The First Glader | The Maze Runner || Newt x OC

Chapter 8: Sassy Men Apocalypse

The next day marked eight months in the Maze. The morning unfolded with a familiar rhythm, the Gladers gathering in quiet ritual around the Box, holding their breath as Rowan and Alby prepared to open it.

With a sharp metallic grind, the Box split open, revealing three figures lying inside, dazed, sweaty, tangled among the supplies, with a small lamb hopping about in confusion. The blinding sun stirred the boys from their daze. As usual, Rowan and Alby stood over the Box in ceremony, waiting for the boys to regain their senses while the rest of the Gladers crowded around, peering down curiously.

"Three again," Newt said, flicking his gaze at Rowan. "We're getting lucky. Three chances for a new Runner."

"We keep getting men," Rowan muttered, the word dripping with exaggerated loathing and disdain. A few Gladers snorted; Newt grinned. Alby just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Before he could say more, one of the greenies groaned and stood up in one quick, solid motion. His dark hair clung to his forehead, tan skin glistening with sweat, and sharp eyes flicking around like he was already planning an escape route.

"If this is hell," he deadpanned, "it's smellier than I imagined."

Rowan blinked, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Oh, fantastic. We got ourselves a comedian."

The boy glanced up at her, unamused.
"Where are we?" His voice was clipped, confident, and raspy.

"The Glade," Alby answered, leaning over the edge and tossing a rope down.

"Glade?" he echoed. Beside him, another boy, dark-skinned, round-faced, and wide-eyed, let out a shaky smile before raising his hand weakly. "Uh... I think I'm gonna throw up."

Rowan offered him a hand. "There's a nice patch of grass right there. Have at it."

"Not in the Box," Newt added.

The tan boy had already pulled himself up, brushing off dust and throwing Rowan a look. "Love the hospitality. Do we get room service too, or just the grass special?"

The third boy climbed out last, tall, broad-shouldered, quieter than the rest. His expression was calm but observant.

The Gladers formed a loose circle around them while Newt grinned, sizing up the talkative greenie. "Bloody brilliant. We've been blessed with a shuckin' male version of Rowan."

Alby groaned. "No, please. I'll take the Grievers."

The Gladers burst into laughter while Rowan gaped at them in mock offense.

Finally, Sniff stepped forward, giving the usual welcome speech as the others drifted back to work.

Like every month since he arrived, Alby stayed behind to keep an eye on the new greenies. Newt and Rowan were off to the Maze, and as night approached, they returned before the walls closed, covered in dirt and laughter.

From across the Glade, the sharp-eyed boy watched them go, frowning. "You said we're not allowed near those walls," he called to Sniff. "So why are they walking out of there? What's in there?"

"Greenie, pay attention," Sniff sighed. "I said you'll understand better tomorrow."

The tall one finally spoke up. "But why?"

Sniff rubbed the back of his neck. "Well... apparently Rowan started it, the girl you just saw. She came here the same way you did, first one ever. It's a lot to take in, so we wait a day before we tell you about the-"

Before he could finish, Rowan appeared behind him and clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Greenies, don't be noisy," she said sweetly. "You'll find out when it's time."