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11 times 4 equals 44 which is the number of this chapter there's your math for the day you're welcome stay in school

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My stomach was churning in the worst ways possible as Newt and I walked to the mouth of the West Door. Minho, Teresa, Thomas, and Chuck were already there. They conversed in hushed, anxious whispers that only amplified my nerves.

Thomas stepped back from the group and gave me as big of a smile as he could muster. "You okay?"

I scoffed halfheartedly. "Not at all. I'm terrified."

"Amen, sister," Minho said, though his expression contradicted his words. He appeared cool and collected even in the face of danger. I tried to mimic his confidence.

"Dude, she's my sister," Thomas joked with his face now completely serious. I managed a small grin.

But that smile soon faded and slipped off into lighter days, wafting up into the sky and replaced with a grim expression. As the crowd grew denser, my pulse quickened. I hadn't been lying when I said I was terrified. The fear was consuming me. Encasing me. Threatening to split me in two.

The anxiety was palpable, and the tension was so thick it could be sliced with one of Winston's butcher knives. The gloomy, blank sky above now seemed like a thoroughly appropriate backdrop. It almost was like it was sucking the happiness out of everyone and replacing it with fear.

Newt called for silence. In his hand was a backpack stuffed to the brim with supplies; he slung it onto his back. In the other hand was a pole wrapped in barbed wire at the top. "There're forty-two of us. Make sure you've got your weapons. Other than that, isn't a lot whole lot to buggin' say - you've all been told to plan. We're gonna fight our way through to the Griever Hole, and Tommy here's gonna punch in his little magic code and then we're gonna get payback on the Creators. Simple as that."

He sounded sure of himself, but there was a barely detectable waver near the end. His guarded brown eyes met mine. I gave him a steady nod of encouragement.

"Shouldn't someone give a pep talk or something?" Minho asked. He stood adjacent to Newt, hands clutching the straps of his own backpack as they always did.

"Thought that was our pep talk," Garret piped up with his eyebrows slightly pinched together.

Newt nodded to the Keeper of the Runners. "Go ahead."

Minho nodded as well and faced the crowd, face full of pride. "Be careful. Don't die."

I almost snorted. Those two sentences were the most Minho thing he had ever said.

"Great. We're all bloody inspired," Newt answered quizzically, clearly having expected more than that. He jabbed a thumb toward the Maze behind him. "You all know the plan. After two years of being treated like mice, tonight we're making a stand. Tonight we're taking the fight back to the Creators, no matter what we have to go through to get there. Tonight the Grievers better be scared."

That was when the smile gradually fought its way onto my lips. There's our pep talk.

A person cheered. Another followed. Eventually, the air filled with determined battle cries. They roared in my ears and grew even louder as I joined in on them. My body hummed with adrenaline. We'd end this once and for all.

Newt thrust his weapon into the air and shouted, "Hear that, Creators? We're coming!"

He turned and sprinted into the Maze, limp barely noticeable. All around me boys raised their own makeshift weapons and joined him. They darted into the corridors, voices echoing off the high stone walls.

And I ran.

Sure, I'd run the Maze before. I remembered bits and pieces of where I was going. But this was a total contrast to what I had been accustomed to. Surrounded by a hoard of Gladers, I moved at a steady pace, fueled by the nervous energy buzzing in my veins.

As we turned a corner, realization struck me. Newt was at the head of the crowd. Thomas and Minho were somewhere near me. How did he know where he was going?

As if he sensed my thoughts, Newt dropped back. He was panting, sweat already glistening on his forehead and dampening his hair. I saw him tap Minho on the shoulder. "You lead the way now."

And lead Minho did. He sprinted to the very front and guided us through the confusing mass of corridors. I wondered how he felt about this. He ran in the Maze every day, but now he was directing the Glade toward its exit.

Every passing minute, I worried about someone else. How was Newt holding up? I had lost him in the mayhem. Where was Chuck? Theo? Teresa? Garret? So many people weren't used to running for this long, and I was proud of them for pushing themselves.

