Gally and the boys he grabbed to help him build had achieved a lot in the day. They added a whole room onto the wooden shack in the corner they nicknamed the Homestead, and Gally had mentioned wanting it to be the Glade's kitchen.
As they all trapezed inside, boys from the Maze leading the way, Siggy had more leftovers of the sandwiches from earlier. Clara knew they were bound to get sick of them soon, but didn't say a word about it, since they had no other foods available yet.
"So, what happened back here?" Nick asked, as he collapsed onto a chair that Gally had expertly constructed.
Everyone else scattered themselves on the ground, taking a well deserved break from the day they spent slaving away. Clara chose to stand, leaning back against a wooden pillar and choosing to trust Gally's building skills.
"Not that much," She realised, suddenly feeling embarrassed for her excitement. "I named the place the Glade, we added a room onto here - obviously - and people got their names back." She summarised, as Nick nodded approvingly.
"We didn't find anything in the Box. We couldn't get down past it." A boy piped up, shrugging.
Clara suddenly felt a pit of guilt form in her stomach. She forgot about the boys checking out the Box. She also reckoned now that the Box was a dead-end, despite what she thought previously.
"What was it like in the Maze?" Clara shot back at Nick, feeling her stomach twist nervously at the prospect of escape, despite not being told anything.
"Well, just like here, we all remembered our names."
Nick then took the liberty of introducing the boys that all came with him in the Maze: Minho, Newt, Alby and George. Minho proudly butted in to add that he was the first of them to get his name back.
"You have yours yet?" Nick asked her suddenly, and her heart sunk with the realisation that she was one of the very few who hadn't. She shook her head, and Nick grinned back at her.
"Unlucky." He shot back, with a wink.
George; a tall boy with light brown hair and one of Nick's Maze Runners, raised his hand hesitantly. Clara wanted to laugh at his reluctance to just interrupt the conversation, which she would actually encourage, but just about refrained since he was so sweet in doing so.
"There is something though." Clara's eyebrows furrowed at George's ominous words, and he glanced to Nick for approval before continuing. "The Maze - it changes."
Changes? Like, the paths change?
"That's ridiculous." Gally scoffed, earning a few mutters of agreement.
"We were sent up into the middle of a Maze, wiped of all memories of a previous life." Clara argued back, stealing Gally's focus momentarily. "But you think it changing is too unrealistic?"
"George is right," Nick added, resting his hand on the boy's shoulder with a heavy heart. "The Maze changes. The corridor we went down today wasn't there yesterday."
"The Maze is huge." Minho murmured, and his previous bubbliness seemed to have simmered down at the sudden drop in mood.
Clara involuntarily let out a nervous chuckle, earning a few confused glances from the boys around her. Nick in particular was watching her curiously, as she stifled her anxious laughs which appeared to be a coping mechanism, and composed herself.
"Okay, so we'll have to work hard to figure out the Maze. We can do it." She spoke firmly, but she could see that not everyone was being swayed by her words. "We have to, if we wanna get out of here."
"How are we gonna figure it out if the Maze keeps changing?" Siggy asked, his voice unexpectedly coming from where he was sat near the back of the room.
There was a beat of silence after the question. Of course, the thought playing on everyone's mind was that they wouldn't figure it out if it was different every day.
"I don't understand it changing. When? And how?"
Clara couldn't blame Gally's reluctance to accept it all. If she could, she'd refuse the ridiculousness of the whole situation. But, she had a feeling that she'd have to accept it. She had a feeling that things were only going to get a lot worse.
Nick had been quiet for a while. His hands were locked behind his head as he sat back on the chair with a thoughtful expression. Before he could say anything to calm the panic beginning to rise, a different quiet voice spoke.
"When the doors shut every night, they change in the time it takes for them to open again." Newt offered up, his eyes lighting up with the realisation of how well his theory worked. "You can kind of hear it at night; the walls moving, the pathways shutting up."
"I was saying this morning, I heard stuff out there." Siggy told Newt, who nodded in appreciation of the fact he was backing him up.
Gally's stare was burning into the floor, not wanting to make eye contact with any of them. When Clara looked at him carefully, she could see his eyes were watering. She wanted to reassure him, but thought better, imagining his outraged response to her noticing that he had emotions.
"I've just had an idea; for the Box." Gally spoke again suddenly, his eyes now dry and fixed on a corner of the room where a number of building tools laid.
"Are you okay, Stephen?" Newt called down the shaft, his strong accent echoing powerfully and hitting their ears a hundred times over.
Gally's idea for the Box was simple but genius. They had a rope - at least fifty feet long - which they could use to tie someone on the end of it securely, and lower them down the elevator shaft. It was a unanimous decision to go through with it, because most people agreed that the Box could be their way out.
