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Hawk was the first person she went to after she was dismissed from the Gathering. Blake knew he was terrified of the Grievers, and to ask him to fight them, well it wasn't going to be easy. She found him slouching near a tree, hitting nails into the bark. His normal joyful eyes were replaced with defeat.
Blake leaned against the tree next to him. "I'm gonna ask you something but you can't freak out, okay?"
Hawk gave her a questionable look but nodded. "Does this "something" involve Sleeping Beauty, Thomas?"
"No, but it does involve what he said."
"And? What did he say?"
Blake bit her lip. "He knows how we can escape, but you aren't gonna like how."
"Maybe I'll surprise you. I do that a lot, don't I?" Hawk smiled, but his eyes revealed the truth. He looked nervous...almost scared.
"We have to go through the Griever Hole. Fight off the Grievers," Blake said, blankly.
Hawk blinked a few times. "What?"
"We have—"
"No, I heard what you shucking said. But we can't. We can't fight them. We just can't. Obviously, Thomas is full of klunk. Probably drugged up on Grief Serum," he paused. "Gally was right about the Grievers taking one a night. He might be right when he said there is no way out."
"Gally was crazy—"
"Maybe, but he just wanted to do what he thought was best for the Gladers."
Blake took a deep breath, she didn't want to talk about Gally. "Hawk, I know you're scared. But this is our only way out. We don't have a chance if we sit here like big babies. At least out there, we have a chance. Come on, Hawk. You have to face your fears sometimes."
Hawk looked down at his hammer, tears filling his eyes. Blake could see now that under all his smiles and jokes, lied a boy.
A boy who was just human. A boy who was scared. Blake felt the guilt, knowing his fear was of the creatures she had made.
"I don't think I can fight them, Blake," Hawk mumbled, his voice breaking. Tears were threatening to spill. "I don't know how to use a weapon or run. How am I supposed to beat a huge Griever?"
Blake reset her hand on the boy's shoulder. "It won't be just you. You'll have the others to help you. But If you stay here—you'll die. You have a chance out there, Hawk."
Hawk took a deep breath. "I need some time...You know to think and stuff."
Blake nodded. "Okay. You can do it. Face your fears, Hawk. I know you can."
+++
Blake found Thomas and Teresa sitting on a bench near the Homestead. She stood in front of them, hands on her hips, looking at the ground. "I can't believe you guys made the Maze," Blake shook her head. "Maybe I'm not the only horrible person here."
Thomas shrugged. "I think we're all horrible in our own way."
"I guess so," Teresa nodded, a smile moving its way on her pale face.
"Newt trying to convince them to go. Tonight," Thomas said, nodding to himself.
"Good. One thing I know for sure about the Grievers is that they're deadly. Going to be a bloodbath and that won't look pretty," Blake frowned.
"Yeah, I don't think they realize that. So keep it sugar-coded. Got it, Blake," Thomas asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Yeah, yeah."
"Um, Blake, did you remember anything regarding the Grievers that could help us?" Teresa asked, leaning forward.
Blake shook her head, scanning through her head for anything. "I'll keep trying."
They sat there in silence. Then, suddenly, a dusted echoey voice filled her head. The voice belonged to a boy, his voice full of worry and urgency.
"I'll have Katie disable the cameras, which will only give me enough time to reprogram one Griever. Only one, B. Understand?"
"Of course I understand. But are you sure you wanna do this?" This time it was Blake talking instead of the boy.
"Yeah, I'm sure...I hate to say it but I'm going to miss this place."
Then, Blake saw imagines of moving figures. The boy was in front of her, his light brown hair was slicked back, chopped short, shinny, and clean. He was handsome, looking to be around the age of nineteen.
"I'm not. Bad memories haunt these halls, and I don't think I could watch innocent kids get picked off one by one."
The boy nodded. "Yeah, I know. You're too good, B. That's why you can't underestimate the Scorch. I was out there a bit longer before getting myself stuck here. And what if Wicked comes after us."
"They'll have bigger problems to worry about."
"I hope you're right."
The boy looked up, his narrow hazel, golden eyes glaring at Blake with intensity. She could tell she had a strange connection for the boy at the time.
"You know we might be doing this all for nothing."
Blake shook her head, crossing her arms.
"I know what I heard. Ryan, they have something planned for me. I think it has something to do with the Maze, and even if it's not, better safe than sorry."
Ryan put his hands up in defense. "Okay, okay. Which Griever is it going to be? We should probably reprogram one of the Grievers who always hangs near the doors, right?"
"Do Griever GA7."
***
Blake took a sharp breath in. Sure this memory wasn't helpful in defense of the Grievers' weakness, but it did help Blake understand. Understand she was trying to escape, but from who? The Creators? Wicked? Is this how Ryan was killed?
She had knew. She had knew the Gladers were going to get picked off, one by one. She choose to run instead of fighting, but tonight, she wasn't going to run—she was going to fight. Blake was tired of running.
Soon, the Gathering was finished and Newt came out of the Homestead. The blond boy spotted them and approached at a limping run. Blake gave Newt a questioning look as he finally came to a halt, crossing his arms over his chest. "This is bloody nuts, you know that, right?" His face was stone. Unreadable, but there was a hint of victory in his dark eyes.
Thomas stood up, excitement playing on his face. "So they agreed to go?"
Newt nodded. "All of them. Wasn't as hard as I thought it'd be. Those shanks've seen what happens at night with those bloody Doors open. We can't get out of the stupid Maze. Gotta try something." He turned and looked at the Keepers, who'd started to assemble their groups. "Now we just have to convince the Gladers."
"You think they'll go for it?" Teresa asked, standing to join them.
"Not all of them," Newt said, frustration filling his eyes. "Some'll stay and take their chances—guarantee it."
Blake nodded, thinking of Hawk. "Let's just hope they put one their big boy pants."
"What about Alby?" Thomas asked.
"Who knows?" Newt responded, looking around the Glade, not making eye contact with anyone. "I'm convinced that bugger really is more scared to go back home than he is of the Grievers. But I'll get him to go with us, don't worry."
"How are you going to convince him?" Thomas's eyebrows knitted together.
Newt laughed. "I'll make up some klunk. Tell him we'll all find a new life in another part of the world, live happily ever after."
Thomas shrugged. "Well, maybe we can. I promised Chuck I'd get him home, you know. Or at least find him a home."
"Yeah, well," Teresa murmured. "Anything's better than this place."
Blake looked around at the arguments breaking in the small circles of the groups. The Keepers looked like they were trying their best to convince people, making promises, telling them they should take a chance and battle their way through the Griever Hole. Some Gladers refused and stomped away, but most seemed to listen and at least consider.
"So what's next?" Teresa asked.
Newt took a deep breath. "Figure out who's going, who's staying. Get ready. Food, weapons, all that. Then we go. Thomas, I'd put you in charge since it was your idea, but it's going to be hard enough to get people on our side without making the Greenie our leader—no offense. So just lay low, okay? We'll leave the code business to you and Teresa—you can handle that from the background."
"You sure make it sound easy," Thomas said, his voice sounding high pitched than normal.
Newt folded his arms again and looked at him closely. "Like you said—stay here, one shank'll die tonight. Go, one shank'll die. What's the difference?" He pointed at Thomas. "If you're right."
"I am." Thomas said, defensively.
"Better be," Blake mumbled to herself.
Newt clapped Thomas on the back. "Good that. Let's get to work."
The next few hours were frantic. Utter chaos.