When the new Greenie - Tanya - arrives in the Glade, things begin to get complicated when bodies start turning up in the Deadheads. With no way out of the Maze, the killer picks off the Gladers one by one. Can she catch the killer and protect her fr...
Pains burn throughout my muscles after I sprint across to the south-east corner of the glade. Gasping for air, I exasperatedly stubble towards a tightly compacted group of animal pens with some buildings behind them, presumably the 'slaughterhouse.' However, the pain in my legs takes the focus of my attention.
Piercing squeals erupt from the swine inside the fenced courtyard. A gathering of builders has pitched themselves by the fence, repairing it. The constant banging of hammers soon subsides as I approach the gladers.
"Sup fellas? Newt sent me, something about an injury?"
I breathlessly remark, before Gally abruptly appears from behind one of the surrounding rooms. His aggressive stance and piercing gaze make me hesitant to ask. In a husky voice, he replies, "This way, Greenie."
Indistinct chattering protrudes from the builders as they proceed to hammer at the fence. Following Gally, we approach a toned builder, seated on a wooden stump beside one of the buildings.
He looks to be no more than seventeen or so. He has rough skin and an olive complexion, along with smooth chestnut hair. I'm soon drawn to a slight graze on his left arm; I hope this isn't what Newt was talking about when he said he had a job for me.
"C'mon shank, patch him up!"
Gally's stern voice confirms my theory, as I reply sheepishly, "But it...it's a graze!" He wrinkles his immensely huge eyebrows in confusion while scratching his forehead, "No Greenie, it's not a graze. Look at it, there's blood, which makes it a cut, shank."
Shaking my head in disagreement, I respond, "No Gally, it is most certainly not a cut! Do you really think tha..." Before I can continue, the 'injured' glader talks in a gruff voice, "Are you two gonna argue all day or patch me up?"
Huffing in annoyance, I roll my eyes and open the medical pouch Jeff gave me that's attached to my belt. In it belongs some pieces of cloth and a small bottle of alcohol, purely for medical reasons, or so I'm told... Pulling free one of the rolls of cloth, I snatch it from the bag and go over to patch him up.
A minuscule trickle of blood rolls down the veins bursting from his forearm. The graze itself barely penetrates the skin, only annoying me further. I messily slop the cloth over the cut and wrap it around his arm. Intentionally, I squeeze the bandage tightly, causing the teen to wince as a slight chuckle escapes my lips. Tying it off, I look back up at Gally, and sarcastically reply, "Happy now?"
Promptly, another builder struts over from the animal pen and begins to speak, "Uh, Gally, um..." A glint of anger hangs over Gally's face as he shouts back, "Spit it out shank!" The timid guy responds in a hesitant tone, "W..we need more wood..."
Fumbling around, I butt into the conversation, "What's so bad about that?" A look of fear crosses his face as he continues, "We've heard, uh, the rumours, about some--something out there, killin' us off... I ain't going out there."
"I'll go."
Gally immediately protests, "Look shank, last time you were there..."
I abruptly interrupt him, "Gally, I'm just getting some wood, I'll be back in no time." Before he can interject, I head off towards the deadheads.
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Overhanging branches loom above the forest floor, causing a dense atmosphere. Flecks of light break through the adjoining leaves, just enough to make out my surroundings. The faint sound of birds chirping disrupts the dreary silence as the dead leaves crunch beneath my feet. Faint screams from foxes echo throughout the forest, only adding to my suspense.
Swiftly, I approach the place I landed on the last time I was here, the graveyard. I pang of sorrow hits me at the sight of it. At least ten wooden posts mark the death of a glader, each engraved with a name. What happened here? Does it have anything to do with the other deaths? Questions bustle throughout my mind. Ambling across, I look for anything that might be important in my investigation.
George. That's the name I saw last time. This place must be significant to whoever the killer is...
A loud snap, like a branch breaking, echos across the deadheads. Someone else is here. A lump rises in my throat as I fight the instinct to scream. Fear clouds my mind at the thought of what might happen. Clenching my fists, I turn to see who is there.
"What are you doin' here Tanya?"
Gally's voice emerges from the dark figure hiding in the trees, "I could ask you the same question!" I respond, with a hint of anger. Walking into the light, he continues, "Look Greenie, I wasn't gonna have you running off into the deadheads by yourself! Us shanks look out for each other, like it or not."
Frustrated, I huff in annoyance, "You could've said so, instead of scaring me half to death!" A look of bewilderment blooms over his face at my sudden outburst, his eyes bulging in surprise. Before he can answer, I continue, "And I was looking for clues about the killings before you ask, again."
"That's not your job, Greenie, you could get hurt. Besides, getting wood's more important." He says, crossing his arms as he towers above me.
"Tanya?" a distant voice bounces across the deadheads, Minho's voice.
