| chapter 35: united we stand |

DAWN

It turned out Newt had convinced the Keepers after all. They called the Gladers together and were telling them what we had to do. The awful truth. Some Gladers walked away, with angry or shocked faces. Others really listened and seemed to consider the option. The only chance we had. 

I took a deep breath, put my hands in my pocket and walked towards Thomas who was watching the scene play out from a little distance.

'So, what now?' I asked once I reached him.

Thomas looked at me. 'Now we fight.'

There was a ton of work to be done. Backpacks were handed out and stuffed full of supplies. Frypan, who'd agreed to come with us, was in charge of gathering all the food and figuring out a way to distribute it evenly among the packs. Syrings of Grief Serum were included, although Thomas had told us that the Grievers wouldn't sting us. You never knew for sure.

Chuck was in charge of filling water bottles and getting them out to everyone. Teresa helped him. I was very proud of Chuck, he'd tried to act brave when he found out what we were going to do, but his sweaty skin and dazed eyes revealed the truth and yet he had swallowed his fear and helped us.

Minho went to the Cliff with a few Runners, taking ivy ropes and rocks to test the invisible Griever Hole one last time. They had to hope the Grievers would keep to their normal schedule and not come out during daytime hours. Thomas told me that he was planning on jumping through the exit and punch in the code. All we had to do was hold off the Grievers.

I helped Newt with preparing weapons. We even created a few more for our fight against the Grievers. We used branches to create spears, sharpening the edge with our knives. We made sure everyone had at least two weapons, a back up for if you were to lose one. No one, except for Alby and me, were able to handle a bow. So we decided to leave those here.

Wooden poles were carved into spears or wrapped in barbwire. The knives were sharpened and fastened with twine to the ends of sturdy branches hacked from trees in the woods. Chunks of broken glass were duct-taped to shovels. By the end of the day we had turned into a little army. A very pathetic, ill-prepared army, but still an army.

Just before the normal Door-closing time, Fypan prepared one last meal to carry us through the night. I was sitting in a corner of the kitchen, not really wanting to speak with anyone. Every time I looked at someone the awful thought that he could be dead in a few hours came up in my head. It made me sick, scared and I didn't want to be scared because it would make me loose focus and losing focuse could get me killed.

I sighed and swallowed the last bite of my sandwich, the food tasted like sand in my mouth.
My bow was next to me, along with a full quiver. I had sharpened my arrows and carried two knives in my boots. I didn't feel like a warrior. But I knew I had no choice but to become one now.

Commotion from the other tables caught my attention. Newt and Alby were gathering the Gladers, telling everyone it was almost time to go. I took a deep breath, stood up and threw my quiver around my back, my bow was in my hand. I held it so tight my knuckles were turning white. I didn't have a backpack since I had to carry my quiver. But I did have a bottle with water and a little bag with Grief Serum bound around my belt.

Then, banishing the last of my doubts to a small corner of my heart, I walked out of the kitchen and headed to the West Door.

'You shanks ready?' Minho asked once I reached him, Teresa, Thomas and Chuck. 

I couldn't answer that question.

'Thomas this was all your idea, so it better work. If not, I'll kill ya before the Grievers can,' Minho said, eyeing Thomas.

'Thanks,' He replied dryly. 

I wasn't in a mood to laugh about it. My attention was drawn to Teresa who shifted from foot to foot, wringing her hands. 

'You okay?' Thomas asked her.

'I'm fine,' She answered with a small smile, clearly not fine at all. 'Just anxious to get it over with.'

'Amen, sister,' Minho replied. He looked so calm I didn't understand how. I had a heavy feeling in my stomach, my throat was dry and my hands were sweating. But we didn't have another choice. This was what we were meant to do after all.

When Newt finally had everyone gathered, he called for silence. I turned around to hear what he had to say. 'There's forty-one of us.' He pulled the backpack he was holding onto his shoulders and hoisted a thick wooden pole with barbwire wrapped around its tip. The thing looked deadly.

Suddenly the image of him laying on the floor flashed before my eyes, blood streaming out of his ripped open throat. I blinked to get that thought away. He wasn't going to die. He was going to be okay. But I knew that was a lie. I was lying to myself. We could all be dead in a few hours...

His words took me back to reality. And I tightened the grip around my bow. 'Make sure you've got your weapons. Other than that, isn't a whole lot to buggin' say-you've all been told the 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.'

Despite the awful and scary situation I felt a weird desire to smile. His words were simple and not encouraging at all but still they gave me a little bit of courage. No, Newt gave me courage. Every Glader here who was willing to fight gave me courage.

'Shouldn't someone give a pep talk or something?' Minho asked, making me somehow smirk, and a second later getting sick of myself because I felt so confident in this situation.

'Go ahead,' Newt replied.

Minho nodded and faced the crowd. 'Be careful,' He said. 'Don't die.'

My smirk went wider and I shook my head. Again feeling stupid for smirking in this situation.

'Great. We're all bloody inspired,' Newt replied with a roll of his eyes. Then he pointed over his shoulder to the Maze. '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.'

Someone cheered, and then someone else. Followed by a loud noise that filled the air. Shouts and calls broke out, rising in volume. I felt a spark of courage inside me and tried to grasp it, clung to it, urged it to grow. I wasn't really scared anymore. Because this was worth fighting for. It was all worth fighting for. For a couple of seconds I closed my eyes and tried to lock the feeling, the spark of hope, inside of me.

Then I opened my eyes again and screamed with the others. Holding my bow up in the sky. Newt thrust his weapon into the air and yelled. 'Hear that, Creators! We're coming!'

And with that he turned and ran into the Maze, his limp barely noticeable. I was the first to run after him and was followed by all the Gladers. Most of them were still yelling with their weapons in the air.

