The Girl

Chapter Fifty Four

  I must be dead. The first feeling that hits me when I regain consciousness is cold. It begins in the pit of my stomach and extends up through my body. My muscles are sore, like it might be a struggle to rise up. There's not one part of my body that doesn't ache. My head being the core of it all.

Deep in my subconscious is a dull buzzing pain, that extends its throbbing tendrils into every possible spot it could reach.

I must be driving myself insane. It's really the only solution. The voices, the darkness, the isolation. The small spaces and no food probably don't help either.

I have to keep going. I have to survive. I have to get back to Newt.

I build up all the strength I can possible gather in my body to push myself up the cold, hard floor. I groan as a pain shoots through my head. Just keep going. Find that damn backpack. I feel around me for my flashlight, I won't be able to do anything without it.

Luckily, before I blacked out, I clicked the flashlight back on so I could follow the beam of light and pick it up. A wave of dizziness washed over me and I stumble over to a wall to steady myself.

A soft lump gets in my way. Energy surges through me all of a sudden and I bend down to pick up the lump.

"My backpack!" I shout triumphantly. I grin down at it. I click the button on my watch to light up. It's four in the morning. I've almost been here for twenty four hours. Maybe the runners will hear me if I scream for help, maybe they'll try to rescue me...

But then again, no one's survived a night in the maze.

I shake my head and dismiss the thoughts. Right now, all I need to be focused on is finding my own way out of here.

And eating. I dig through my backpack and pull out an apple that I had packed away inside it. I quickly devour the red saviour, not eating in over twenty four hours didn't do well for me.

I sit down, cross legged, with my backpack resting in front of me. I have to check my supplies and use my resources. I put the flashlight between my teeth, freeing my hands to pull at the zipper on the side of the bag. I shuffle through the materials.

First is the rope. I remember Minho telling me that it's twelve feet long, used for rock climbing. Could be useful for exploring the rock pile.

Second is extra clothes and jacket Minho had insisted on me bringing. I argued that it'd add extra unnecessary weight, but he shook his head. "It'll help you keep a level head." I went along with it.

Then there are two more apples and three sandwiches, along with two cookies. Frypan must've snuck those in there as comfort food.

Towards the bottom of the bag there are weapons. A knife, a crowbar, a hammer, matches, and a shovel. There's extra batteries and a backup flashlight in there too.

I had put together a first aid kit to bring with me, being the medjack I am. Bandages, rubbing alcohol, gauze. I brought it all.

Then, at the very bottom of the bag lies three bottles full of water.

I pull out a water bottle and drink half of it before stopping myself. Don't finish it, who knows how long you'll be stuck here.

After I'm finished sifting through the bag, I repack it and shove it aside. Now that I've found my supplies, I may actually have a chance at survival.

All of a sudden the pains come back. My head, my legs, my shoulders all throb with a dull aching pain. I stretch my arms up towards the ceiling.

"Ow, ow... not a good idea," I cringe. I know I'm going to have to get up eventually though, I can't stop trying to escape.

My first instinct is to try and rid the rocks from my entrance. I dig through the backpack to pull out the shovel. Not that I need it, but it may help me save my strength.

Then I notice a problem: where the hell am I supposed to put the rocks?

I'll just, maybe, pile them up in the corner? It's not a great solution but I haven't got a better one so that's what I'm using.

I start at the bottom of the pile, thrusting the shovel into the rocks and throwing them aside into the blank corner of the room. With each shovel, more rocks tumble in from the opening on the ceiling. I groan in frustration.

"You're kidding, right?" I yell at the ceiling. I roll my eyes, knowing it can't hear me or answer me, and keep going for a few more shovels. Then I give up.

"Ugh..." I sigh and toss my shovel aside. I sit cross-legged on the floor, my chin resting on my hand, before getting up to retrieve my shovel once again. I might need it. And then I realize my only option.

If I can't get out the way I came in, then I need to find another way out.