Day Seven Hundred and Thirty Two

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"No."

"And who do you think you are to make that choice?"

"Alby made me second in command," Newt said as he crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head.

"And Alby and I are first in command, in case that slipped your mind." Ada scoffed.

"No, Ada." Newt said firmly. "I'm serious, this is a bad idea. Of all the bad ideas you've had, I think this has to be the worst, and trust me that's saying something."

The morning had come too soon, and brought with it a restless energy that seemed to hang over the glade, sucking away all the quiet. The sky was dark, grey clouds rolling heavy across the blue. When she had shaken Newt awake to tell him that she was heading into the maze, feeling the urge for some reason to let him know, she had expected him to smile and wave her off with his usual 'be careful.'

What she hadn't expected was for him to follow her all the way to the doors, protesting avidly the whole time. When she had finally turned to retaliate, it was to find him standing far closer than she had anticipated, with Alby and Minho watching from a distance through curious glances.

Irritation started to prickle at her skin, so she inhaled deeply and crossed her arms to resist the urge to slap him. "Running the maze is literally my job. I have done it almost every day for over two years now, Newt."

"That was before we knew there were grievers out there during the day!"

"We don't know that for sure."

"It's a pretty good guess." Newt snapped. This far away from the rest of the glade, still slumbering in their hammocks, peaceful and content, no one could hear their voices that gradually started to get louder and louder the more they disagreed. "I worry enough about you getting stuck in there overnight again, do you have any idea what it'd do to me knowing that those monsters are in there at the same time as you?"

"I get that, I do, but we have to try and figure out what's going on."

"No, we don't." Newt shook his head. "Two people have been stung in the last month, Ada. We've had to banish two of our friends. I'm not crossing your name off the wall too, you understand me? I won't."

Ada lifted a hand to her face, running her fingers over her mouth. "Alby and Minho will be with me. Not to mention, I've gone up against a Griever before, twice, and lived to tell about it."

"And you may be willing to risk that, Ada, but I'm not! Okay? I'm not willing to risk you!" Newt took a step forward, until he was only a few inches away from her, his eyes wild and desperate.

"Newt-"

"I have a really bad feeling about this, Ada, okay? Please, don't go in there."

A throat clearing from the distance snagged her attention, and she looked over to the doors to see Minho pointing at his watch and jerking his head to the maze. One quick glance at the sky confirmed it – they were losing daylight, and with the weather the way it was there was no guarantee they would get the whole day out there.

"I have to go, we're burning daylight." Ada shook her head sadly.

She went to sidestep him when his hand shot out, cupping her by the upper arm. He turned her back to him, his hands instantly lifting to frame her face. They were warm against her cheeks, the skin calloused and rough, and the feel of it had her inhaling sharply. When she looked back up at his face, his eyes were pleading and soft, studying her features as if he were trying to memorise her.

"You better come back to me, okay?" His words ghosted over her lips.

It took her a second to find the words and calm the shakiness in her hands as she lifted them to wrap around his wrists. "I always do."

She tangled her fingers with his, pulling them away from her face to squeeze them once before turning away from him, trying to calm the rapid beating of her heart. She looked back at him once as she reached Alby and Minho, both waiting with crossed arms and smirks on their faces. Newt didn't move, standing by the wall, his arms loose by his sides.

"You ready now?" Alby asked, adjusting the tangled strap of her harness. "Or do you and lover boy need another minute?"

Ada really hoped that the warm feeling in her cheeks was the remnant's of Newt's touch and not her blushing. "No idea what you're talking about."

"You sure?" Minho scoffed. "Because we can give you another-"

"I will drag you into that maze by your harness, Minho, do not test me."

"Yikes," Minho put his hands up in surrender.

"Alright, alright," Alby put a hand on both their shoulders, gently nudging them apart. "Serious faces now, guys. You ready?"

Ada patted her side, making sure that the water bottle and dagger were still firmly in place. "Ready."

They hit the ground running.

—

The maze was usually a calming place. During the day, at least.

Usually, the running was calming. It didn't come with any threats, any hindrance. Just her, the stone walls, and the pounding of her own heart in her ears to block out her thoughts.