"I'm good!" A cheery reply called back up, earning a few chuckles and snickers from boys around, not envious of his position.
It was quite surprising how quickly Stephen had volunteered to go down the elevator shaft, considering they had no idea what was down there. But then when Clara really thought about it, if it was the way out, he'd be the first one free.
Nick and Alby were holding tightly onto the rope Stephen was suspended on. The end of it was tied to a burly tree, so there was no way they could let go completely and cause serious damage. Very slowly, they were letting more and more of the rope slack, so Stephen was lowered further and further down.
And then suddenly, something tugged furiously on the end of it. Nick and Alby shared concerned glances, still holding it tightly as there appeared to be a struggle continuing on the other end, down below in the elevator shaft that was disrupting the rope. Clara knelt down beside them, glancing into the darkness and calling out,
"Stephen?"
For a moment, there was no reply, and all anyone could hear was the echoing of the girl's shout. And then, "Help! HELP!"
Stephen's screams burst out of nowhere, echoing up the elevator shaft to their ears, his shrieks and distress only intensifying as the Gladers began to panic at his panic. "GET ME OUT!"
"Pull it up! Pull up the rope!" Clara cried frantically, her hands tugging her hair hard enough to make herself dizzy.
Nick and Alby began furiously pulling on the rope as Stephen's yells and cries turned to choked sobs. A number of boys joined the two in their desperate struggle, their hands being burnt red and raw from the friction of the rope as they tried to move as quickly as possible.
Clara felt helpless to Stephen's cries for help. None of them had a clue what had suddenly turned it all sour, and that was the worst part about it. And then it all turned silent.
Why isn't he screaming anymore?
She watched as the boys pulling on the rope suddenly became more relaxed, as though a weight had been pulled from the end. But that's a ridiculous thought, right? If Stephen fell from the rope, they would've heard him scream, and it would be far easier to pull it up.
"I see him!" Newt called, from where he was crouched at the side of the Box, leaning over the shaft with an anxious Minho hovering directly behind him to make sure he wouldn't fall down.
Stephen's body was fully hauled up onto the grass, everyone first catching sight of his face - mouth wide open in a silent scream, eyes stretched in fear - and then gazes fell onto the lack of what body part used to be there. Instead, blood dripped onto the grass, rolling down into the Box, from where the bottom half of his body used to be.
Immediately, Clara felt a wave of nausea pushing at the back of her throat. She stumbled away from the group, towards the trees, and her sandwiches made an appearance once again.
A hand went to her back, and another swept towards her face, pulling her blonde hair out of the way. Nick wrinkled his nose in disgust, but he looked more concerned for the girl as he patted her back gently but awkwardly.
"You okay?"
She straightened up again, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She could taste bile at the back of her mouth, but ignoring it, she gave Nick a funny look at the question, and then chanced a glance back to Stephen's body. It made her feel sick once again, but she didn't have anything to throw up.
"Clara." Her name had come back to her, and rushing out of her mouth before she could take a moment to think. "My name is Clara."
She suddenly realised what the boys meant when they said their names had come to them. It was as though someone was saying it to her in her mind, and her whole mind and body was repeating it, embodying it. She just knew it was hers. More than she knew anything else.
Before Nick could respond to her revelation, she had bounded back over to the group, who were still stood in shock by Stephen's body. She knew then that she had to do something, because no one else would. Not even Nick.
"We need to give him a proper burial, in the forest."
"In the Deadheads." Someone in the crowd mumbled, and no one could bring themselves to laugh. It all felt too eerie and too grown up for a bunch of kids to handle.
"I guess that's what we'll end up calling it, huh?" She asked, a wobble in her voice.
No one was crying, was what she noticed. It was inevitable that someone would be, at some point, but at that very moment everyone was far too taken aback. She was too, after all.
"This is my fault," Gally muttered under his breath, his chest beginning to heave with uneven breaths.
"This is my fault." He repeated louder, boys beginning to look at him as he began to freak out. "It was my idea to go down the stupid Box!"
"Gally!" Clara yelled at him over his yelling, shutting him up instantly. "As awful as Stephen's death was, he chose to go down that Box. He knew there was a risk of something bad happening."
A few murmurs of disagreement and disbelief sounded from the boys around, and she eyed each of them as she said coldly, "You can disagree, but it was his decision. It wasn't Gally's fault."
She looked to the boy again, who despite not saying anything, looked grateful beyond belief. Nick was watching him carefully, as though he was a ticking bomb about to blow up at any moment. It was obvious that he was wary of him, but Clara only saw him as just as scared as the rest of them.
