In my Blood

CHAPTER 6 - His Touch

"(y/n)?" Newt exclaims, his eyes wide with worry.

"I'm... I'm fine, I just..."

"Right, we need to pick her up, now," Thomas yells over the screams of boys all over the Glade. With one swift movement, Minho scoops me up in his arms, and I see Newt lose grip with my hand. My hand suddenly feels cold, and empty. I don't feel as safe. 

My head pounds in pain, and that's when we hear it. The screeches and inhumane shrieking coming from the Maze. Everyone bolts over towards the long grass next to the forest, to hide from the hideous creatures coming towards us. They have long, metallic, spider-like arms protruding from a sickly, slimy body. Their faces are twisted and morphed, their mouths home to dozens of razor-sharp teeth. I shudder at the sight of these monsters. The Grievers.

Minho ducks down and places me  on the ground in the long grass. My head still spinning, I close my eyes for a moment, clutching my forehead. I feel a hand resting on my back. Newt.

"Are you okay?!" he whispers.

"Y-Yeah, I'm sorry, I don't know what happened..."

"You don't need to apologise. As long as you're okay-" Newt cuts himself off in a hushed gasp as we begin to hear the creatures' legs battering the ground nearby.

Everyone holds their breath in terrified anticipation as they hear the noises around them getting closer and closer with each passing second. The noises get quieter, but I don't think it's because the creatures are getting any further away...

I see a long, clawed arm reach over someone's head. I open my mouth, to warn them – but it's too late. The boy lets out an agonised scream as his body is torn away from the long grass. My mouth gapes open, horrified beyond belief. Thomas whispers urgently for everyone to run, so we all follow him to the huts by the forest, Newt's hand still pressed against my back. Clint and Jeff are helping Alby out of the medical hut, unaware of everything that's been happening.

"What's going on?" Alby asks, his deep voiced laced with worry.

"They're here," Thomas wheezes, "the Grievers."

Screams and yells erupt from each side of the Glade, harsh shrieks break through the air. Then, we see it. A Griever, charging towards us in a mad, blood-thirsty turmoil, taking town huts in its path. It eyes its target. A small boy with bright red hair, faced away from the Griever. The creature pounces on the boy, raising its long, claw-like arm. I gasp in horror.

Breaking free from Newt's grasp, I run towards a table by the edge of the forest, ignoring the cries that echo after me. I grab a glass jar with fire glowing inside it, and lob it towards the Griever. Its writhing body ignites in flames as it screeches, the most blood-curdling sound to ever hear. The ginger boy scrambles away from the Griever, nodding quickly to me in thanks, bolting further into the woods to escape the rest of the creatures.

The maddened Griever faces me, still alight with orange flames. It roars in fury, setting its eyes on me. Oh, shuck.

I feel someone yanking on my arm, pulling me away from the creature. We all bolt as far away from it as possible as it struggles to maintain a steady run, collapsing defeated on the ground as the fire causes its slimy body to thrash and twist in unnatural ways. But... no, the fire's dying as the creature rolls around on the floor! It stands up further... I push my legs to run faster, however the Griever quickly catches up on us, the fire completely out.

Before I realise what's going on, I notice no one else is running. Alby is in front of the Griever now... ten feet... eight feet... five...

Out of nowhere, a whistling sound erupts through the air as the creature is hit by three spears. I look over to my left to see Gally and Frypan, and a few others, running towards us. We all run in a collective group towards the Homestead, where Chuck is waiting, and slam the door behind us. Everyone wheezes and gasps for breath, some clutching at their stomachs in pain. No one talks. It's pitch black. We can still hear the monstrous creatures, around us... closing in...

I see them through gaps in the thin wooden roof. And they see me. I squeeze my eyes together in fear, not wanting to see what happens next. 

Then, I feel someone grab my hand in the dark, their warm fingers wrapped around my palm. Taken aback, it takes me a few seconds before I squeeze their hand in return, comforted by something so simple as their touch. I can only see glimpses of shadowy moonlight escaping through small cracks in the roof; too dark to see the face of the boy who grabbed my hand.   

Could it be...?

I feel dust fall onto my face as the creature now stands directly above me on the roof. I hold my breath, not daring to make a noise. Anxious tears burn in my eyes without spilling onto my cheeks as I stifle a whimper. The creature moves away. Three minutes pass, no one dares to move.

A scream erupts through the air. An agonising, tortured scream, along with the sound of snapping wood, before unbearably tense silence.