In The Maze

Chapter twenty-five (Newt)

"Its underside, Newt! Their bellies aren't protected!"

Tommy, the selfless idiot, came sprinting towards us, a spear in one hand and a lit torch in the other. When the griever tried to crush me again, he threw the spear which got lodged in the griever's neck. The monster roared and bellowed so loudly it echoed through the entire Glade. With a grunt, I stumbled to my feet and yanked the spear out, ducked underneath the griever, then stabbed it into its underside. Ignoring my stinging arm, I used all of my strength to push the blade deep into its body.

It released a roar full of anguish and tumbled backward. That gave me time to properly catch my breath and for Tommy to reach me. He stabilized me without needing to be prompted which I greatly appreciated.

"That thing is nasty."

"You said it, mate." I probably shouldn't have laughed, but I did. I was covered in dirt and a mixture of my blood and the griever's.

Then I realized something. The griever's blood shimmered when the firelight of the torch hit it. It resembled motor oil or some other black, chemical fluid. The griever was part machine and manmade, so it likely needed oil or gas along with organic blood to function properly. Meaning the blood-oil concoction circulated throughout its body and poured from the wounds I'd inflicted.

Most oils are highly combustible. We have fire. I can light this bloody freak up!

I pushed him to the right while I veered to the left. The griever stopped shrieking and came charging toward us, limping and trembling from the damage I had inflicted. "Tommy! When I say, throw the torch at it!"

He nodded and prepared to throw the flaming object. "Got it!"

"Hey!" I waved my hands in the air, grabbing the beast's attention. "Come an' get me, ya ugly, shuckfaced-freak!" As I'd planned, the griever barreled toward me without a glance towards the other glader. Twenty-five feet, twenty feet, fifteen feet, ten feet, "Now!"

The torch sailed through the air before hitting its target spot-on. The black sludge ignited instantly and within seconds the whole griever was ablaze. It shrieked and flailed around in a futile attempt to douse the fire. I tackled my friend to the ground when the exposed wiring exploded from the heat, shooting sparks and flames in all directions. With one last pitiful cry, the griever collapsed and went still.

On shaky legs, we got to our feet, mesmerized by the dancing tendrils of fire reaching toward the darkening sky. Odd how such a beautiful sight could come from something so evil.

"Are ya okay? Tommy?" The bloody shank stood there, staring at me with his mouth open like a fish. Aside from being rather dirty and sweaty, he seemed to be okay. My leg ached somewhat and my arm burned, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle, so I elected to ignore it. "Tommy!"

"Huh?"

"Are ya okay?"

"Oh." He blinked himself back into focus and then nodded. "I mean, physically, yeah. Emotionally, I'm terrified."

I clapped him on the back, grateful no one had been killed. "Like Alby used to say, 'if you ain't scared you ain't human'. Now, c'mon." We jogged over to where Minho and (Y/N) were, not far from the village but too close to the griever for comfort. They didn't get very far before (Y/N) lost consciousness.

"Holy shuck, man!" Minho gaped at me. "You just did that. You just killed that thing!" I couldn't be sure if he was impressed or appalled. Probably both. Regardless, I took it as a compliment.

"You okay?" He appeared to be in the same state as Tommy. Shaken but unharmed. I checked (Y/N)'s pulse and patted her down for any other injuries that might have been hidden under her clothes. Finding none, I sighed in relief. Her skin was flushed and clammy. But her breathing was steady and the blood around the injury had already started to clot; both were good signs.