"Besides, the people who put us here, the Creators," She paused, feeling a lump forming in her throat at her spooky thoughts. "I don't think they want us to get out."
By the next morning, a grave had been dug for Stephen in the Deadheads. A few brave boys had carried his severed boy through the woods and into the grave, as the others fought the urge to throw up. They made a small wooden cross with his name engraved into it, and placed it at the head of his grave, to commemorate him.
Nick and Clara woke earlier than the others once again, and firmly decided that Nick and the group of boys he took out to the Maze the day prior, would be running the Maze every day. Nick informed her that Minho was most definitely the quickest runner of them all, and his short term memory served well too.
When they told the rest of the Gladers this - the group was dubbed this because they were residents of the Glade - they were more than happy to be the ones staying in the Glade rather than heading out. Gally, in contrast, somehow found a way to make it negative.
"Nick thinks we're gonna be stuck here for a while, huh?" He posed her the question as they waved off the group running off into the Maze.
She let out a heavy sigh in reply, watching the boys disappear before turning back to the rest of the Glade. Gally tailed her closely, still expectantly awaiting her reply to a question she couldn't really answer. How would she know what Nick's thinking?
"Probably." Gally's face flooded in terror, and Clara scrambled to reassure him. "Hey, it doesn't mean we will be. We just have to expect the worse."
As Gally disappeared off to add more rooms onto the Homestead, Clara was glad that he didn't ask her for her own opinion. She didn't want to have to tell him that she couldn't imagine them ever escaping.
The group was slowing falling into a functioning society; assigning jobs based on everyone's best skills. Nick had the genius idea of assigning a 'Keeper' to each job, who was the person that was the best of the group, to lead them in a way. It was also decided that the Keeper would represent the job at future Council meetings.
Nick, the appointed leader, also worked as a Runner in the Maze. Minho jumped at the opportunity to become the Runners' Keeper, with Clara agreeing happily because it seemed to be the only thing he would take seriously.
Frypan - previously Siggy, but he hated the name so much that he was quickly nicknamed as Frypan - was the Cooks Keeper. Not many other boys seemed keen to cook for the large group, but Fry managed to rope in a number of boys to help him out.
Gally was the Keeper of the Builders. Clara was the one to say to Nick that she believed Gally should be a Keeper. He obviously wanted to, but Nick most likely wouldn't have made him one if it wasn't for her. She thought it was important to have different perspectives - and Gally sure loved to argue the other side of things with them.
Clara was of course the second-in-command, but decided that as well as keeping everyone in check, she'd help out the only Med-jack (medic) in the place: Clint. None of the boys were enthusiastic at the prospect of the job, especially as it became obvious that the Builders and the Slicers - those that worked in the Bloodhouse slaughtering animals - would visit often with stupid injuries.
After the death of Stephen, Clara got what she thought was the genius idea of scratching their names into one of the walls of the Glade. She was first to do so, carving out the letters of her name with the unexplainable knowledge of being able to read and write. Throughout the day, the boys of the Glade came and went from the wall to do the same.
When the Runners returned from the Maze, Nick was the one to step up and write Stephen's name and then scratch it out; to symbolise his death.
That day, Gally and his Builders worked hard in building a wooden shack in the middle of the Deadheads, that they named the Map room. This, as so cleverly named, was in use for the Runners alone to draw up a map of the paths of the Maze they had ran.
And that night before dinner, the group were able to catch up again on the events of the day. A heavy tension hung in the air - most likely in association with Stephen's death - but no one wanted to bring up what had happened only a day prior.
"The Maze definitely changes."
George nodded in agreement of Nick's firm words, seemingly pleased that the point he made the day before was actually being listened to. And although he was happy about this, no one else seemed to be.
In fact, an aura of panic had risen in the group, fresh fears of the slim possibilities of escape through the Maze if it was renewed everyday. And today, new fears seemed to be present.
Many people were wondering of what would happen if someone were to get stuck on the other side of the walls when they shut each night.
The Runners - chosen well, apparently - had managed to all make it back before curfew, as Clara liked to call it, and so it was still a mystery to the group as to what would happen if they didn't. The girl was sure that they shouldn't try and find out; not after what happened to Stephen in the Box.
"We're never gonna get out!" Gally - of course - was incredibly helpful in escalating the fear of the group.
It took less than a second for Nick to get up from his chair, and prove perfectly why he had been chosen as the leader. Clapping his hands together once, he gained the attention of the Gladers panicking and arguing over one another.
"We are gonna get out of here, okay?" There was no response to his bold claim, and so he exhaled heavily. "But for now, let's just go have some dinner."