The first thing Trace did when she woke up was laugh. She was halfway through being pulled up the maze wall, tied down with ivy around all four limbs.
"Trace?" Thomas asked from below her, his voice strained with the effort.
"Yeah, actually. Um. Hi. Hello. This is a bit awkward, isn't it?"
Alby was suspended a few metres above her, to her left. Thomas must've prioritised him. Rude.
"Yeah, sorry. I didn't know what to do. I was planning on joining you in a minute," he explained.
Ah, Trace thought to herself. The book plan. Thomas was going to tie himself up there too. She'd finally get to hang out with him.
"Where's Minho?" she asked, scrambling further up the wall and allowing Thomas to tie her up at the same level as Alby.
"He ran."
"That shank is far too dedicated to his job."
"Tell me about it."
By the time Thomas had tied himself level to Trace and Alby, a loud squeal echoed through the corridors of the maze. Not a roar. Not a groan. A squeal.
"Oh, no," she whispered. "Book Grievers."
She guessed she was going to have to learn to roll with the punches then.
Thomas was preoccupied, staring at a Beetle Blade that had taken residence merely a metre from his face. It was only through that moment that Trace remembered; the book plan didn't work out too well. In fact, there was no escaping the book Grievers. They knew your whereabouts at all times. Trace wanted to cry.
But, Thomas was there and Thomas remained silent, waiting. She couldn't let him down. If she let Thomas down, she let everyone down.
So she didn't cry. She remained silent.
And the first Griever came around the corner. Huge, slimy, bulbous — it made its way down the corridor, screeching and squealing as it travelled. It was gross. Really gross. A little bit absolutely petrifying too. There was no missing the sharp, metallic protrusions extending from its body, or the weird glowing light that it emitted.
Then it rolled, tucking in the appendages and travelling with frightening speed along the maze floor. It stopped, crawled a little, then rolled again, continuing this pattern until it was right below the two frightened teenagers, trying to remain inconspicuous in the ivy above.
Trace knew what happened next, and she wanted to run now. How would she wriggle out of the vines in time? She wasn't as limber or strong as Thomas; there was no way she'd be able to escape the Griever once it started climbing.
Then she remembered one thing. One very, life-threateningly, important thing.
The off-switch.
They'd only used it once in the books: when they reentered the maze. They'd only used it when fighting the Grievers for the second time. During The Death Cure. Only then did that traitorous Teresa decide to enlighten them all. Only then did she decide that it might be worth mentioning.
Trace hated that slinthead.
But now she thanked her; without that tidbit of information, Trace would not have any kind of plan whatsoever. She only hoped Thomas could distract the thing enough for her to reach in and yank the lever.
Gross.
The Griever's lights flicked out, leaving them all in complete darkness; Trace couldn't see a thing. Not that she wanted to anyway. Ugly Grievers didn't deserve to be looked at.
YOU ARE READING
Subject A250: The Fangirl (COMPLETED)
Fanfiction--Book one in the Subject A250 series-- She's read the books. She's seen the movies. She knows all there is to know about the storyline. Except for her role in it.