Now, though, the maze seemed to be a living thing, a living threat, even during the day. The walls seemed taller, closer together, the corridors more dizzying and irregular. Her heartbeat in her lungs was now a hindrance, not a comfort – she couldn't hear the sounds of movement, a growl that might be carried on the wind, the clicking that came with death coming up behind her.

Ada glanced over her shoulder once more, just to be sure, accidentally looking directly at Alby. His stoic face was covered in a fine sheen of sweat as he tilted his head at her, brows furrowing in concern. He squinted his eyes at her, wordlessly asking if she was okay. She nodded, turning around again. Minho's harness was directly in her eyeline. She stared at it blankly, mapping out the criss-crosses of the thread that held it together. None of them spoke.

They had been running for hours when Minho finally drew to a halt, deep in the bowels of section four, so far in the sun itself seemed to have shied away. Thick clouds rolled black above them, cutting into the daylight and leaving it weak and bleary, the shadows that clung to the maze walls darker and heavier than she had seen in a while.

Something in the back of her mind prickled unpleasantly.

She wasn't expecting it when Minho skidded to a halt, a strange gasping noise dissolving into the air around him. She nearly crashed into his back, throwing a hand out to Alby as she looked up at Minho's face, several shades paler than it should be.

"Minho?" She asked, taking a step forward to look up at him. "What is it? You alright?"

Minho didn't respond, instead tilting his head downwards towards the ground in front of him, his lips pressed so tightly together they turned white. Ada followed his gaze, eyes tracking the stone.

Grey gave way to red, and when her mind caught up with what she was seeing her body already felt weak from shock.

Blood, so much of it, was streaked across the ground, still thick and glistening in the limited light. It was spotted in some places, barely more than flecks of crimson, but congealed and thick in others, smeared in great puddles across the stone and around the corner, over to sections five and six.

"Is that-"

"Ben's." Alby nodded grimly. "I don't see who else it could be, unless we miscounted at breakfast this morning."

"He was banished through the south doors," Ada shook her head slowly, "into section six. He made it all the way over here? How?"

"Maze changes at night," Alby shrugged slowly, "he probably made it to this point and then..." His gaze landed on a puddle of grey sludge, thick and clotted. "... ran into a Griever."

Ada studied the track marks, the way the streaks of crimson looked frantic, desperate almost, in the way they were smeared, as if Ben had been thrashing as the Grievers dragged him. "Where did they take him?"

"Only one way to find out." Minho spoke up, his voice grim. He took a step forward, eyes fixed on where the trail of blood rounded the corner and vanished from sight.

"You sure that's a good idea?" Ada asked, reaching forward to put a hand on his shoulder. The memory of Luke's deformed body, torn to pieces and mangled almost beyond recognition, swam into her mind before she could stop it. "We don't know what we're gonna find out there. And it's getting late. We said we'd be back by lunch, this might take us hours out of our way."

"I'm with Minho," Alby shook his head. "If the Grievers dragged Ben back to where they came from then there's a good chance this trail can lead us to a way out."

"Or it could lead us straight to a pack of murderous nightmares on legs."

Minho looked back at her, eyes deliberately expressionless. "He could still be alive. Ben, I mean. We could help him."

"He's not." Ada gestured at the blood. "No one loses this much blood and survives, Minho. It's not possible. Ben's gone."

"We're burning light," Alby shook his head, manoeuvring past them until he reached the bend of the corridor, peering around to the other side. Judging by the grim expression on his face, the trail didn't suddenly die out. "I say we follow, see where it goes. This could be the chance we've been waiting for, Ada."

Every instinct was screaming at her to run; back to the glade, back to home, back to safety. But Minho was looking at her like she held the fate of his world in her hands, and Alby was rocking impatiently on his feet, eyes fixed imploringly on hers. "Fine," she nodded briskly, "but let's be quick about it. And stick together, okay? Don't go wandering off."

Minho exhaled, his shoulders sagging in relief as he reached up to ruffle her hair and sidestep her. He vanished around the corner before she could second guess her decision. Alby shot her a small smile, gesturing for her to go in front of him. "It'll be fine, Ada."

As she broke into a light jog, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was wrong.

