⁰⁰ ▇  ¨. ༢ ͎۪۫  𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆 ... ❜

━━ ❛ the 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆
𝒔𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒎.  ❜ ‧˖˚. ☄︎ ͎۪۫  ◞⁺.
❪ part 02. location: the maze.
©kiiizones, all rights reserved ❫.

             𝑻𝑯𝑬𝒀 𝑯𝑨𝑫 𝑩𝑬𝑬𝑵 walking for what felt like hours. Walking, Emis thought, was a light way to put it. By now, their feet were almost dragging to catch up, every step with Alby's weight on their shoulders slowing them down. Dawn had broken, the sky was no longer a cold, deep electric blue. Blotches of pink and gold and orange streamed across the skyline like watercolour paints. The air carried with it the faint stench of rot and gasoline and warm, damp concrete, like the workings of an old, abandoned factory. It was freezing, what heat that had been trapped between the walls had now dissipated, and Emis could feel the cold, despite her indifference to the temperature earlier.

Alby seemed to grow heavier as time went by. It appeared that everything artificial about her had switched off — there was no strength. No adrenaline rush. No block from the cold. Emis felt the most human she had felt since she woke up in the Box. It was refreshing, but in a way, exhausting. Every part of her hurt, her arms and legs had started to ache, her head felt like someone had wrung her brain out, and shoved it back inside her skull the wrong way round.

The Maze was still thick with the sounds of teeming life, the heavy vines crawling with termites and cicadas and crickets. Every so often there would be the huge echoing thud of a wall slotting into place, the Maze changing. There hadn't been anymore Grievers, which Emis was thankful for — if a Griever were to spring them now, she doubted they'd have a chance. Especially with Alby's deadweight on their shoulders.

She had tried to channel her exhaustion into power, inhale, brace, exhale, then lift an inch. It had been a successful technique so far, but she could only run on empty for so long.

She cast her mind back, grimacing as it replayed the image of her hands shooting out in front of her, the Griever clattering onto the floor, a long, sharp blade slicing a huge gash into the side of her arm. She swallowed thickly. It hurt to think about that.

"How far to go?" She managed, trying to change the subject, taking a huge gulp of sweaty, cool air, and resisting the urge to gag as the scent of burnt oil invaded her senses.

"Not far now." Minho said shortly, cutting himself off to take a breath. He walked just a little ways in front of them, Alby's ankles gripped either side of his waist. "We're almost there." His voice had a sharp edge to it. Like he was determined not to give up. Emis heard Thomas breathe a heavy sigh of relief.

"You better not be kidding." He said gruffly. Minho chuckled, out of breath.

"Honestly," he swallowed, "you two are a lucky pair o' Shanks. And shuck miserable too — anyone'd be glad to have survived a night —" he broke off as he took a gulp of breath, "—a night in the Maze." He finished, breathing out. There was a pause. "You should be celebrating!" He said, tone phoney and all fake-happy.

"I'll celebrate when we get out of here." Emis muttered. She heard him laugh again.

"Alright. I see, I see." He let out a low chuckle. "Man, I like you Emis. You're crazy, but —"

"Thanks." She cut him off, wanting to end the conversation as quickly as possible. All this talking was wasting precious energy. And the world had started to tilt sideways. "It's a one-sided thing."

He sighed, hoisting Alby's legs up higher around his waist. "I can't tell if you're trying to get me mad, or just being annoying in general."

Emis swallowed down air, trying to breathe in as much oxygen as possible. The dizziness was back — it had started coming in waves about an hour ago, but with every wave it seemed to get more and more difficult to manage. "I think the word you're looking for," she bit back, closing her eyes momentarily, "is intriguing."

He laughed out loud at that. "Yeah," he said. "Definitely annoying."

She ignored him. Her arms had gone limp, all of a sudden. She groaned as the blood rushed all the way up to her head. Suddenly she slipped, losing her footing, and swayed dangerously to the side, slamming into the wall next to her. Alby rolled off of her shoulders and crashed to the floor, pulling Thomas and Minho down with him.

