Leo Short

"You feeling any better?" I ask. My hands unwrap the tight bandages around ankle. The skin beneath is red, and slightly swollen, but it seems to be doing better. Her ankle is less rigid, at that. Maybe it wasn't a break. At least, I hope it isn't. I've got nothing to fix her with.

Saph nods up and down, staring forward. Her eyes flicker up to mine, before they glance back down. "It doesn't hurt quite so much."

I nod. The night has practically swallowed the Earth whole. Most people who can sleep are doing so. I'm glad Saph is up as well, and not just me. The pain is probably getting to her. Rose and Hilde are up to watch, and though it is my turn later, I can't sleep now.

"It doesn't seem broken," I tell her, placing her ankle back on the ground. "So, you might just be lucky and have a sprain. You'll have to get someone else to help you walk until I can make you some sort of crutch. No running."

"I can't stop running," she tells me steadily.

I pause my work, leaning back to look at her. She glances down, averting my gaze. Her cheeks tinge pink. It's a look I find all too familiar. A look I'm sure I've given Dawn before.

"You were a Runner?" I ask, trying to keep the lines of communication open between us. "Before you left, I mean."

She shakes her head back and forth. "No, I wasn't. I was a Raiser. Took care of the animals. Marie and I are the only two of those left. She took care of plants."

I look around the room at the group. They've swindled down to less than half the originals.

"What were everyone's jobs?" I ask carefully, glancing around.

"It's mostly Runners left," she tells me, looking around at the group. "Only four weren't, anyway. Just us Raisers, and the two Builders. Misi and Sacha."

I don't know those girls, but I nod anyway. "Why do you care about running so much?" I ask, looking her up and down.

She looks at the ground beneath her feet. I can't help but feel the guilt piling up in my stomach.

"Everyone who died in the lightning storm was a Builder or a Raiser." She tells me. "Only the Runners are living. If I can't run, it might be me next."

My heart sinks in my chest as I think about Newt. He can run, but not well. What if his body lies out in the sand, and we simply haven't looked for it? Perhaps he, like some of the other boys, his corpse was set on fire and he turned to ash. I don't know if he's alive.

That's why I can't sleep anymore. I think about all of us that have died, and think about the Group A. What if their numbers reflect our own? What if they are worse? With him and Dawn gone, they both could die, and I would never know what happens to them. That might be worse than the truth, because no matter how hard I try I can't seem to imagine the pair of them living. It seems more than impossible to picture something good out here. How could Dawn just pick up and leave us?

"You feel it too," her voice is still and practically silent.

"Sorry?" I ask, not quite understanding.

She reclines, moving further backwards. "You remember Beth?"

Beth was their Gally. I've heard her mentioned briefly, in passing and in hushed whispers, but I haven't paid much attention to their gossip. I nod carefully, moving my head up and down.

"I've heard about her," I mention, turning my attention back to the bandages. After all, that's what I'm here for.

Saph seems oddly still. It almost feels like she is holding her breath in her throat. I wait for to exhale, second after second. Continuing and continuing, waiting and waiting, until she finally breathes out.

"Beth was my Dawn," she glances up at me, and my chest tightens.

"I don't know what you are talking about." I'm blinking rapidly, and my hands are shaking, but I manage to finish bandaging her. After all this time I'm still not a good liar.

Saph exhales, looking at the ground. She takes my hand in hers, running her fingertips over it softly. "It's okay that you do, Leo."

I stand up, snapping to attention. My hands and feet are frozen, and I can't think, but I walk away.

I make it to the front door, where Hilde and Rose sit on the ground. Hilde lounges by the door. Her back lies against the wall, one leg propped into the air above the other, and her black hair sprawled around her. Opposite her, Rose sits straight up and still. She doesn't look at me when I arrive, glaring at Hilde in contempt. I wonder what bad blood is between them.

"I need air," I tell them.

"Not right now, you don't," Rose warns, lifting her eyes to see me only for a brief second.

"Seriously," I say, looking between the two.

Hilde seems to be trying to pick her nails clean, even in the dim light. She shines her flashlight at them to get a better look. "Sorry stick, but we can't let anyone out until dawn," she smiles to herself, as if she's made a clever joke. "or until Dawn comes back. Which ever dawn first."

I bite the inside of my cheek, my arms dangling limply at my side. "I'll be just a minute."

Hilde rolls her eyes, knocking her feet down and standing up. She is slightly shorter than me, but moves in close enough to me that she feels much bigger than I am. Our chests are practically touching. "Lee, right?"

"Leo," I correct.

She offers a small smile, glancing down at Rose. The other girl stiffens, turning her back to us. Hilde brushes back a smooth strand of my hair, before her hand lands on my shoulder.