—

He tried not to focus on the blood streaked across the ground. If he stared at it for too long, nausea built up in his stomach strong enough for him to regret the breakfast he had wolfed down so early that morning. Instead, Alby kept his eyes fixed ahead of him, watching the swing of Ada's ponytail and occasionally counting the weapons strapped to Minho's back.

Newt had insisted that they all enter the maze armed to the teeth, 'just in case.' He hadn't specified, and he hadn't needed to. Alby knew damn well what he meant, and he agreed. The maze was dangerous on a normal day, but with the possibility of Grievers roaming about whilst they were in there? His hand lowered to his belt, where the dagger was strapped.

"Trail's still going strong," Minho's voice drifted back to him. It was strained slightly, and Alby knew this whole situation was getting to him. He and Ben had been close, almost as close as Alby and Ada were. He couldn't imagine tossing her into the maze and leaving her for dead, insane or not.

"Keep going." Alby said simply, trying to ignore the slight shake of Ada's head. They passed open corridors, branching off the main one they were on. A cursory glance down all of them proved them empty. His shoe slipped on something wet, but he refused to look down or slow his pace.

The sky was getting darker now, but not with the threat of night. Grey clouds stormed, thick and strong, snuffing out whatever blue remained in the sky until even the sun seemed to cower away. He squinted his eyes against the ongoing dark as a cold chill swept over his body.

"Looks like it's gonna rain." Ada spoke up, tilting her head back to the sky. "You sure you wanna keep going?"

"Rain will wash away the trail." Minho said, still running. "I say we follow it while it's still here. If it starts to get bad we'll turn around."

Alby nodded his agreement, but the others didn't see him.

Something wet and slimy on the ground caught his attention, but it wasn't in front of him. It was in the corridor to his right, gleaming in the limited sunlight.

Alby skidded to a stop, his eyes scanning the corridor. Grey sludge streaked the ground, a steady trail of it going straight down. Spots of red blood were splattered alongside it.

"Ada, Minho, come look at this." He said, taking a step forwards towards the mess. This corridor seemed darker, for whatever reason, the slabs of grey either side of him swathed in shadow. He nudged a puddle of the substance with the toe of his boot, curling his lip in disgust when it clung to him. So it was fresh. "I think a Griever's been down this way recently."

There was no answer.

"Ada? Minho?" Alby slowly rose to his feet, brow furrowed. The wind was worse now, gusting through the corridors with a vengeance, trapped in the endless expanse of grey. The space around him was completely empty, silent, with no sign of his companions. He stared at the bloody trail they must have continued to follow, debating joining them. If a Griever was nearby the last place he wanted to be was in its path.

He turned his back to the hallway right as the first drop of rain fell from the sky. It landed on his cheek, staining his skin. He looked up at the churning clouds only for a moment before the sound registered, echoing in the space behind him. Another drop of rain sank into his skin, then another, then another, until the sky opened up and the rain blurred his eyes. The hairs on his arms stood on end, a prickling awareness rising on his back that had cold dread swarming his stomach.

Click-whirr, Click-whirr.

Something heavy struck the ground behind him, scraping against the stone.

Run, his mind screamed, run, and don't look back.

But his feet were stuck, glued to the ground, glued to the bloodied rock. He opened his mouth to yell or call out for help, he wasn't sure, but the sound never got the chance to escape him.

The Griever pounced right as a crack of thunder split the air in two.

—

Ada's chest was uncomfortably tight as they rounded yet another corner.

The blood was more obvious here, splattered on the walls with urgency. There was so much of it she could drown in it. They had been making an active effort to keep to the sides of the path, where the blood didn't touch, but this far in it was everywhere, and there was no other choice but to follow it with careful treads as their feet slipped in the red and crusts of crimson clung to their ankles.

Something was crumpled on the floor in front of them, a scrap of white fabric drenched with red.

Minho drew to a stop, his eyes fixed on it. "What is that?"

Ada took a step closer, nudging the fabric with the toe of her boot. The edges were frayed, as if it had been ripped from a bigger surface. The white was grim and dirty, the bottom of it looking as if it had been dipped in red ink. She recognised it instantly as a scrap of the shirt Ben was weaning when he was banished. "His shirt." She said simply.

