The First SheBean II Newt - TMR

Chapter 8

"Shit..." I immediately started chasing after him as he led the way back to the Glade. 

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229.12.25 I 03.35 PM

I wasn't sure just how close we were cutting it as I sprinted after Minho through the corridors of the Maze.

To me they all looked the same, I could of sworn that we had run in circles at least seven times. But I just had to trust that Minho knew what he was doing and I hoped he would successfully lead us back to the Glade.

The fear of the possibility that we could be stuck out here for the night and have a fate like Fred was enough to keep the adrenaline pumping through my views with every step. I ignored the pain seeping out of the cracks between all my muscles. I'm sure I could endure a couple more hours of this torture if my survival depended on it.

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229.12.25 I 04.51 PM

I take that back. I'm starting to doubt how much more of this I can take. Since finding... Fred, we had to have been running for 3 hours minimum and Minho had not slowed his stride once. Although, we had no way of telling exactly when the doors are going to close.

Or how long we had left.

"How much further?" I panted.

"Two more minutes," Minho tried to throw an encouraging smile over his shoulder at me but it looked more like a grimace.

Bark was doing perfectly fine. He was the only one not struggling in the slightest. Half the time he was too far in front for me to see but he always circled back. I told myself he was checking I was still standing.

I've tried distracting myself with many different things - counting my steps, the corners, imagining what life would be like without the fucking Creators. But I still ended up with a deafening headache from the constant drilling of our feet against the concrete.

Soon it will be my fucking face if I have to do this for much longer.

"Minho it's been like 8 more minutes, where the fuck is the bloody Glade?" I shouted, I had began to fall behind.

But, just as the last syllable left my mouth, we turned the corner and I could see the Glade. I let out a sigh relief and the sight of the heavenly green fields.

"SHIT! CHARLIE, COME ON! RUN! DON'T LOOK BACK!" Minho suddenly started screaming.

Only now did I notice the fields getting smaller and smaller. FUCK! THE DOORS WERE CLOSING.

I was still a good solid twenty meters away. And I was all too aware that these next few moments could decide my fate entirely. 

I allowed myself a small sigh as I watched my best friend slip into the Glade from a far.

Tears and sweat drenched my face as I raced down the interminable corridor. 

15 meters. 80 centimeters.

My body ached more from an overwhelming production of adrenaline than physical pain. Everything seemed to slow down as I neared closer and closer to the doors. Watching the Glade get smaller and smaller.