"Listen," she instructs. "I don't think you are going to run off. Besides, I doubt you could outrun the pair of us. But, I think you should know that not all the girls feel the same way as me" She looks over my shoulder, and I turn to follow her eyes. The girls are sleeping behind us, no one paying any attention.

"Dawn leaves, no big deal, less conflict even." Hilde continues, shrugging. "Ella leaves, even better, since she is so sick it's just a burden on our resources. You, however, are our Meddie. Not theirs. If there is any chance you are going to leave, we can't take it."

I feel frozen to the ground.

"Michelle doesn't think you're a Deserter," Rose offers, glancing up at me. Her face is only half lit in the dim lighting. "Don't let us prove her wrong."

I back away, staring at the two of them. I've got nowhere to run.

Dawn Short

We've set up camp already. None of us have managed to get to sleep. Not without Thomas. He's been gone for hours, under the rubble of a building. In the morning, we search, and if we can't find him by nightfall, we move out. It's the way things have to be now.

Minho has me pulled against him, leaning on the wall. He hasn't said much since he found me. All he has managed to do is grip on to me. I can't blame him, since we didn't leave on the best of terms. The space seems to have healed us though. I fit firmly in his grasp, and I can feel him breathing.

I close my eyes, only for a second.

"How is Group B doing?" Newt asks, bringing me back to attention. He bites the inside of his cheek. I've seen that nervous tick a hundred times before, but never from him.

What does he expect me to say? We're doing great except for the fact that everyone is fighting, and those girls are crazy?

"How serious are they about killing Thomas?" Fry asks back.

"Can't this wait until morning?" Minho cuts in. The whole group goes quiet to listen to him. I can feel his voice vibrating through my chest. It's warm and strong. "Obviously being there was rough enough. We don't need to make her relive is so soon."

Eyes around the circle cast downwards at his words. Seemingly, Minho is the de facto leader of this group.

"It's fine," I manage. His grip on me tightens as he listens. "I'd rather talk about it now then later, anyway."

Minho nods, relaxing. "Sorry."

I shrug. There isn't any blame here. I'd rather not be pestered with questions, since I'm so tired. I'm glad he can read that off me. Regardless, these boys need to know what they are going up against. I don't get to have things the way I want anymore.

"The girls are serious enough that they know the date and time, not that I remember it," the sentence sounds like a joke, but I'm dead serious. "Teresa has gone off the wall. She's going to kill Thomas."

"The girls aren't that bad," one of the boys offers.

He is one of the newcomers. I peer at him across the fire. He has short hair, cropped down to his skull, and dark skin. He has lines on his cheeks from smiling so much, and dark eyes.

"Sheil, right?" I ask, leaning forward. "The diabetic?"

He nods his head up and down, looking back and forth between the two boys next to him.

"If you had forgotten Sonya, Teresa tried to kill you only a few days ago. I wouldn't be so quick to let them off the hook for that," I tell him. "Even if Marie was fighting for you."

Sheil doesn't have anything to offer after that, looking around at his friends.

"What have you been doing anyway?" I ask, turning away from those boys. I don't want to ask my friends who is dead. I already know Frankie is gone. His freckles, and smile, and wild eyes. I don't want to think of anyone else.

"Just moving," Fry answers. "Things only got interesting when you showed up."

I wouldn't call this interesting. Collapsing building is not entertaining, nor is being separated from Thomas. None of this is particularly exciting.

"We've been traveling at night," Minho offers, leaning into me. "Is that why we haven't seen you?"

"The girls use Underground Tunnels," I tell the rest of the group. "Although, they might not anymore. A few died in a collapse during the storm."

"How many are left?" One of them asks.

"With me gone, sixteen," that is, if they found Ella. Maybe fifteen at this point. Still, they outnumber us, and they are way more organised than we are. From what I know, we just have to get over the mountain. No killing anybody, which works in my favour. "Although, I hope Leo will escape sooner or later."

"Who's alive?" One of the two boys I don't know asks.

I shrug my shoulders. "Harriet, Sonya, Rose, Hilde, her two buddies-"

"She has three friends," Sheil interrupts. "It's a clique."

"Well, now there are two," I say it firmly. "Almost half of the girls are dead. I don't think you want me listing it off. The story isn't pleasant."

"Marie's alive, right?" Sheil asks. "She's okay?"

"Last time I checked," I sigh, exhausted. I don't want to think about the dead. It's too late into the evening. Too much has been happening. Now, I'm gone from all the other girls, my friends included.

Those are all the questions they seem to have. I guess in the month the boys were there, they'd only made a few friends. Perhaps maybe the rest of them have died during their escape. Honestly, I couldn't tell you. By the end of my time in the Maze, I had pretty much known everybody, with a few exceptions. Sheil seems to be the most engaged and know the most people. The other two, not quite so much.