A drop of rain fell from the sky, landing on the sodden fabric.

"It's raining," Ada pointed out right as another one fell. "I'm sorry, Minho."

Minho came up beside her and nodded solemnly, watching as the rain grew heavier. In a matter of seconds the rivulets of blood were slipping away, watered down to almost nothing. "At this rate it'll all be gone in the hour." His voice was strangely hoarse.

"We need to go," Ada said, trying to keep her voice as soft as possible. "It's gonna take hours to get back, probably longer in this weather. The glade must be worried."

Minho simply nodded, his face tight.

"Alby, you agree? Think we should head back?"

No answer.

"Alby?" Ada turned around, ready to peer pressure her friend into leaving if need be, but he was nowhere in sight. "What the hell?"

"Where the hell did that shank wander off to?" Minho asked, lifting one hand to shield his eyes against the downpour. "Wasn't he the one who said not to wander off yesterday?"

Ada stepped toward the mouth of the corridor, peering both left and right. The heavy onslaught of rain made it hard to see, and droplets of water clung heavily to her lashes. It soaked her shirt, making the fabric sodden and uncomfortable as it stuck to her skin. Alby was still nowhere to be seen. "Idiot," she cursed, turning back to Minho. "C'mon, let's retrace our steps and see if we can find him."

Minho checked his watch, lips pursed. "When I find him I swear I'm gonna murder the slinthead."

"Not if I get to him first," she muttered. They abandoned the blood trail, leaving Ben and what was left of him behind them as they hurried back the way they came, one hand shielding their eyes. Worry began to claw at her gut, making her nauseous. "It's not like him to split off from us. Do you think he's okay?"

"I'm sure he's fine," Minho nodded, but his smile was tight. "He just got lost."

Neither of them pointed out that Alby knew this maze better than possibly anyone, and that him getting lost was about as likely as Gally being nice to Thomas.

"Yeah," she nodded, "lost."

The corridors became a wet blur, but as the minutes stretched long and there was still no sign of Alby, Ada's panic began to grow. The rain only seemed to worsen, coming down in thick lashes, beating down on her shoulders. Nearly thirty minutes had passed when they skidded around a corner, immediately grinding to a stop as a familiar outline began to form in the distance.

"Alby," Minho yelled, raising his voice over the wind, but there was no response.

Unease prickled her skin, but Ada stubbornly ignored it as she pressed forward, not knowing if Minho was behind her.

Alby stood with his back to them, staring at the open mouth of the corridor in front of them. Through the thick fog of water, Ada could just about make out the tense muscles of his back and the clenching of his hands at his sides. He was soaked to the bone, rain running in thick tracks down his face and neck, but the cold water didn't seem to be bothering him.

In fact, his entire frame was so still Ada briefly considered that the Creators had dropped an Alby-shaped statue in front of them with no explanation.

"Alby?" She asked, but she could barely hear her own voice over the wind. "What the hell are you playing at? You can't go wandering off like that."

Her fingers had barely grazed his shoulder before she was being shoved against the wall, his hand around her throat.

She was vaguely aware of Minho, a blur of movement as he darted forward, his shocked voice echoing something across the stone, but all she could see was Alby's face sneering down at her. His lips were cracked, a bruise spreading across his lower jaw, a slash on his collarbone leaking blood onto the ground.

It was his eyes that had her frozen in place, unable to fight back.

His pupils were so large the sliver of brown around them could barely be seen, and there was a certain madness glinting in his wild and vacant stare that she had never seen on him before. He was looking at her as if he didn't even know her anymore.

As if she were a stranger.

The shock wore off quickly as she curled her hand into a fist and jabbed it as hard as she could into the crook of his elbow, his grip on her buckling as he cried out in pain. Minho was on them then, grabbing Alby by the straps of his harness and dragging him away from her, yelling something she couldn't quite make out as he looked at him with wide eyes.

Ada fell back against the wall, one hand cupping her throat, the other going straight for the dagger at her side. The skin of her neck felt thin and sore, and she blinked in surprise. She hadn't noticed just how hard he was gripping her until he was pulled away and air was filling her lungs again. "What the hell?" Her question vanished into thin air as Alby spun on the spot, his fist connecting with Minho's jaw so hard she heard a crack.