I kept a steady pace as I ran with the Gladers along the stone pathways toward the Cliff. I was used to running here but this time it was different. It felt like finally knowing what I was going to do. Why I was out here. With a whole group of Gladers behind me. And that felt good.

Newt came running next to me and suddenly I was wondering how long non-Runners would keep up with this quick but steady pace. Newt didn't say anything to me but took my hand and ran next to me. A little smile appeared on my face as we ran through the dark corridors.
He was with me, and I wasn't planning on letting him go ever again.

He lowered his pace so we came running next to Minho. 'You lead the way now,' Newt told him.

The Keeper of the Runners nodded and ran to the front, guiding us through this dark hole.

'Scared?' Newt suddenly asked me, his breath heavy.

'As hell,' I answered. I looked at him and he gave me a slight smile. Then we ran again, still hand in hand.

We ran through halls and corridors but we never saw a Griever. Still I didn't want to hope for the fact that we wouldn't have to fight. Maybe all the Grievers were waiting for us by the Hole. Or worse, in the Hole.

I shook my head, not wanting to think about any of that.

Finally, after the longest hour of my life we reached the long alley that led to the last turn before the Cliff. A short corridor to the right that branched off like the stem of the letter T.

I took a deep breath and squeezed Newt's hand. He squeezed back but didn't let go, which I was thankful for.

Minho slowed at the corner, then stopped, holding up a hand to tell us to do the same. Then he turned, a look of horror on his face. 'Do you hear that?' He whispered.

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the sound Minho was talking about. But I didn't hear anything.

Minho crept ahead and peeked around the sharp edge of stone, looking forward to the Cliff. Suddenly he jerked back and turned to face us. By the look on his face my whole body turned numb. 'Oh no,' He said through a moan. 'Oh no.'

That was when I heard it. Griever sounds. It was as if they'd been hiding, waiting, and now were coming to life. I looked at my left to Newt, he didn't look back at me but squeezed my hand again.

'There's at least a dozen of them. Maybe fifteen,' Minho said, drawing my attention back at him. He reached up and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. 'They're just waiting for us!'

The numbness left my body, but made way for a heavy feeling in my stomach. I took a deep breath but it didn't go away. My grip around my bow and around Newt's hand tightened. And he pinched just as hard in return. I was scared. Down to the bone. Scared. It was like my blood was gone, and instead fear was washing through my veins.

Newt broke the silence. 'Well, we knew we'd have to fight.' But the tremor in his voice gave him away, he was just trying to say the right thing.

'Maybe they've already taken a kid back at the Glade. Maybe we can get past them, why else would they just be sitting-.' A loud noise from behind us cut Thomas off.

I spun around to see more Grievers moving down the corridor towards us, spikes flaring, metal arms groping, coming from the direction of the Glade. Then another sound took my attention. Again I turned around and saw even more Grievers. The enemy was on all sides, they were blocking us off. The Gladers moved towards Thomas, forming a tight group. Forcing him to move out into the open intersection where the Cliff corridor met the long alley. 

Slowly I turned around in a circle, taking Newt with me since we were still holding hands. The Grievers had surrounded us. There was no escaping. No other option than to fight. We formed into a tighter group, everyone facing outward, huddled together in the center of the T intersection.

I felt Newt trembling next to me but there was nothing I could say to comfort him. So I raised our entwined hands and gave a kiss on his fingers. For a second he stopped trembling but when I lowered our hands he started again. I took a deep breath to stop my body from trying to throw the fear out.

'Got any ideas?' Thomas asked.

'No,' Newt replied, his voice just the tiniest bit shaky. 'I don't understand what they're bloody waitin' for.'

'Me neither,' I whispered, feeling sick.

'We shouldn't have come,' Alby said, something odd sounding through his voice. 

'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,' Thomas said. 

I shook my head, now we were surrounded by Grievers like this I didn't believe in the one person rule anymore. A long moment passed, adrenaline was rushing through my veins. Newt was pinching my hand, as if he was trying to remind me that this is not a dream. I pinched just as hard back, reminding him that I was here with him.

'Maybe I should...' Alby whispered. Sharply I turned around to see him walking forward, slowly as if he was in some sort of trance. Panic washed through me. What was he doing?

'Alby?' Newt said, and I felt him trembling. 'Get back here!'

Instead of responding, Alby took off running, he headed straight for the pack of Grievers between him and the cliff. 

'Alby!' Newt screamed. 

I felt like screaming but the sound was stuck in my throat as I watched in horror as Alby mad eit to the monsters and jumped on top of one. 

Newt let go of my hand and tried to run after his friend.

'Newt! Don't!' I screamed, grabbing his arm and holding on tight.

Suddenly five or six Grievers burst to life and attacked Alby in a blur of metal and skin.

'Let go!' Newt yelled, struggling to break loose. I tightened my grip, digging my nails into his skin but he was too strong. 'Thomas!' I screamed, hopeless.

The boy turned around and grabbed Newt by his shoulders. 'Are you nuts!' Thomas shouted into Newt's face. 'There's nothing you can do!'

Two more Grievers broke from the pack and swarmed over Alby, piling on top of each other, snapping and cutting the boy, as if they wanted to rub it in, show their vicious cruelty.

Somehow, Alby didn't scream. I lost sight of his body as I struggled to hold Newt back and I was thankful for the distraction. When the sounds died down, Newt finally gave up, collapsing in defeat, sobs rattling through his bones.

I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and gave him a kiss on his temple. I knew exactly how he felt. Because I felt the same thing when I had to watch Lisa being dragged towards her death. I couldn't help myself from looking. There was nothing left of Alby. Our leader had sacrificed himself. He'd been so scared to go back to whatever he had seen.

He was gone.