Pasty's story [The Maze Runner]

16

 Run.

 Pasty was going to be sick. Her chest heaved, her face was purple. She couldn’t breathe. But the clicks and whirring in the darkness kept her moving. They’d been moving for so long. Never stopping. They’d stumbled on together, Minho and her. But she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep going.

 Run. Damn it, shuck-face, run.

 But Minho was stopping. Why is he stopping? Knowing if she stopped she wouldn’t be able to start again, she kept her feet moving as she stared at Minho.

 “What’re you doing? We gotta move, klunk head!”

 “I’m trying to figure out where we are. We’re goin’ back.”

 “Back?”

 “For Tommy. I can’t leave that shank there. We got as much chance there than here. Besides. Three’s better than one, right?”

 “Right,” Pasty panted breathlessly.

 “But we’re stopping first. I want you fit for this fight. I ain’t planning on you dying now.”

 They stopped and took long gulps of water from their back packs. They drained the bottles, before Minho dumped his back pack. At Pasty’s questioning look, he shrugged “It’ll slow us down. Ain’t likely we’ll need it after tonight, anyway.”

 Pasty nodded. Minho sighed and touched Pasty’s face lightly, before kissing her lips softly. Her hands rested on his back, and she couldn’t find it in her to care that he was drenched with sweat. This could be her last moment with him.

 “Let’s go get ‘em,” she whispered. Minho kissed her forehead.

 “Damn right, girl. Let’s dash.”

 They made a strong team. Side by side, they ran, keeping pace with each other, never leaving the other behind or racing ahead. It wasn’t like when they first met, where they raced to impress one another. They were running for their lives. For each other’s lives. In some ways, that meant so much more than their own. The sounds of the night didn’t deter them any longer: it kept them going. Pasty knew that Minho had learnt his lesson. He’d rather die now than leave his new friend to the Grievers. She just hoped they’d make it on time.

 They made a right turn. They were nearly back where they started. Suddenly, Minho stopped, Pasty slamming into his back.

 “There. I see him,” Minho said, his head whipping around the corner. Pasty looked out. She could see him, around three corridors down from them. Surrounded by Grievers. Pasty made to shout his name but Minho clamped his hand over her mouth.

 “No. We don’t want them to see us. And look. He’s doin’ fine.”

 He was right. Thomas had managed to get past and he was running, running hard towards them. As he passed them, panting, Minho grabbed him and pulled him over. Thomas yelped and struggled, before realising who it was. He breathed his name uncertainly, blinking.

 “What-”

 “Shut up and follow us!” Minho cried. The three of them began to run again. Minho led the way, twisting and turning eagerly, seemingly knowing where he was going. As he ran, he tried to speak.

 “I just saw…the dive move you did…back there…gave me an idea…we only have to last…a little while longer.”

 Pasty didn’t know what he meant, but trusted him to keep them safe. He always had before.  She could hear the Grievers behind them, gaining on them, their mechanic whirring and clicking making her heart thud wildly. Her legs burned and her body was drenched in sweat, but all she could think of was getting to wherever Minho was taking them. He’ll keep us safe, I know it. He has to.