Minho collided with the stone wall, but Alby didn't give him a second to recover before he was delivering another blow straight to Minho's gut, his jaw clenched so hard she could see veins there.

For a moment, Ada froze in panic, unsure of what to do. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her dagger, the rope digging into her palm, but she didn't know where to direct her blow. One wrong move and Alby's blood would be spilling over the stone, but if she remained idle then Minho could get seriously hurt. He was holding back where Alby clearly wasn't, landing blows full force, no awareness in his eyes of what he was doing.

The wind picked up again, screaming in her ears, whipping her sodden hair away from her neck. She moved forward right as something in Minho snapped. His eyes hardened as he shoved Alby away, slamming his fist into his nose. Blood sprayed down his shirt. The hit seemed to daze Alby, who let out a low groan of pain that didn't quite sound human, his hands scrabbling at his face. Crimson smeared across his skin.

Ada took the opportunity to lunge forward and wrench the dagger out of Alby's belt, tossing it as far to the side as she could. Alby let out a growl like a wounded animal, spittle flying from his throat as he ran at Ada, his eyes flashing menacingly. The sight knocked the breath from her lungs. Just before he could reach her, Minho slammed into him from the side, knocking Alby to the ground. Ada didn't waste a second, climbing on top of his thrashing legs and trying to use her body weight to keep him pinned. Minho had his hands clamped tight around Alby's wrists, pressing them hard into the ground.

"What the hell are you doing?!" He panted, rearing back as Alby ground his teeth together, eyes flashing. He wasn't looking at them, she noticed. Instead, his eyes were fixed skyward, vacant and murderous, so bloodshot the whites of his eyes were painted a mottled pink. Minho turned to Ada, his eyes wild and scared. "What's he doing?"

"I don't know," she huffed, trying to keep Alby's legs still. His knee collided painfully with her rib. Rain dripped down her face as she lowered her head, eyes scanning Alby for any signs of what could be wrong. Her heart felt heavy in her chest, weighed down by a profound fear she hadn't felt in a long time.

It had been one thing when Ben had lashed out, or Stephen, or even Nick, but this was Alby. Alby, who had been there with her from the very start, who had built this life with her and remained by her side through thick and thin. But the man on the ground beneath her wasn't her closest friend, her brother. He was a stranger, thrashing against their grip.

One helpless look at Minho confirmed every fear that threatened to drown her.

Her distraction gave Alby the split second he needed to kick his legs hard enough to dislodge her. As she landed in an ungraceful heap on the floor, a violent shock of pain ripping through her wrist, Alby's knee came up and collided with the side of Minho's head, sending him sprawling. Ada inhaled sharply, cradling her wrist close to her chest as Alby scrambled onto his front, hands clawing at Minho's ankles, drawing blood.

There was a flash of grey, a cry of pain, and Alby slumped forward as if he were a marionette whose strings had been cut.

Ada slowly lifted herself to her knees, lowering her hands. "... Minho?"

"Get this shank off of me," his disgruntled voice came from under the mass of muscle. Ada reached forward, carefully rolling Alby onto his back and freeing Minho, who looked nothing short of pissed. "What the hell just happened?"

"I could ask you the same question." Ada's fingers ghosted over Alby's hairline, where a jagged gash leaked blood onto his eyebrow. The rain made it seem worse than it actually was, streaking the red over the side of his face. She grimaced as she wiped it away, tears blurring her eyes.

Minho held up something sharp and grey that had a dull smattering of crimson on its side. "Rock." He said simply. He shifted himself until he was at her side, staring down at the sprawled form of their friend, looking about as lost as Ada felt. "Is he..."

"He's breathing." Ada's voice was shakier than she expected it to be. She pressed two trembling fingers into the side of Alby's neck, sighting in relief at the thready pulse beating beneath his skin. "His pulse is really weak. How hard did you hit him?" She asked incredulously.

"I don't think this one's on me." Minho slowly lifted one finger and pointed at Alby's abdomen, where the beige shirt was sticking to the harsh ridges of muscle. Through the sodden fabric she could just about see the shape of something dark and massive on his side. Her hands immediately reached for his shirt, tugging it up until his chest was exposed.

