Murder In The Maze (Maze Runner Fanfiction)

Chapter 12: Interrogation

     Heaving for breaths, I soon arrive outside the Blood House.  The adrenaline that was pumping through me not so long ago drains from my body.  From the outside, it just seems like every other building; rugged sticks that could blow over at any given moment, gaps through the wood, and over-grown grass flourishing up the surface.  

     "Here goes..."  I mutter to myself, pressing my hand against the door.  The imminent stench of animals covers the room as I enter, causing me to pinch my nose.  Haunted screams of pigs sound throughout the building, sending a sharp chill down my spine.  

     Animals scuttle in fenced pens lining the interior of the walls.  Another door lies at the end of the large room, slightly open.  Hesitantly, I start creeping towards it, bits of hay and straw crunching beneath my feet.  I reach for the next door, a hint of faded sunlight escaping through one of the splits in the wood.  

     I push it open, nausea wrenches my stomach almost as soon as I walk in.  Bodies of dead pigs hang down from the roof, blood dripping down the lifeless swine.  Different organs lie scattered across metal tables beneath them, blood-drenched tools arranged over it.  Instinctively, I place my hand over my mouth, trying not to puke.

"What are you doing?"

     A low, stern voice emerges from behind me.  Cocking my head around, an unfamiliar face stares back at me.  He looks about my age, maybe seventeen or so, a slight build.  Smooth black hair falls over his forehead, stern brown eyes boring into me.  He has a hooked nose and dark olive skin.  

     Spattered blood lies sprayed over his dirty shirt, presumably he must be a slicer.  A white glow radiates off a new bandage on his arm.

     "You must be Winston, right?"  I ask, still trying to recompose myself.  The boy continues towards one of the tables, picking up a large knife, traces of dried blood still on the blade, "Why do you wanna know?"

     A skinned corpse rests on the table in front of him, drained of any color.  Winston drives the knife into it, slicing and sawing a horizontal line.  I wince, squeezing my eyes shut for a second before continuing, "I-uh--just wanted to ask you some questions."

     "Go on."  He says, grunting as he pushes the knife across.  "Why were you in the greenhouse?"

     Winston furrows his brows, momentarily glancing up from the pig, "How do you know I was?"  

     "You cut yourself, earlier this week.  I found blood on a table in the greenhouse, and, seeing as Gally had just finished fixing it, it must have been fresh."  I respond, folding my arms.

     He tightens his jaw, plunging the knife deeper into the carcass, the metal squishing against its insides, "What's it to you?"

     I immediately shift my eyes away, resisting the urge to hurl my guts out, "J-just looking into something."  Winston pauses for a second, "If this is about dem dead shanks--"

     His eyes set with a sudden realization, anger fuming behind them, "You think I had something to do with that?!"

     "I never said that."  I say, only making him more frustrated, "You've got it all wrong, I didn't--I could never kill anyone."  

     The metal table clashes with the knife as he casts it onto the surface, "I didn't kill Wyck, or anyone else, alrigh'?  You done?"

     Winston stares back down at the pig, not expecting an answer.  "Fine..."  I mumble, going back out through the door.  

     I walk into the first room, the door to the Glade wide open, sunlight bursting in through the crack.  Heading towards it,I exit through the door

     I shield my eyes from the bright light beaming down on me with my elbow, walking out of the Blood House.  Squinting, I spot Gally, hammering something over at the animal pens.

"Gally!"

     I shout, lightly jogging over.  Sweat drenches his rugged clothes as he pounds at one of the fences.  "Hey, Greenie."  A faint smile rises from the corners of his mouth

     "What's that, on your face?!"  I remark sarcastically, peering at him.  Gally creases his brow, wiping his sleeve against his forehead, "What?!"

     "Is that a smile?  Pretty sure that's a smile."  I sneer, a sly grin riddling my face.  He pouts his lips, giving me an eye roll.  

     Smirking, I continue, "So how long am I going to be a 'greenie' for anyway?"

     "Until another shank come up in the box."  He responds, grabbing another nail from off the ground.  "When does that happen?"  I ask, sitting down on the grass beside him.

     "Today should be."  He says in a monotone voice, raising his hammer.  I shoot up, "What do you mean?"  Gally begins hammering, stopping for a minute, "Today, Greenie."

     A loud alarm ricochets off the Maze walls, sounding in my ears.  "Should be it now,"  Gally shouts, barely audible over the sound.  Turning towards the elevator, I dash towards it.

     Crowds of Gladers encircle the closed steel doors, eagerly awaiting the new arrival.  The creaking of metal against metal can vaguely be heard amongst the murmurs from the others.  Newt and Alby trudge through the crowd, leaning over the doors.  

     With a loud thud, the elevator screeches to a halt.  Two of the Gladers reach for the doors, prying them open.  The dark hole immediately lights up, a small boy curled up in the center.

     An immense swell of pity fills me, someone else doomed to the Maze.  The boy looks to be quite young, maybe thirteen or so, pudgy, with brown curly hair.  Fear rises across his face as Alby jumps into the box, reaching out his hand, "Welcome to the Glade."