Cally's pov
"Somehow I've to go through that!" Thomas told Minho, grabbing the Keeper's arm while nodding towards the big wall of approaching Grievers. Newt and Minho exchanged a long glance, not saying anything.
I was getting more and more anxious with every passing second, seeing the three groups of monsters coming at us from all sides. I knew we would have to fight, but with the battle only seconds away, I regretted my decision to come.
"They're coming!" Teresa yelled. "We have to do something!"
This got the two to decide. "You lead," Newt told Minho, his voice almost a whisper. "Make a bloody path for Tommy and the girl. Do it."
Minho nodded once, his face hardening with a new kind of determination before he turned to the rest of the Gladers. "We head straight to the Cliff! Fight through the middle , push the shuckin' things against the walls. What matters most is getting Thomas and Teresa to the Griever Hole!"
I listened to Minho's instructions, but my attention was with the approaching Grievers. The wall of grey skin and metal pins, spikes, and blades they formed was only a few meters away.
A hand grabbed mine, I looked up, expecting to see Newt, but instead, I looked up into Ezra's eyes. "Stay together." He whispered only loud enough for me to hear.
"Together." I answered with a half forced smile. I tightened my other hand around the pitchfork that served as my weapon. I had wrapped barbed wire around the metal and slammed nails into it where the wood started. The pocket knife I had when I came here was bound to my belt just in case.
Ezra's weapon was a shovel. The metal parts were broken, creating sharp spikes at the top. I knew our weapons were nothing compared to the murder machines we were up against, but it was better than nothing.
"Ready!" Minho yelled, sticking a barbwire-wrapped club into the air, together with a long silver knife.
My heart was pounding against my chest when Minho pointed at the Grievers with his knife.
"Now!" Without any hesitation, Minho ran to the Grievers. Newt followed immediately with Ezra and me on their heels. In no time, all the Gladers were running at the living grey wall, weapons raised in the air while screaming our battle cries.
I don't think I'd ever felt this much adrenaline rush through my body, not when I ran through the Maze for the first time, or when I got chased by that Griever, or when I got stung by the second Griever that hunted me down; not even when I'd kissed Newt for the first time only hours ago. No, this was way worse. It almost made the fear I had felt a few seconds ago disappear entirely.
Almost.
Minho and Newt were the first ones to attack one of the slugs, two other Gladers jumped in to help while Ezra and I attacked the Griever on the other side of them, trying to push them apart and create an opening for Thomas, Teresa and Chuck.
I jammed my pitchfork into the slimy body of the Griever. It led out a high-pitched screech, but it didn't seem to do much damage.
The creature tried to slam me aside with one of his metal legs, but Ezra used his shovel to block it. Quickly, I pulled the fork out of its body, disgusted by the sound and slimy yellow substance that leaked out of the wound. If it wasn't for the adrenaline, I would've puked after I realizing the yellow substance must be its blood, but there wasn't any time for hesitation.
The Griever raised one of his other arms, one with a big blade attached to it. The creature was about to stab it into my twin's back, so I did what he had done for me, I blocked it. The blade hit between two of my pitchfork's pins, slashing through the barbwire with ease. Quickly, I turned the fork, forcing the creature's blade to hit the ground with full force. Sparks flew as the blade scraped over the stones, getting stuck inside of it.
Ezra was still trying to keep the Griever's other arm away from me, which gave me the opportunity to charge again. This time I stabbed it higher. Another screech came from it, but it still didn't seem to be mortally wounded.
Before I could do anything else, there was a flash of metal in the corner of my eyes, and the next thing I knew, I was flying through the air, landing on my back. The impact blew all the air out of my lungs.
Groaning, I pushed myself up from the ground, trying to find my weapon, only to realize my pitchfork was still stuck in the Griever's side.
Forgetting to draw my knife so I still wouod have some kind of defense against the monsters around us, I ran back to my brother and the Griever. I had almost reached them when Brandon charged at the creature.
He jumped on top of it and lifted his wooden spear above his head before stabbing it through the Griever's skull. The creature didn't screech this time, but it screamed. A moment later, it collapsed to the ground... It was dead.
"You killed it!" I yelled at Brandon with more enthusiasm I ever thought I would say something like that. Brandon looked down at the creature beneath him with a trace of disbelief in his eyes. That disbelieve quickly turned into pride as he jumped up and pulled his spear out of the Griever's head.
"Minho!" I yelled to my friend while retrieving my own weapon. He had just ordered a group of guys to help Thomas, Teresa, and Chuck. He turned to look at us, eyes widening once he saw the dead creature, "go for the head!" Minho nodded once before he turned back to the Shanks closest to him and started to make sure everyone knew how to kill the monsters.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Teresa jump through the Grieve Hole, followed by Chuck and Thomas.
"Cally!" With a jerk I turned back around. Ezra was backing away from one of the other Grievers, knowing that he wouldn't be able to fight it on his own. Determined, I joined my brother's side. I wasn't the only one who joined him, one of his Builder friends had come as well. I had never met him, but we exchanged one quick look before we got ready to attack the creature.
It went fast, very fast. I was the first to charge, but before I could even get close enough to the Griever to hit it with my pitchfork, another one collided with my side. Again, I got launched through the air, this time only stopping because I hit a wall.
A faint buzzing echoed through my ears, and my vision got blurry. My head hit the wall, resulting in a sharp pain shooting from my head, through my spine to my arms and legs, which I had landed on. Blood seeped down my neck, my arms, and one of my legs, but I didn't have time to see how bad the wounds were.