His entire torso was riddled with black veins, pulsing and writhing under his skin. There, on his lower left abdomen and right shoulder, were two twin puncture marks. Black crescent moons marked the space where the flesh had been ripped away from his body.

Ada gagged, immediately pushing herself away from Alby, lifting one hand to cover her mouth.

"No," Minho whispered. "No, that's not possible."

He said something else, but Ada didn't hear him. Not over the rushing of blood in her head, of her heart beating wildly in her chest. Flashes of Stephen's banishment, then Nick's, then Ben's swam in the forefront of her mind, only to be replaced with a similar image of Alby on his knees, incoherent and begging for his life as they pushed him through the doors. She shook her head to rid herself of it, but it wouldn't leave.

She wouldn't let it happen. It couldn't, not to Alby.

He couldn't leave her, not after he promised.

But he hadn't promised, that night they sat next to Avin's body. She had asked him to, told him she couldn't lose him, and he had refused to promise anything because he knew there was a chance his name could be crossed off the wall. And it would be, because Alby and been stung, and they all knew there was only one way forward from there.

"Ada," Minho's hand landed heavily on her shoulder, and she couldn't fight back the wince as she flinched away from him. Her face was wet, but she didn't know if it was from rain or tears. "We should get him back to the glade. It's getting dark."

She didn't care, suddenly. What was the point in going back to the glade, when all they would do is lock him away and then toss him straight back into the maze the following evening? What was the point, when she would have to watch him slip into madness so horrible he didn't even recognise her?

"Ada," Minho crouched in front of her, shaking her shoulder. "Ada, come on, we have to go or we're gonna get trapped."

So what? It was a horrible thought, but what did it matter? Without Alby, the glade would fall apart anyway. They stood no chance.

"Ada, please, let's go."

She looked up at Minho, at the bruise purpling on his cheek and jaw, at the usually perfect hair that had lost its volume and now lay flat and wet, plastered to his forehead. His eyes, the same eyes that were usually laughing and full of joy, were terrified.

"It's getting dark. If we don't leave now, we're gonna die too."

Die too, because Alby was already gone. Because he might as hell be lying there dead instead of just unconscious. And she would stay with him, gladly. Die by his side, drawing this life to a close in the same way they opened it, together.

But Minho didn't deserve to join them. He didn't deserve to die there, cold and wet and shivering in the maze. He deserved to make it home, to warmth and family and joy and laughter.

"Ada," Minho lifted a shaking hand to cup her cheek. "Let's go home."

She nodded, her body moving on auto pilot as she crawled over to Alby, struggling to wrap his arm around her shoulder. Her wrist ached violently, each movement sending stabbing pains coursing up her arm. Minho did the same, sighing in relief as together they hoisted Alby between them. "Where are we?" She asked, looking around at the desolate grey, but it all looked the same.

"By the edge of the sector," Minho shook his head, "it's gonna take hours to get back, and that's just running normally." He jerked his head down to where Alby was slumped between them, heavy and immobile. "We need to go, now."

Ada nodded, and as they set off each step felt like a thousand boulders weighing down on her.

The rain let up about half an hour into their journey, the skies taking pity on their pursuit as they slowly turned back to their normal blue, only slightly hindered by pale wisps of determined cloud. Ada breathed in deeply, trying to ignore the sweat sticking her already sodden shirt to her skin. Every movement made it chafe horribly, and with Alby's incredible weight strung over her back there was no respite from the discomfort.

"Jesus Christ," Minho panted, an hour in. "How is he this heavy? Is this really all muscle?"

"Why?" Ada huffed. "You jealous?"

"Please, I have abs of steel. I am a paragon of strength and fitness, I am-"

"Going to pass out soon?"

"It's a distinct possibility, yes."

Ada hummed in agreement, adjusting Alby's arm in an attempt to keep her legs from buckling. The sky was turning dangerously dark now, the grey mingled with threads of orange and pink. The incoming threat of darkness had her breathless with fear, the knowledge of what waited for them if they didn't make it back lighting up her nerve endings with terror.

Minho looked up at the sky, his face ashen. "Ada..."

