The healer [Maze runner Newt x OC]

Chapter eighteen

One by one, the other Gladers—Alby, Winston, Clint, and Jeff—moved toward them. But the Builders still remained in the Glade, their faces impassive, too afraid to make a move. Grace noticed that not a single former runner came forward; their heads were hung low, paralyzed by fear, unwilling to step into the Maze again.

"It's over, Gally," Thomas said, his voice firm. "Just come with us."

Gally's eyes burned with fury, but there was a hint of something else—desperation. "Good luck with the Grievers," he spat, his voice shaking.

With that, Grace turned to the others. Minho led the charge, his eyes fixed on the Maze ahead. Without another word, they sprinted into the maze, ready to face whatever came next.

Halfway to the Griever hole, Minho held up his hand, signaling the Gladers to stop. Newt stepped forward, surveying the group. "There are forty-one of us," he said, his voice steady as he adjusted his backpack. "Make sure you've got your weapons. Other than that, not much else to say. You've all come this far. We're going to fight through the Griever hole, and Tommy's gonna punch in his little magic code. Then, we'll get payback on the Creators. Simple as that."

Grace, still panting from the run, couldn't help but feel the weight of the Maze. It seemed to stretch endlessly, each turn revealing just how massive it truly was. She wasn't used to running at Minho's pace, and she was already starting to feel the burn. She wiped sweat from her forehead and glanced at the others.

"Shouldn't someone give a pep talk or something?" she asked between breaths.

Newt glanced over at her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Go ahead."

Grace raised an eyebrow, then turned her attention to Minho, who had already turned to face the group.

"Be careful," he said dryly. "Don't die."

If it had been any other time, Grace might have laughed. But the tension in the air was thick, and the gravity of their mission was undeniable.

"Great," Newt said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "We're all bloody inspired now." He waved a hand towards the Maze. "You all know the plan. After two years of being treated like lab rats, tonight, we make a stand. Tonight, we take the fight back to the Creators. No matter what we have to go through to get there, tonight, the Grievers better be scared."

A cheer broke out from the group, followed by shouts of encouragement. Battle cries rang through the air as Newt raised his machete high. "Hear that, Creators! We're coming for you!"

Minho led the way, charging forward toward the Griever hole, the other Gladers following close behind.

After a grueling hour of running, they reached the entrance to the long corridor that led into the heart of the Griever hole. Grace noticed a Beetle Blade flitting around them, one landing on her shoulder. She swatted it off, shivering as the mechanical insect buzzed away.

"Oh no," the Keeper groaned, peering around the corner. "Oh no." His voice dropped into a whisper, eyes wide with panic.

Grace's stomach tightened. "What is it?" she asked, her voice barely a breath.

The Keeper rubbed his eyes, staring ahead. "There's at least a dozen of them. Maybe fifteen. They're just waiting for us."

The tension was palpable. Newt, Alby, Thomas, Teresa, Grace, Chuck, and Minho all gathered at the front, their eyes scanning the corridor, trying to come up with a plan.

"Well, we knew we'd have to fight," Newt said, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his nerves.

"Maybe they've already taken a kid back at the Glade," Thomas suggested. "Maybe we can sneak past them—why else would they just be sitting there?" But his words were cut off by the sudden, deafening sound of Grievers approaching from the other end of the corridor.

Grace spun around, her heart pounding. She shut her eyes for a moment, bracing herself. More Grievers emerged, their massive forms filling the passageway, coming from all sides, trapping the Gladers.

"Got any ideas?" Thomas asked, his voice laced with tension.

Newt shook his head. "I don't understand what the bloody hell they're waiting for."

"We shouldn't have come," Alby muttered, his voice distant.

Minho turned to him, his gaze hard. "I'd rather die with everyone here, side by side, than die alone in the Homestead."

Alby was silent for a long moment. Then, as if in a trance, he turned and began walking toward the Griever hole.

"Alby?" Newt called, a warning edge to his voice. "Get back here!"

But Alby didn't respond. He continued walking, his steps slow and deliberate, until he was sprinting toward the Grievers.

"Alby!" Newt shouted, struggling to move forward, but Thomas and Grace held him back, both of them shocked by Alby's self-sacrifice.

"I can't believe it," Newt whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I can't believe he just did that."

Minho stepped up, placing a hand on Newt's shoulder. "We can't waste what he did. We'll fight them if we have to. We'll make a path to the hole for you and Teresa. You get in there, do your thing, and scream when you need us to follow."

Thomas nodded, his jaw tight. Minho handed the key to Chuck. "Hopefully, they'll go dormant for a while. We should only need a minute or so to punch in the code."

Newt, his face still pale with shock, spoke quietly. "How can you guys be so heartless?"

"What do you want, Newt?" Minho snapped, his voice a mix of frustration and resolve. "Should we all dress up and have a funeral for him?"

Newt didn't respond. Instead, he stood there, his eyes closed, clearly struggling with the loss.

Grace, noticing how shaken he was, stepped forward and gently took his arm, pulling him slightly away from the group.

"Newt," she said quietly, her voice soft but firm. "I know it's hard. But we can't let Alby's sacrifice be in vain. He knew what he was doing. He chose to fight. And now we have to honor that."

Newt remained silent for a long moment, but Grace could feel the tension in his body begin to ease slightly under her touch. She gave him a reassuring squeeze. "I know you're hurting, but you're not alone. We're all in this together."

Newt gave a quick, emotionless nod as Grace pulled him towards her, a quick peck on the lips before she heard Minho again. 

Minho turned back to the group. "Listen up! Priority number one is to protect Thomas and Teresa. Get them to the hole so they can do their thing. We'll hold the Grievers off until you scream for us to follow."

The sound of Grievers grew louder, their spikes extending and retracting with an eerie, mechanical rhythm. The plan was in motion, but Alby's sacrifice had not gone the way they'd hoped.

I feel kinda sad about Alby but it was obvious he wanted to die rather than leave the Maze, so I'm kinda happy he went out, trying to protect the others. If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a vote, comment and add this book to your reading list to stay updated! See you on Wednesday!

-X Violet's-library