I could hear someone scream my name faintly, but I was too disorientated to recognize the voice or where it had come from. The buzzing in my ears started to fade, making place for another, way more terrifying sound.
*Click* *Click* *Click* *wheeze* *Click* *Click*
Ignoring the protests my body gave me, I shot up, just in time to see the Griever charging one of its needles at me.
Without thinking, I rolled to the left, just in time to dodge the needle. It slammed against the stone floor, little sparks flying up.
Frantically, I looked around me, I could see my pitchfork, but I didn't see Ezra anywhere, or anyone else I knew. The people I did see were engaged in their own battles, I had to do this alone.
I grabbed my pitchfork, jumping up from the ground. The Griever had been able to recover itself. Standing on its metal legs, blocking my way from everything and everyone. For some time, the Griever and I didn't move. We looked at each other, both seeming to be analyzing their opponent. I could hear my own heartbeat, the blood rushing threw my ears, accompanying the faint buzz that was still there.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the red light and metallic glimmer of a Beetle Blade between the ivy on the wall behind me. Of course they were watching.
The Griever was the first to move. It launched itself forward, I had just enough time to jump aside. The creature's plump body collided with the wall, but it didn't matter. The Griever just stuck its pins in the wall and pulled itself up.
Seeing my opportunity, I tried to stab my pitchfork in its head, but the Griever seemed to have anticipated my course of action. Before I could hit it, the creature sliced at my makeshift weapon with one of its blades. Wooden splinters flew through the air as the knife went straight through the wood, breaking it in two, leaving me with a stick in my hands. Some of the wood that had been flying around hit me in the face and arms, leaving splinters.
The Griever lashed out at my head, I jumped out of the way but tripped over something metal, making me drop the stick. The Griever let itself fall to the ground again, its legs forcing little part of rocks and sand to shoot away while its body crushed my stick.
Not able to stand up, my way blocked by the Griever that hovered over me, I tried to crawl backward. Panic taking over every part of my body when I hit something big and slimy. A dead Griever lay on the ground behind me, and it was blocking the way.
Not knowing what else to do, I grabbed my pocket knife. It was small, too small to do actual damage to the creature that was now looming over me. I was making myself as small as possible, trying to avoid getting crushed by the Griever's body while it came closer.
Instead of launching itself at me as it had done to Alby, this one seemed to enjoy toying with my fear. It slowly brought its head closed to my face, I could smell its disgusting breath while its mucus dripped on me.
I lashed out with my tiny knife. It cut the Griever's throat, getting stuck in it in the process. The creature pulled its head back with a loud roar. Apparently, I had hit where it hurt. Desperately, I reached for the head of my pitchfork. It had hit the dead Griever just like I had done, but multiple feet to my left. I still couldn't get up, The Griever was too close, a weird, low, gorgling sound now coming from it. It sounded almost like it was growlingat me. It's yellow blood gargling in its throat, making it drip out of the wound even faster.
I was still trying to get what was left of my pitchfork, stretching my arm and fingers as far out as I could, but it was impossible for me to see where it was exactly, the monster was blocking my line of sight. Just as I was about to give up, accepting my faith, my fingers brushed over something metal. Not caring about the barbwire that impaled my skin, I grabbed the head of the pitchfork. The Griever, who was opening its mouth for a final attack, didn't notice a thing until I used all of my strength to stab the fork into its mouth, through the top of its mouth into the skull.
The creature screamed, but I ignored it as I pushed it further, feeling the metal pins break through the Griever's bones and impale its brains. After a fit of jolts, the Creature's body gave away and finally stopped moving. The creatures lifeless body collapsing on top of my lower body and legs.
I tried to roll it away and get up, but one of its metal legs had somehow entangled with a big chunk of my hair, pinning my head to the ground. It wouldn't have been so big of a deal if yet another Griever hadn't noticed I was still alive.
This one moved way faster than the other one I had just killed. This one didn't seem to have the need to play around with me. It was going in for the kill.
A new wave of panic came over me. I needed to get away and fast.
I started to pull on my hair, but it didn't seem to work. Then, my eyes fell on the hand grip of my pocket knife, sticking out of the dead Griever on top of me. I grabbed it, pulled it loose, and sliced through my hair. It hurt way more than I thought it would, but it worked. Now, with my head free, I shot up straight, my legs still trapped underneath the giant, dead slug.
I glanced back. The Griever was still running at me, only a few meters away. I tried to push the Griever off of my legs, but it was too heavy for me on my own.
The next thing I tried was to get the head of my pitchfork out of the Griever's skull. I jerked and pulled as much as I could, but unfortunately, it was as stuck as I was.
With no other choice, I turned to the approaching Griever, sticking out my small knife in front of me with closed eyes. My hands were sweating as I clenched on to the small weapon. My heart pounded against my chest as if it were trying to escape my body and get away from the monster without me.
This is it. I realized. I was going to die. The Griever was coming for me, and I couldn't protect myself. The only thing I still had left was my pocket knife, nothing else. I couldn't save myself with that small metal thing, and there was no one else that could save me. Thomas and Teresa probably hadn't made it, or at least not in time for me. But that was okay. As long as the others made it. Ezra, Newt, Minho, Chuck, and all the others. Especially them, though. As long as they were still alive and made it through, it would've been worth it.
Still too scared to open my eyes, I squeezed my hands even tighter around my knife. My body shaking. I could feel the mixture of my own blood and sweat with the mucus and yellow blood from the Grievers drip down my skin. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, and as I breathed out, I accepted my fate, and opened my eyes.