While the first hour came to the end, we reached an alley that was vaguely familiar. I surveyed my surroundings briefly. Then it clicked- this was the last turn before the Cliff.

I couldn't believe it. It all seemed way too easy. Where were the Variables? Surely the Creators wouldn't let us go this easily.

Sure enough, I was right.

Just before the turn, Minho skidded to a stop and held out his hand. Gladers crashed and knocked into one another as we all tried to cease our momentum so quickly. Minho ordered for silence. "Do you hear that?"

Quiet. Since I was in the center, I couldn't see anything over the tall boys standing around me. I was left in frustrating oblivion.

"Oh, no," Minho groaned. "Oh, no."

Like that was a cue, I heard them. Griever sounds. Clicking, whirring, and clacking filled my ears and turned into liquid terror that was ice-cold and heavy in my veins. My heart sped up and my hands began to sweat.

I wasn't ready. I'd never be ready.

"There's at least a dozen of them. Maybe fifteen," Minho announced. I barely heard him with the amplitude of his voice. "They're just waiting for us."

In that moment, I was grateful that I couldn't see. I didn't want to face the stark reality of the monsters before us. I desired to sink into the ground beneath my feet and pool up there. I didn't want to fight those Grievers.

Newt passed by me and grabbed my hand. He pulled me along with him as he made his way to the front, fingers warm compared to my own cold and clammy ones. Each step toward the corner made my heart increase its pace. Soon it was pounding so furiously that I thought my ribs would bruise.

Alby was already by Minho. Thomas had also come up there as well at some point. They both examined Newt and I as we came forward. Alby looked slightly surprised to see the terror so apparent on my face.

"Well, we knew we'd have to fight." Newt tried to sound strong, but again the quiver in his voice made it known that he was more afraid than he was letting on. I gave his hand a squeeze of reassurance. I wasn't sure that it did much, but he seemed grateful for the gesture.

Thomas appeared as if a light bulb had gone off in his brain. "Maybe they've already taken a kid back in the Glade. Maybe we can get past them- why else would they just be sitting-"

A shrieking sound cut him off, making my eardrums pierce with the pain it brought. We spun around to see Grievers darting down the corridor toward us. Their metal arms groped around and the spikes on their fat bodies flared at us restlessly. Panic consumed me as my eyes shifted quickly from creature to creature wildly.

We were trapped.

The enemy was on all sides of us. The Gladers surged toward us in the midst of terror, causing us to move out into the open from behind the safety of the corner. The Grievers watched. They waited.

The Gladers compressed into a tighter pack; I was squished between Alby and Newt. The latter was trembling, fingers shaking as he gripped onto my hand. No one made a sound. The Grievers were exceptions- they definitely let themselves be known with their eerie groans and loud clinks of machinery.

Thomas glanced wearily at Newt. "Got any ideas?"

"No," Newt replied in a tremulous tone. He swallowed thickly. "I don't understand what they're bloody waitin' for."

"We shouldn't have come," Alby said, almost as an afterthought. His voice sounded distant from his body as he fixed his blank stare on the monsters before us.

Thomas looked slightly annoyed. "Well, we'd be no better off in the Homestead. Hate to say it, but if one of us dies, it's better than all of us."

A long moment of silence passed. I shifted my weight and adjusted the poorly-constructed weapon in my hand. It was basically just a wooden pole fashioned into a point at the end, and it was heavy to carry with one arm. Newt's hand was getting slick on mine.

"Maybe I should..." Alby trailed off, walking toward the Cliff in almost slow motion, as if he were in a trance.

"Alby?" Newt called. "Get back here!"

I couldn't believe what I was seeing- I felt like I was going to be sick. My eyes, widened to the max, followed Alby's every movement as he broke into a run, headed straight for the Grievers between us and the Cliff.

"Alby!" Newt screamed helplessly, watching with tears pricking at his eyes as his longest friend jumped on top of the closest Griever. He released my hand and ran after Alby. My heart seemed to stop.

But almost as soon as he had let go, I was bolting after him, trying to prevent him from getting harmed from trying to save someone who couldn't be helped. My hands reached blindly for his shirt, his arms, anything I could grasp. Finally my hands found his midsection and I managed to pull us to a complete stop.