"We can make it." She said stubbornly. They were so close to home, to their family and friends, and when they were there they'd find a way to help Alby. She would beg the creators herself if she had to.

Minho anxiously checked his watch as they picked up the pace, moving far slower than either of them would have liked. "We have fifteen minutes."

He didn't need to tell her that it was going to take twenty to get back.

She could see on his face what Minho was thinking. If they left Alby, they could make it out. They could get to safety. But she wouldn't do that. "No, Minho."

"I didn't say anything."

"I know what you're thinking, and no." She clutched Alby's hand closer to her chest, fingers reaching to feel the thready pulse in his wrist. "We're not leaving him here."

Minho simply grunted, his face shining with sweat. Each step dragged on for miles, with no respite from the weariness in their bones. Ada opened her mouth to speak again when the ground shook beneath them, a horrific gust of wind almost blowing them off their feet. Dust flooded her eyes and mouth as she staggered, Alby slipping further towards the ground as Minho started coughing into his sleeve.

Terror turned her veins to ice. "No..."

"Run," Minho coughed, his ashen face as white as paper. "Ada, run, now."

She nodded, lifting Alby up again as the deafening grind of metal on metal began to fill the air. His weight seemed amplified now, her aching legs barely able to support him as she and Minho dragged him forward as fast as they were possibly able.

But they weren't fast enough, and when they rounded the corner that took them to the final hallway, right as the last stretch of pink drained from the sky, it was to see the doors slowly creeping closed. The distance between her and freedom had never seemed so large before.

The gladers were waiting for them. She could just make them out, silhouetted in the dying sun, screaming and yelling something she couldn't hear over the sound of the blood rushing in her ears.

As she took another step forward, she was suddenly burdened by the majority of Alby's weight as Minho's leg gave out on him. The impact had her stumbling, her free hand reaching out to grip onto the wall, the sharp stabbing pains making her vision blur.

Her eyes focussed on the crowd in front of her, her friends, her family.

Him.

Newt was yelling, his eyes wide, glinting in the low light. Gally had a firm hand on his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle, but Newt's entire frame was stiff and poised as if he were ready to run through the rapidly closing gap to get to her. She shook her head, the movement sending sparks flashing across her vision unpleasantly. "Don't." She whispered, her voice cracked and lost in the roar of sound.

Minho grunted in pain and exhaustion beside her, hoisting Alby across his shoulders again, but the relief in weight did nothing as they stumbled forwards. "We can't," he mumbled, as Alby dropped like a stone in front of them. The sudden lightness nearly sent her to her knees. Minho leant down, grabbing Alby by the ankle, and she followed suit. But dragging him was fruitless, his dead weight snagging on the ground, their weak bodies no match for the time it took.

Ada looked behind her, over her shoulder at the doors, her eyes clashing with Newt's once again. His face was wet, with rain? Tears? Their yelling was breaking through the fog in her brain the closer they got, disjointed screams of encouragement and horror.

"Leave him!" Someone was yelling, but she wouldn't. She couldn't. Not Alby.

So her hands tightened around his skin, her nails breaking the flesh as she screamed in exertion. Minho was panting, his breath coming in jagged and broken puffs, but she didn't look at him. Her eyes remained fixed on the doors, at the gap that grew smaller and smaller, and suddenly she was back there, two years prior, and it wasn't Minho beside her, but George. And it wasn't Newt waiting for her, but Alby, eyes wild with panic.

"Come on!" Another voice broke the fog, but she could barely see the glade anymore, half the crowd taken from her view as the doors itched closer. Halfway down the hallway, she knew with blinding clarity that they weren't going to make it.

Time seemed to slow, blocking out the sound of their yelling, of their screaming, of her exhausted muscles violently protesting, until the gap in the doors was reduced to almost nothing. All she could see was Newt, struggling against Gally's hold, his mouth shaping what looked like her name.

Minho went down beside her, his body thudding exhausted to the floor. She was sure movement exploded by the doors, and the sounds of screaming amplified, but she couldn't hear any of it as her knees cracked against the concrete.

As the doors slid shut, sealing with an echoing slam, her eyes remained fixed on the place where she knew Newt stood waiting for her on the other side.