine. Him and his stupid habit of sleeping like an octopus. I smile slightly at the comparison. Why is he here?

I shift slightly, and he wakes up, blinking blearily.

"Hi Ash," he says, his voice rough from sleep.

I smile a little and stare up at the trees above us, their leaves looking slightly pale from lack of sunlight, although that could be my imagination.

"Do you want to hear what we figured out with the Maps?"

"Yes!" I'm excited again, waking up fully. "Did Thomas's idea work?"

"It did. If you layer the sections from a single day on top of each other, there's a letter in the center."

I pause, thinking about it, and then groan. "Of course. That's so obvious. Why didn't I think of that? That's why the centers of each section are in repeating patterns, even if the rest is randomized. That... that makes so much sense."

He giggles, and I give him a confused glance. I've never heard him make that sound before. He blushes at my look, but doesn't stop grinning. That's when I understand. He's happy. For the first time in a long, long time, he's actually happy.

"We're getting out of here," I say, mostly to myself. "What do the letters spell?"

"That's the thing," Newt says, shrugging. "We have six words and a clear order, but they don't make much sense. I'm not worried, though. Thomas knows the answers, somewhere in that brain of his. He'll figure it out."

"Wait, so we know a sequence of words, but we don't know what to do with them?" I ask, trying to understand.

"Yep. The words are float, catch, bleed, death, stiff, and push."

Okay, I understand what he meant by them not making much sense. I frown in confusion.

"What are we even supposed to float on? There aren't bodies of water in the Glade or the Maze."

Newt laughs again. "I'm mildly concerned that you're focused on how we're supposed to float, and not on the fact that three words later we're supposed to die."

"Touché."