"Let go!" Newt ordered as he tried to break free of my grip.

"No!" I protested, ducking away from his elbows that jabbed close to my face as he struggled. "I promised you that I wouldn't run after another to save them, no matter who they were. Now it's your turn to promise me."

Thomas hurried over to assist me in holding Newt back. Gradually, his efforts to run after Alby ceased and he merely watched as two more Grievers pounced on Alby. They tore at any piece of him they could reach - his legs, his arms, his skin - almost like they wanted to rub it in that they had him and we didn't.

My stomach twisted into horrible knots and I forced myself to look away from the scene. But Newt stayed staring at the spot that his friend had disappeared, empty eyes filled with despondency.

"I can't believe it," Newt whispered as he shook his head. "I can't believe he just did that."

Minho came over with a thoroughly disturbed look on his face. He squeezed Newt's shoulder. "We can't waste what he did. We'll fight 'em if we have to, make a path to the Cliff for Thomas and Teresa. Get in the Hole and do your thing- we'll keep them off until you scream for us to follow."

Thomas surveyed the three sets of Grievers and nodded in understanding. "Hopefully they'll go dormant for a while. We should only need a minute or so to punch the code."

Newt's hand slowly crept over and slid into mine again. I shifted my attention from the others to him, focusing on how crumpled he appeared. It was like he had been smashed and reconstructed again and again, but now they couldn't get the pieces to fit just right. I couldn't even begin to explain his eyes. They stared at that same spot and looked as if they were a void of empty space, the events of what just happened playing over and over like a broken record in his brain.

His voice came out cracked and in a murmur. "How can you guys be so heartless?"

"What do you want, Newt?" Minho demanded, seemingly virtually uninterested. "Should we all dress up and have a funeral?"

I scoffed at the Keeper's harsh words and finally brought myself to look at the mess that was Alby. One glimpse of crimson red flesh had me turning away again in an instant. I felt a chill inch down my spine and encase me with cold.

But it wasn't fear this time. It was the cold, sharp fist of death.

Minho continued. "Alby didn't want to go back to his old life. He freaking sacrificed himself for us and they aren't attacking, so maybe it worked. We'd be heartless if we wasted it."

Newt only shrugged and closed his eyes. I felt a jab in my chest.

Minho turned and faced the group. "Listen up! Number one priority is to protect Thomas and Teresa. Get them to the Cliff and the Hole so-"

He was cut off by the mechanical sounds of the Grievers whirring to life. Like a veil had been shrouded over us up until then, they all seemed to notice us simultaneously. Their metal appendages inched in and out of their bodies as they crept toward us at a slow and steady pace. Haunting groans emitted from wherever their mouths were; it was hard to tell in the blobs that made up their bodies.

All of my insides churned into some horrible mixture. I felt like I was going to throw up with how much sheer terror that was consuming me. It was freezing up my bones, tensing up my muscles, and slowing down my brain. I no longer seemed to notice the large crowd around me. It was just me and those Grievers.

I vaguely heard Teresa and Newt frantically yelling, trying to come up with some sort of plan. They sounded like they were underwater or speaking through a blocked-off tunnel. Everything was fuzzy.

"You lead," Newt may have said to Minho. "Make a bloody path for Tommy and the girl. Do it."

But Minho was taking too long. Every nerve that had been shut down now sparked alive with a zap of energy. My heart increased its pace rapidly. My head was spinning- maybe I wasn't thinking, but all I could process was that the Grievers were gaining on us and no one was moving.

So I did.

I yanked my hand from Newt's and took off sprinting as fast as I could toward the Grievers that barricaded the Cliff. Minho might've said, "What the-" but I was moving too fast to hear him. The wind whistled in my ears and surrounded me as I came closer and closer to the monsters looming before me.

I could somehow sense that Newt was shouting, angrily accusing me of breaking my promise, but only if he knew that I wasn't. I had a plan. It was a very haphazardly created one, but at least it was something.