"What about Anne?" He asks.

I don't want to answer this one. I know what happened to her. It was when those balls were attacking. It got her, right next to Saph. "We were in the tunnel."

Sheil freezes at this, his mouth zipping shut. Now he knows, at least. She's dead. I remember Saph calling out her name over and over, to no avail.

When I glance around the room, I realise Fry and I are the only Cooks left. All the others are dead, some even long dead. I don't want to know what happened to Frankie. His smiling face will live on in my memory. Or, I guess, he will die in my memory.

Sheil gets up, walking out of the room. One of the other boys trails after him, following him out of the room. The third guy doesn't offer anything to me, instead choosing to sit in the silence.

The only other boy that I've never seen before sits far away from them, at the other side of the group. He has a mop of blonde hair, and a sour expression. He glances up at me, noticing my gaze, before pulling his feet up into his chest.

"You're Aris," I notice. He's their Teresa, which I don't like one bit. No part of me trusts him, with his uncomfortable expression, and stiff shoulders. Teresa said she was in communication with him.

"She says she is talking to you in her head, that true?" I ask, though I believe the answer to be yes. I mean, as far as I can tell, Teresa is a liar. Still, that squirrely kid looks suspicious.

"Yes," he answers, his body stiff. All the eyes in the room land on him. At least he is being honest about it.

"What does she want?" Minho jumps in.

Newt sighs, turning to the boy. "She has been ignoring Thomas for days? Why is it you?"

Aris shrugs his shoulders.

"She says you've been helping her," I continue, staring down Aris.

Aris shakes his head back and forth. "It isn't like that."

"Then what's it like?" Doug cuts in, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I thought she was worried," Aris tells me. "I heard her, and for a second I thought she was Rachel."

Rachel. She is the one who died. Aris's voice cracks at the end of his sentence. He gazes back down at the ground, and I watch as his eyes water. Not that I can blame him. Obviously, I don't know this Rachel, and I doubt I ever will, but she seems important to him. I wonder if she is as important to the other boys.

"I thought maybe she had lived, like Thomas," Aris stands up, glancing at me. "I was wrong."

He leaves the room, trailing off into the warehouse.

I get it, Aris, I really do.

Michelle Short

Someone lightly kicks me on the leg, and I find myself popping awake. I glance over, noticing Hilde hanging over my body.

"My watch is done," she offers, pointing to the door. "You, Rose and Harriet are on next."

They never have three of us on at once. This is Dawn's fault. Last time I watched was the first night. I don't see why they even bother waking me up. Probably because they want me to think they trust me. Maybe it's because they want me as tired as possible so I can't run away. Who shucking knows?

I get up, moving over to the door. I plant myself in the spot next to Rose, watching as Hilde goes over to wake up Harriet. She always takes a few minutes to get up and out of bed, since the exhaustion no doubt overwhelms her much like it does the rest of us. Of course, it's not like I can blame her. Things are rough right now.

"Morning," Rose mutters, looking out into the night. Her dark hair falls over her face, obscuring her. "You seem awfully cheery."

"I haven't said anything," I argue.

Rose gestures with her arm, before dropping it. "My point exactly."

I roll my eyes, letting my head rest on my fist. My hair falls in my face, and for a second, it makes me so angry that I almost put it up into a ponytail. Almost.

"You never answered me the other night?" She asks.

"What?" I demand, thinking back. That was days ago. Does she really think I remember?

She sighs, looking down at her lap. Obviously dissatisfied with my confusion, she continues. "You said you had a Jay."

"I thought you shanks might've respected privacy," I tell her.

"You offered me the information," she argues.

Yeah, not to talk about it. What does she expect, us sitting around in a circle, braiding hair, crying quietly about boys who are gone, boys who've died, boys who've shucked with us? That isn't exactly my style. From what I can tell, I am more of a Jay than a Rose. There aren't many stories about birds and flowers for a reason, I guess.

I clench my fist, sitting up. Looking around the room, I notice Harriet is up but hovering closer to the back of the room, which is good. The less she hears, the better.

"His name is Gally," I tell her, assuring myself that it is Gally, not Dave. "In charge of the Builders. Bit of a slinthead."

Rose leans back against the wall, seeming to relax. I wonder how much of this rings true if we reverse the stories.

"Who were your Keepers?" I ask.

She shrugs her shoulders. "We didn't have anyone formally in charge."

"Who organized the Maps?" I ask, since I know only one person could've done it.

She freezes. "Beth did. When she left, they were deciding between Hilde and me to replace her."

That explains their rivalry, at least a bit. Besides the Jay thing. My bet was he was shacking them both. I see myself as more of the Jay. Although, I can't decide here iwho is Dave and who is Gally.

