𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑺 𝑮𝑶𝑻 𝑻𝑶 her feet, wiping her hands on her leggings. There were small cuts and bruises on her hands and shoulders from where she'd hit the floor ungracefully, and she turned to shoot a glare at Thomas.
His mouth was hung open in shock — eyes wide, like he'd been expecting anything different. "What?" He asked, voice desperate. Minho slumped off of his knees, wincing.
"Wow," said Emis, "I can really see why you're Keeper of the Runners. Positivity, encouragement. You bring the whole package deal." It was true, she was trying to stifle her fear by acting nonchalant. But she enjoyed throwing a dig at Minho for the hell of it. The least it could do was ease the heavy tension.
He gave her a withering look, wiping his sweaty hands on his trousers. "What happened to him?" Thomas asked. Emis had almost forgotten that Alby was there; the thrill of finally stepping into the Maze, the fear of being trapped there overnight, the effort to keep herself as calm as possible — they'd all outshone the reason why they were here in the first place.
Minho didn't look up. His tone was filled with sour. "What's it look like? He got stung."
Emis felt her heart sink. Stung.First it was Ben. Were the Grievers going to pick them all off like flies in a spider's web? She shuddered as the image of her bare hands tearing through its rubbery flesh rose to the front of her mind. Thomas shifted forwards on his knees. He gestured to the glistening red welt on the side of Alby's head. "What happened to his head?" He asked.
Minho glanced down at the wound, swallowing thickly. "I did what I had to do." He said, after a moment's hesitation. Emis swallowed. He still breathed heavily.
Before she could reply, a loud echoing wail burst into the air. It shook the walls and the ground, just enough so that the world went askew for a moment. Emis dug her ear into her shoulder, wincing at how uncomfortable the sound was. The pain wasn't nearly as bad as it had been before. It was bearable if she held her breath.
"Okay." She heard Thomas say to himself. She watched as he thought hard for a moment, eyes darting all over the place; to Alby's body, to the fork in the passage in front of them, to Minho. "Okay," he repeated, "Help me get him up."
Emis moved onto her knees, going to help, but stopped when she realised Minho had stood up, and was walking away from them. "Are you going somewhere?" She asked, tone sharp with accusation.