The Grievers' claws opened up to me as if I'd accepted defeat already. I tried to ignore the snapping of the metal as they inched closer and closer, instead focusing on my desired destination ahead. I tried not to think about how much it would hurt. I tried not to think about that this was a life-or-death situation, and if I messed up even a single bit, it'd be the latter.

The first Griever's claw snipped at my head and hovered there. Just as it was about to clamp down on me, I sucked in a breath, leaned back, fell, and allowed myself to slide on the rocky cement right under the Griever's body. I could feel the sting as the fabric of my jeans tore and the skin of my thigh and calf ripped open, shredding several layers of skin. I grit my teeth and waited until I was mostly beneath the Griever to reach up and stab the point of my wooden spear right in the soft spot beneath its belly.

The Griever let out a terrible scream of pain and rage. The pause to jab my weapon into the Griever had seriously decreased my momentum, and I was now stuck beneath it. Keeping my head low, I reached up and plucked the spear out of its stomach with grueling effort. The mechanical beast's stompy little legs scampered around and threatened to crush me as it teetered around and continued its wail.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, I scampered into the open and pushed myself to a standing position. My move had been the start of chaos. Terrible cries from Gladers and Grievers alike plagued the air and echoed off the walls. Kids were ruthlessly stabbing and hitting the ferocious things with their weapons. Sometimes I got the misfortune to see a boy get cudgeled. But with every lost Glader, there were four more fueled with enough rage to fight back.

"Dylan!"

Theo.

I turned around and wiped my forehead, adjusting my spear in my hand as he ran over. Theo looked exhausted as usual, with a constant expression of pain even with the slightest movement.

"Go into the Hole," I commanded as he came closer. "You're hurt and you shouldn't be out here."

Theo shook his head. "I'm fighting for my friends and our futures. If we-"

I let out a horrified yell as a Griever's claw came out of literally nowhere and picked Theo off of his feet. Before I could blink, it had started to sink the thrashing boy into its bubbly flesh.

I couldn't move. All the energy from before had come to a standstill. My brain was on lockdown. My feet were stuck to the floor; I didn't want them to be. I wanted to help!

Maybe that was when I finally understood how Newt felt. How he couldn't tear his eyes away from his best friend as he was being torn apart. I felt my heart plummeting into my stomach, detaching from all my arteries, and fall into nothing.

The bomb was ticking, ticking, ticking.

Without a word, Garret came zipping by. He sank his pointed pole deep into the Griever's skin and stepped back for a second as it shrieked in agonizing pain. Garret took that split second when the Griever was distracted to wring Theo out of its clutches. As soon as he was safe, the blond boy set him on the ground and forcibly rolled him in my direction. There wasn't much else he could do in such a short period of time.

I was finally able to move. My feet carried me over to Theo, who, aside from a few minor cuts on his body, was visibly unharmed. But then the mechanical whirs caused him to jump up and face the monster that had almost killed him.

It was too quick for any of us to anticipate. The wounded Griever reached out blindly and stuck its arm into Garret, not wasting any time in finishing him off this time. My knees buckled as Garret's body disappeared into its skin forever. All that was left of the boy was his weapon that clattered to the cement at the monster's feet.

"¡Hermano!" Theo screamed, voice full of raw pain and anguish. "Garret!"

He drew out those two words long enough to tear my heart in two. I pulled Theo into a hug as he choked on a sob and let the tears freely fall down his face, staring in trauma at the place where his friend had saved him and died. I felt my own tears sting at the corners of my eyes.

None of us would forget the sacrifices made that night.

gif is garret bc let's face it he was the real mvp of this chapter

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IM SO SAD I LOVE GARRET AW RIP YOU WERE A FINE SPECIMEN

sorry for the longish wait! i was super busy so i wrote a longer chapter to make up for it

questions:

-did you see that coming?

-how many of you thought theo was going to die?

-do you miss alby?

-for real, why is minho so dumb like HEY LET'S SHOUT AT THE TOP OF OUR LUNGS WHILE WE'RE SURROUNDED BY GRIEVERS WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG

-kristyn