"Emis —!" Thomas started, but she cut him off, trying to straighten up.

"I'm fine." She said, and then doubled over, throwing up. It tasted like petrol and smoke as it came up, splashing thick and dark like tar against the floor and up the side of the wall. She groaned.

Minho got to his feet. "Yep," he said, "that seems just fine to me."

"Emis, what's happening?" Thomas asked, coming to stand a little ways off from her. She crouched down, scraping back her hair away from her face as she tried to get the oxygen back into her lungs.

"I don't know," she said, wincing. It was suddenly painful to talk. She brought a hand up to her throat, and found it was burning hot. "I don't —"

"It's not far." Minho broke in. "D'you think you can walk it?"

"I haven't broken my shuck legs," she snapped. Ow. Bad idea. "I'm fine." She stood up, trying to ignore the world as it continued to tilt sideways. "I probably just —" she wiped her mouth. "Probably just accidentally swallowed some of that — some of whatever Thomas stepped in earlier." Stop talking, stop talking. Talking hurts.

Minho wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Nice." He said.

She ignored him. "We should get going." She went to take up Alby's arm again.

"Emis, are you —"

"We're wasting our time." She said, exhaustedly. "Let's just get out of here."

"Yeah. I can get behind that." Thomas moved to take up Alby's other arm. He glanced at Minho.

"I'll lead the way then," he sighed. "But if you die, Emis, it's one hundred percent not my fault." He knelt down, hoisting Alby's legs up around his waist again. "Make sure to tell Newt that so he doesn't, like—" Minho shuddered. "Actually, I don't know what he'd do to me if you didn't make it. Emis, for my sake don't die."

"Minho," Thomas said, casting another anxious glance in Emis's direction. "Shut up?"

"Right." Minho cleared his throat. "Let's go, shall we?"

The remainder of the journey dragged on as the air began to lighten. The huge, dark shadows that had fallen in against the corners of the walls had begun to disappear. Every minute stretched on for as long as it could. Emis felt with every step the churning, writhing pit of snakes inside her stomach threaten to come back up again. She could hear her heartbeat slamming, echoing around inside her head. She felt her eyes close, gritting her teeth.

"Emis?" Thomas's voice wavered only slightly. Her eyes snapped open, and suddenly everything was tinted red again.

"Keep going." She tried to say, but it came out raw and scratchy. She fought the urge to whimper— the red-tint and lopsided world made for a killing headache. Like the snakes had moved from her stomach to settle in a pit underneath her skull.

"Last push, Emis." Minho said, breathless from the front. They'd picked up speed slightly, and Emis could feel her feet dragging against the stone floor, trailing behind her like they couldn't quite keep up. "This is the last corner, up here."

"You can do this." Thomas said from beside her. She felt her stomach lurch, swallowing back bile that tasted less like bile and more like arsenic. "How far now, Minho?" He asked, shooting Emis another anxious glance.

"Last turn here." Minho said breathlessly, leading them left down the last passageway. It came to an end, throwing them around the corner, and suddenly Emis could hear a low, deep rumbling. There was a dull, hollow crack. Then the loud echoing sound of walls, so close by, dragging apart — it seemed to wake something up in her. Minho was right. They were a corner away from making it.

Despite the headache, and the numb, static feeling beginning to settle in her arms, Emis heaved, inhaling sharply, and then shifted so that more than half of Alby's weight was now on her shoulders. Her eyes cleared enough for her to regain her balance, and suddenly the world was tilting back, slotting into place.

"Emis —!" Thomas began, but she cut him off.

"Shut up." She said, concentrating only on fuelling every ounce of strength she had left into keeping Alby off the ground. Minho chuckled from ahead.

"Better listen to her, Greenie." He said breathlessly, adjusting Alby's ankles around his waist. "Seems she's not jacked enough to give up, just yet."

