Pasty's story [The Maze Runner]

16

 And then she saw it. Turning the corner, she saw the world’s end. It took her a moment to realise what it was.

 The Cliff.

 She could see Thomas’ face lighting up in elation, and Minho stopped, shaking his head sadly “Don’t get excited,” he warned. He thinks it’s our escape route Pasty thought sympathetically if only.

 They headed further down the corridor. Minho stopped Thomas a metre or so before the edge, but Pasty stood right by the edge, peering over curiously. Empty air and faded stars stretched endlessly, an abyss of nothing outside of the Maze.

 “Did you forget something?” Minho said, raising his eyebrow. Pasty turned back. For a moment, the endlessness of beyond the Cliff had made her forget the horrors in the Maze. Might be we’d be better chucking ourselves off the Cliff Pasty thought. She could see the Grievers advancing, quicker now than she’d ever seen them move.

 “These things might be vicious, but they’re dumb as dirt. Stand here, close to me, facing-”

 “I know. I’m ready,” Thomas said determinedly. Thomas pulled Pasty to his side.

 “We have to dive. They should tumble off the Cliff,” Thomas explained.

 “We need to be in sync!” Minho cried “On my mark!”

 The Grievers were rolling down the corridor, single file. They clicked and moaned ominously as they tucked in their spikes and rolled forwards. They were almost upon them.

 “Ready,” Minho whispered “Not yet…not yet…”

 Pasty’s knees shook. She could see both boys trembling as much as her. But she stayed steadily focused. I’m not ready to die tonight.

 “Now!” Minho shouted. Simultaneously, Pasty and Thomas dived to their left, colliding with one another and the stone wall. But the horrific screech that followed made Pasty’s aching body seem worth it. The Griever tumbled off the Cliff, a second one following after a valiant attempt to stay in the Maze. The third, too late, extended an arm to grip the stone floor, but fell too. Oddly, their descent was silent, as though the darkness had swallowed their cries and their bodies whole. But the fourth creature was still clinging to the ground. Sharing a tired grin with Minho, Pasty knew what to do. The three Gladers surged forwards, kicking out at the Griever and sending it flying over the edge, to a silent and fatal destiny. They all peered after the Grievers, but they were gone. Pasty sighed, stumbling back and hitting the ground with a thud. She closed her eyes, lying back, letting out an internal sigh of relief. We’re safe she thought.

 She lay there for a long while. She could hear Thomas crying, sobs wracking his chest, and Minho’s shallow breathing as he tried to compose himself. She thought tears would come, but they stayed locked up inside her chest, weighing her down.

 This was all my fault. I saw this. In my dream. I could have stopped it.

 If she’d caught on sooner, Alby would never have been stung. Now he might die, or be dead already, because of her. Thomas risked his life for her. They’d spent the night terrified because of her. And the night wasn’t yet over. But what mattered was she’d put three people in danger. It’s my fault.

 She felt a hand touch her face. Her eyes opened slowly. Minho. He wiped away tears she hadn’t even realised were there.

 “This ain’t your fault,” he whispered, stroking the hair from her face “We’re all going to get back. Alby’s going to make it. We’ll all be fine. You saved my skin. You kept me together through this. There’s three of us now, and we’re going to be just fine. OK?”