artemis, MAZE RUNNER¹

² 𝒇𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏.

"And what have you done about it?" His voice was almost a whisper now. She swallowed.

"You—"

"Hey!" Minho's voice sliced through the tension like a knife. Emis hadn't realised that the others had stopped, too. "Is there a problem here?"

She shouldered past Ryan, shaking her head. "No." She said shortly, ignoring his sharp sour laugh from behind her. "Were we holding you up?"

Minho gave her a measuring look. He shrugged. "We're already here." He said, then turned to gesture behind him.

In the daylight, the reality of what had happened last night seemed to sharpen, like the image in a camera finally coming into focus. The leg jutted out through the narrow gap between the closed walls, bent metal catching the sunlight and giving off a dull, flat shine. The rest of the Griever had congealed together in a pool at the floor, thick and spongy and splattered outwards in a puddle of what looked like tar and oil. The air was heavy with the stench of burnt gasoline and rot. Emis could taste bile rising in the back of her throat.

"That's disgusting." Zart said, his loud, echoing voice breaking through the silence. Emis glanced at him. He was holding a shovel as a makeshift weapon, face red from the exertion of running so fast and for so long. She felt a pang of guilt—he'd only come to give his support and at the same time thrown himself into a world of danger and uncertainty. And excitement, she reminded herself. This is better than sitting ducks, just waiting for it to hit.

"Hey, there's something in there." Thomas said, suddenly, taking a step forwards.

Frypan made a face at him. "You mean besides a Griever pancake?"

But Thomas was right. In amongst the mess of metal and Griever-soup, a sharp pinprick of red light had begun to flash up against the dark, and a static crackling noise that sounded like the distorted feedback of a radio had filtered into the air.

Minho took a step closer, foot skidding across the ground's surface. He swore under his breath.

"Woah, wait, Minho—" Zart cut in. "What are you doing?"

Minho shot him an indignant look, before plunging his hand into the gap between the walls. Emis sucked in a breath. The seconds seemed to stretch out into hours as he fumbled around in the dark.

Suddenly, the leg swerved upwards in a huge, swift movement. Emis felt her heart jump into her throat, throwing herself backwards. Minho stumbled away from the wall, slipping again on the mess on the floor. Ryan cursed, so far now from the rest of them he was almost entirely flat against the wall. There was a sharp intake of breath, almost collectively. But nothing happened. The ring of metal scraping against concrete had died on the air. Emis felt her chest sink in relief.

"I thought you said it was dead." Frypan said, his voice uneven.

Zart scratched his ear. "Was it a reflex?"

"You hope." Winston shot back, chest rising and falling hard. Emis heard Ryan mutter something unintelligible under his breath.

"C'mon." Thomas said, "let's try and pull it out." Frypan shot him another withering look. Apart from Ryan, they all took up a side of the leg, and with a heave, Thomas said, "On three." He breathed in. "One, two—"

Emis had pulled too early. With a snap the strength had flooded back, and the leg skated out between the gap in one full, fluid movement. It clattered loudly to the ground, throwing the others back with its force. She shuffled back, dropping it as if it had burned her. "Sorry." She mumbled, glancing at Frypan, who had been knocked onto the floor. He didn't seem to hear her as he got to his feet. She swallowed, glancing up and catching Ryan's eye. He was glaring at her. She felt anger flush up her cheeks, looking away immediately.