"Yeah, yeah." Thomas cut back, but he sounded more relieved than offended. "I get it." He made a grunt of effort, straightening his back as he tried to hoist Alby a little higher.

Emis felt the tightness in her chest relieve slightly — she couldn't smell only concrete and oil and rot, anymore. Now the air had begun to turn sweet, like wet grass and rain and fruit that was slightly too ripe. The sound of the doors opening seemed to release a magnetic pulse, drawing them closer, quickening the pace.

The red tint to the world flared off again, and with a last burst of energy they turned the last corner.

She felt her heart swell in her chest. They were there, standing, waiting as the doors opened. All of them— Chuck, Ed. Newt.

So concentrated on escaping, on getting back, Emis hadn't had the chance to give him a thought. She felt her heart expanding, pulse quickening. Overcome with the need to cross the heavy stone threshold, she gave a last push, and suddenly her feet were sinking into wet soil and mud, all the smog and sweat from the air had cleared from her lungs, and she almost felt dizzy from the fresh oxygen filtering back into her bloodstream.

Alby was handed over, and laid gently onto the ground. Emis glanced up, eyes searching frantically for Newt. She wanted to tell him everything — what she'd seen, what she'd done. The Griever, the Maze. But when she locked eyes with him, he barely gave her notice. Looking straight through her to Thomas, and Minho. She swallowed, feeling her chest sink. He didn't seem happy to see her. He didn't seem to see her at all, at that.

"You saw a Griever?" Chuck asked hesitantly, after the shouts had died down. Thomas swallowed.

"Yeah," he said, after a beat. "I saw one."

Emis heard Ed inhale sharply from beside her, going tense.

"He didn't just see it." Minho said, as if he couldn't believe Thomas had just narrowed it down. Like it wasn't a big deal. "He killed it."

There was a moment of static, excited silence as the words hit. And then suddenly a roar of questions, like nobody could wait. Emis felt someone thump her hard on the back in congratulations, and winced. She felt her stomach wrench, breathing in harshly.

"Hey! Hey, guys!" A loud voice cut in over the racket. A small, scrawny boy came parting through the crowd, standing, breathless like he'd ran a mile, in front of Newt. "It's Gally." He said, "He wants us all at the Council Hall."

"He what?" Newt turned to face him properly. "What're you on about?"

The boy shook his head, trying to gulp in more air. "He didn't say much. Just that it —" he breathed in again, "just that it has something to do with you." And he pointed at Thomas.

Newt sighed. "Right. You heard him. Gathering in five minutes, I s'pose."

"But, Newt —" Minho interjected, but was cut off.

"I said five minutes!" Newt shot back. "Go on, get to. Clint —"

"We got it." Clint said, bracing to heave Alby's weight up off the ground. Emis sympathised. Alby wasn't exactly light.

"Good that." Newt turned to part through the still-building crowd. News had obviously spread fast. The shouting picked up again, and Emis had to push past a thickening crowd of sweaty, clammy hands and pats on the back to finally reach him.

He was muttering to himself as she called out to him. "Newt!" He ignored her, continuing to walk towards the Council Hall. He didn't even spare her a glance. Gritting her teeth with agitation, Emis put on a burst of speed, ignoring the sharp, stabbing pain in her stomach, and darted in front of him, blocking his path. She half-expected him to walk around her, but he stopped, finally.

"Any reason as to why you're avoiding me?" She asked, folding her arms in front of her chest.

He didn't crack a smile. "Go get Jeff to fix you up." He said, "He can give you something for the headache."

She blinked at him. "You —"

"Go, Emis. You've caused enough trouble already, alright?" Emis recoiled, feeling her heart drop. He gave her a look, an unreadable expression, and then made to walk past her.

She twisted fast, catching onto his wrist. "Hey, Newt!" She demanded. "What the hell is going on?"

"You want to tell me, Emis?" He fired back, wrenching his arm free. He turned to face her, chest rising and falling with heated anger. Suddenly, the block in his speech had dissipated. "Why don't you tell me? Tell me why you — you have a death wish? You want danger, you live off adrenaline —"

"Newt—" she tried to cut in, but he had rounded on her now, eyes sharp.