Honestly, Rose is probably Dave.

I guess the comparison isn't as direct as I thought it was supposed to be. Not that it matters. "I saw Gally today."

Rose glances at me out of the corner of her eye. She tosses a glance further back into the room, staring at Harriet, before looking back at me.

"You ran into the boys?" She asks.

I shake my head. "He was our Beth. I thought he died."

Rose leans back against the wall, before glancing around the room.

"No stucking load," she mutters, before leaning back in. The light cascades over her tan skin, making it almost look a deep bronze in the light. "You tell Teresa?"

I shake my head back and forth. It hadn't occurred to me to tell Teresa. Honestly, I only told Rose so she wouldn't ask me anymore about the past. I'd rather live in the here and now, where Gally is alive, and everything is better than it used to be.

"I'm keeping it quiet," I tell her, since I haven't gauged yet exactly her damage.

She nods in agreement, seeming to calm down.

Harriet finally makes her way over to us, sitting on the ground. From then out, we are silent.

Ella Short

The room is cold, and quiet, and my feet dangle off the floor. Eli beside me is just a bit taller. His holds my hand, with a ring of purple around his wrist not entirely different from mine. They had stopped with him a while ago, until last night.

Until they decided that if I was just going to keep seizing, they were going to try a new tactic. It didn't work.

"Recently," the woman leans forward, ignoring the smoke man sitting next to her. "We have come to the realisation that, unfortunately, it looks like you won't be cooperating, Emily. I am very sorry to hear this."

My name is not Emily. I have forgotten the real one, but they will have to force my jaw open with their claws and blades before they can make me utter out Emily.

"Perhaps, you might like a new name," she offers. "Rachel, perhaps. Maybe even Teresa."

I have heard this before. Only a few times, but before. Weeks and months before.

I shake my head back and forth. I will not be one of them. I couldn't be. No matter what, I would never be either of them.

"We did have an initial plan for you," she offers, but if you are so unwilling to relent, we might switch you with one of them. I'm sure they would be eager to be called Emily."

"Of course, Eli would have a place as well," she offers. "Not as a Thomas, but perhaps as an Aris. That would do him just well, I think."

I do not answer them. Eli softly rubs the bruises on my wrists. It is a pleasant attempt to remind me what is at stake here. Not just him, but also my world as well.

"No thank you," I say it firmly. "I am content to stay where I am. So is Eli."

The woman, white it nearly ever aspect, grimaces. Obviously, this was not the answer she wanted me to give her.

"I plan on exploring this endeavour further," she smiles at me. "Starting today."

We are in a white room, with white walls. Eli is hooked in, and it is my turn to go first.

"There's a man in a train station who has misplaced his ticket." The Smoke man begins.

"I can't answer this," I cut him off. The first time I hear this riddle was six years ago, but I remember it all the same. It took me a few tries then, it takes me fewer now. "I don't know if he gets on a train."

The Smoke man face creases, as he takes his lip into his mouth. He lets out a sigh, showing me the teeth in his mouth.

"There are three doors," he continues, "one with the cure behind it, and the other with Cranks..."

"I switch doors, because the probability favors that I chose the wrong door." I tell him.

The Smoke man huffs, glancing from Eli back to me. His hand is on his belt, where I know he keeps the trigger. Eli looks at me, with soft eyes and skin. He mouths carefully as his hands shake. Please.

I ignore him, turning back to the man before me.

"There are five houses on the hill,"

"And the German owns this fish." I tell him. They have used all these problems on me before. It may have been closer to the beginning, but I forget nothing. I don't forget my name, I don't forget the numbers, nor the time. Despite of this so-called "exploration".

He pauses, before turning to face me.

"There is a Maze," his voice is calm, and still. I don't know this riddle. "We have built this Maze, inside out. There are four different doors, each separating and leaving in two different directions. You only have twelve hours everyday to explore this Maze, over a period of two years. You have forty peers, all of whom are equal to you in skill and in strength. You cannot climb the Walls, you must return to the center by the end of your twelve hours, and every night the Walls of the Maze shift. How do you escape?"

This is their plan. If one person solved the Maze within the 12 hours, he would escape, but not be able to bring anyone else with him. The Walls move every night. We have forty peers. We cannot climb the Walls.

The Maze cannot be solved.

"There is not enough information," I tell him. "The Maze cannot be solved."

He presses the button, and I hear Eli scream.

"Try again," he tells me.

"It is the correct answer," I insist. "If they are my peers, they think the same as I do. We give up hope."

He shocks Eli again, and I fumble with my fingers. There is no answer. Why does he keep pressing me like this? It's not a math problem, it isn't attention to detail, I know the details. There is no solution. If they are my peers, then we die.

"There is a Maze," he continues.