"— you have no regard for the rules, no regard for the others, no regard for anyone but yourself, including me —"

"Newt! You —"

"— all you care about is making a mess! Breaking the rules, having a scrap! This is all fun, fun and games to you, what — did you think — did you think we'd be out in a couple of days? Back to your mum and dad and safe warm bed before the week was up? Are you, are you getting bored? Bored of us? Bored of me—?"

"Newt, I —" Emis felt herself shrinking, like he was suddenly towering over her. "You —"

"It bloody well looks like it, the only one of us who seems to interest you is bloody Thomas —"

"Newt, just shut up!" He went still, the shrill tone of her voice shutting him up. "Just stop. Please."

He blinked at her, shaking his head as if waking from an unpleasant dream. "Emis —"

"I'm going to find Jeff." She said, feeling her nerves starting to rattle, the achy static coming back to her arms. "I'll —" she breathed in. "I'll see you at the Gathering."

"Emis —" he tried again, but overcome with exhaustion, and the fact that she didn't want him to see the tears in her eyes, she moved quickly, walking fast towards the Med-Hut. His words kept playing, over and over, like a stuck record. No regard for anyone but yourself —all you care about is making a mess! She inhaled sharply again, gritting her teeth. He was right. Of course he was right.

The Med Centre was dark, dark and quiet when she entered. She heard the sounds of struggling coming from an alcove just behind the entrance, and, swallowing, she crept round the corner to steal a glance. Newt's words washed momentarily from her head as she felt her heart drop for the umpteenth time that day.

Alby was lying, strapped stuck to a huge slab of wood, tied down with ropes. He had woken up, and was breathing sharply and violently, like Ben had been. His eyes had gone bloodshot, foaming at the mouth, and his whole body was so tense and so desperate to break free it made Emis's skin crawl. She dreaded the thought of what would happen if he did break free. He was Stung. Minho's words came back to her. She shivered. How many more would it take? How many before Chuck got Stung? Before Newt got Stung?

She backtracked. Thinking of Newt made the pain in her chest intensify a little too much.

She felt the shadow of something move past her, and Clint was there, all of a sudden, hands cradling Alby's head gently. There was a moment, where he looked as if he were thinking very hard about something. And then suddenly Alby fell limp. Lifeless. Unconscious.

Emis blinked. "What was —"

"Pressure points." Clint cut in. "You just gotta know where they are," he wiped his hands on a cloth, "and then you can just send 'em straight to sleep." He snapped his fingers. "Like that."

She swallowed. "How long will it last?" She asked. He shrugged.

"Long enough for us to finish tying him down." Emis jumped. Jeff had materialised from nowhere, standing next to her. He was holding a belt of ropes in his hands. He chucked it at Clint. "Come on." He said. "I'll bet you need some meds, right about now."

She gave him a weak smile. "Thanks." She said.

He led her into the other room, the small, closed in hut made of sticks that had practically become her bedroom, she had frequented it so often. Jeff motioned for her to sit down, so she did. As soon as her weight shifted off of her legs she felt a wave roll down her spine, coming to rest at her ankles. Hyper—energy or hyper-exhaustion. Neither one was good.

"Here." Jeff said, opening the cupboard on the steel nightstand and rummaging around until he found a bottle of pills. "Damn it." He said. "Almost out."

"Did you use them on someone else?"

"Ed." He shook two out of the bottle and they landed in his open palm. "After he got sliced."

"How did he —?"

"The Maze is full o' tricks, Emis." Jeff handed her the pills and a tin mug filled with water. "That's why it's so dangerous."

"Was it a Griever?" She took the pills, swallowing hard and breathing sharp through her nose. The nausea had started to come back.

He shook his head. "Nope. Would've been dead, otherwise. No idea how you survived, but," he shrugged. "Well done, I guess."

She wiped her mouth, setting the cup down. "Thanks." It sounded pathetic. "And thanks for the meds."

He shrugged. "Like I said, it's my job." He put the pill bottle back inside the cupboard, then took out a clipboard and scribbled something onto it. He closed the cabinet door. "Now," he said. "We best get outta here. Gally won't like that you're late."

Right. Gally. "Yeah." She said. He chuckled at her.

"Don't sound so worried. Gally's not gonna do anything serious— Newt wouldn't let him."

"Right." Emis stood up. She was sure that whatever Gally had in mind, it didn't come close to what Newt thought.

The Council Hall was packed, like before. Almost everyone was here, squashed in tight, craning their necks to get a good look at Thomas. Emis winced. It was so loud, like everything had started to become amplified. She could hear at least fifty different conversations going off at once.

"Hey, Emis." It was Ed. He was grinning at her. "Come to see the show?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure." Ed laughed.

"Well, you got a front seat, pal." He said, "come on."

He led her through the crowd, and Emis felt her heart sink as he went to stand her next to Newt. Great. Ed took a seat next to her, extending his leg out in front of him. It had almost healed. He was oblivious, obviously, to what was going on behind him.

She glanced at Newt, and he was staring directly at her, eyebrows knitted together with worry. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but Gally's loud, echoing voice cut him off.

"Things are changing." There was a heavy pause. The room had filled with staticky silence, save only for the sounds of the fire torch, in the corner against the wall. "There's no denying that." It was as if the entire room was holding its breath.

"First Emis," he said, and she felt Newt shift beside her. "Up in the Box a day early? And then Ben, gets stung in broad daylight. And now Alby." Emis felt Newt's hand, suddenly, swing down from where he'd had his arms crossed, to rest next to hers. She glanced at him — he was leaning against one of the tall, thick wooden poles that helped to suspend the roof of the Council Hall. His posture was relaxed, but the space of air between their hands had filled with an electric, nervous current. Emis felt the stabbing pain sharp in her stomach once again.

"And now our Greenie here," Gally continued, "has taken it upon himself, to go into the Maze." There was a pause. Emis raised an eyebrow. Ouch. No mention, no nothing. Had she not gone in as well? "Which is a clear violation of our rules here." Gally went on.

"Yeah," Frypan cut in, "but, he saved Alby's life."

"Did he?" Gally challenged him, as if the fact that they'd risked their lives to save Alby was insignificant. Emis felt her veins go cold, a sweat beginning to break out on her forehead. "For three years," Gally went on, "we've co—existed with these things. And now—" he turned to point his hand at Thomas, who was sat, at the back on another lump of wood. "— you've killed one of them." He turned to address the room as a whole again. "Who knows what that might mean for us?"

"Well, what do you suggest we do?" Newt said from beside Emis, shifting. Gally raised his eyebrows at him, shrugging.

"He has to be punished."

Immediately, voices burst back into life. Emis felt her chest beginning to shrink, the faint, dizzy feeling coming back. The world had started to tilt again. So much for the pain-killers.

"What about Emis?" Ryan cut in. It went silent. "Gally, come on. Nobody's buying this. We all saw her go in, just the same as Thomas. In fact," he stood up. "I'm pretty sure she went in first."

"I dragged her in with me." Thomas interrupted. Emis heard Newt sigh from beside her. "It's my fault."

Gally gave Newt a pointed look. "You see?" Ryan scowled, sitting back down again. His attempt at throwing Emis under the bus had failed, once again.

Newt bit the corner of his lip, thinking. Finally, he spoke, breaking the silence. "Minho," he said, "you were there with 'em, what do you think?"

Minho shifted, straightening up. "I think," he began slowly, locking eyes with Newt. "That in all the time we've been here, no one's ever killed a Griever before."

There were a few nods. Emis could taste bile again, bitter and acidic. The sweat had broken out and started to thicken, creating a thick film of it across her forehead. Minho went on.

"When I turned tail and ran, these two shanks stayed behind to help Alby." He shook his head, looking at Gally, "Look, I don't know if they're brave, or stupid." There was another beat. "But whatever it is, we need more of it." He waited a moment, weighing up the words he was about to say. He breathed out.

"I say, we make make 'em Runners."

Immediately there was an uproar. Emis felt the rush of noise collide hard with the inside of her skull, her surroundings starting to blur into a mess of colour and light. She shut her eyes hard, trying to blink away the dizziness. It was impossible. Snakes in her stomach, snakes in her head, ice and fire coursing through her veins. Emis could taste the gag in the back of her throat, chest tightening and emptying of air.

"If you want to throw the Greenie a parade," Gally yelled, "that's fine. Go ahead." His voice silenced the echo, but Emis could barely hear him now. Like she'd suddenly fallen underwater, and everything had begun to blur into a mix of uninterpretable sound and  colour. "But," he went on. "If there's one thing I know about the Maze, it is that you do not —"

Emis felt her legs give out again. She swayed forwards, crashing into the sand, and her breathing had turned short, short and quick and erratic, like Ben's. Or Alby's. "Emis!" Newt turned her gently onto her back, scraping the hair and sand out of her face.

Her eyes snapped open, a harsh, warning red. Newt blanched, kneeling up. "Emis, here, God . . ." Newt took her head onto his lap, "just breathe. Nice and calm, alright, what's wrong?"

But she had drifted away. She couldn't hear him, couldn't see him. She was falling, down, spiralling into empty, dark air. She could feel it streaking out underneath her, stinging her eyes. Though she was blind, her eyes were still open. And it was impossible to close them.

Newt watched as Emis's eyes rolled back into her head, bloodshot and darkening redder by the second. Like they were glowing. Sucking in a breath, he watched as her mouth began to open, and threw himself back. Her head thumped heavily onto the floor. "Cover your ears!" Newt yelled, throwing himself as far back as possible. Her mouth opened fully.

What came from her wasn't human. It was a swarm, the heavy, static feedback of a thousand screams, overlapping and overlapping, twisted and distorted and the loudest it had ever been, and so powerful, it ripped her back clean off the floor, as if she was sat up. The tar came up, gasoline and smoke and pitch, a fountain that drenched her chest in black ink as it spurted from the back of her throat. Blood streamed from her split lips, out of her nose, her ears. Everywhere.

It cut itself out, choking off, and she slumped onto her side, crashing back into the sand again. Blood and black vomit pooled onto the floor, the red rash clear and harsh and systematic on her throat, huge red blocks that rose up like hives up over her collarbone and up to just underneath her jaw.

There was a moment of thick, stunned silence. Slowly, Newt lowered his hands from his ears. "Emis?" He asked, voice cracking. Nobody moved, nobody spoke. Nobody breathed.

There was a twitch, like her body had momentarily come back to life again. Her eyes opened, but her gaze was still and unfocused. Her mouth began to open again, but no sound came. There was a moment, filled with silence, where nothing happened.

And then she spoke, but it wasn't her voice, it was another voice, a cold, empty, emotionless voice. "We told you not to lose control."

And she was still falling, down as the world melted away, the black plunging into even darker, and nothing, nothing could stop her as her back slammed into the floor, and shattered into a thousand pieces.

     ⁰⁰ ❛ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 . . .☄︎ ⋆࿐໋ ˖

that was so exciting to write im ngl. sorry abt the late update, like i said it's unlikely i'll be able to post everyday because of work && im also ill, lmao. i really hope u enjoyed that chapter, it starts to get super exciting from this point onwards . . . oh and a warning for the next chap: ur not even close to being ready. ;) also sksksk dedicated to my bby because she's been getting better & im so proud of her, uwu. thank u all so much for reading — im so so grateful for your lovely feedback, it's so wonderful reading ur comments!! tysm! ‧⁺◟( ᵒ̴̶̷̥́ ·̫ ᵒ̴̶̷̣̥̀ )

love, 𝒓𝒊𝒓𝒊. *♡・.