TWENTY FOUR
「game of
danger」
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

UPON RETURNING TO the Glade, they found out the Box hadn't brought the weekly supplies. The Box had come up for one day every week, bearing supplies for them to live off of. Now, the very source they relied on for everything they had was gone. They could survive off the plants from the garden, but without the sun they would die out soon enough. The Creators must have decided they were finally going to kill the Gladers off.

Sylvia and Cole had been exiting the Map Room, done with their day's work, when a sudden commotion broke out in the Glade. She spotted Chuck with his curly reddish hair and frantically waving arms running across the open terrain of the Glade. He ran towards one of the Doors, where Newt, Alby, Minho, and Thomas stood. Sylvia glanced at Cole quickly before jogging over to the group.

As she came closer, her right ear picked up on the pudgy boy's shouts. "The girl's awake!"

At his words, she stopped in her tracks. Sylvia's eyes briefly glanced over Alby. The boy had seemingly recovered from the Changing, being left stingier than usual. Her eyes swept over the few of them and landed on Thomas, who seemed to pale considerably at the news. She narrowed her eyes at him.

The comatose girl was awake. The second girl in the Glade. Despite her misgivings, Sylvia felt a bubble of excitement rise in her. She had been waiting so long to see another girl. Quite frankly, she could use a break from being constantly surrounded by boys.

Newt brushed his hand against Sylvia's shoulder blade, and her head turned to him. He spoke in his distinct accent, "Come on. I figure the girl will be more comfortable with you than surrounded by the other idiotic shanks."

Sylvia smiled for what felt like the first time in a long time. It wasn't the brightest or the happiest smile. A just barely there smile, but a smile nonetheless. Newt grinned back at her and tugged her along.

Newt led Sylvia back to the Homestead and they made their way to the Med-jack's room. Though, upon opening the door, they only saw Jeff bent over in agony, hands over his crotch. Clint stood to the side with a cringed expression on his freckled face. There was no sign of the girl.

"What happened?" Newt questioned incredulously.

Clint cringed once again, and then sighed, "The girl kicked Jeff in the nuts junk and escaped."

At this, Sylvia started laughing uncontrollably. The sound bubbled up from her sternum and escaped past her teeth. She bent over, placing her hands on her knees as laughs shook her chest. She already liked this girl.

Jeff pointed at her, face screwed up in pain, "Don't laugh! It wouldn't be so funny if you got kicked in the nuts!"

Sylvia laughed harder. Newt threw his hands up wildly, "What do you mean she escaped?"

"She climbed out the window and ran!" Clint exclaimed, hiding an amused smile.

Newt groaned and dragged Sylvia's still laughing form out of the Homestead. He forced her to search the Glade with him. They checked the Bloodhouse, then the gardening shed. During their search, they noticed one crucial thing.

The Maze Doors. Gaping wide open, menacing as the whistling wind winded through the towering corridors. The Maze Doors hadn't closed tonight.

AFTER COMING TO this dreadful realization, Sylvia broke away from searching for the girl and instead went to find Minho or any of the other Runners. The Doors, the one thing that's kept them safe from the Grievers roaming at night all these years, hadn't closed. Maybe it was an error on the Creators' part? She seriously doubted it. The Creators didn't make mistakes.

She found Minho in the Map Room. She frantically pushed open the heavy metal door with a wild look in her eyes. Minho stood from his seat as soon as he saw her. Sylvia plucked knives off their assortment on the wall and began hiding them in various places on her body. Minho grabbed her arm to stop her frantic movements.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked worriedly.

"The Doors, Minho." She knitted her brows as she looked at him, expression unraveled for once in her life. "The Doors didn't close."

Minho ran out of the Map Room, with Sylvia hot on his trail. He ran to the closest Door, only to see that what she had said was true. They were still gaping wide open, an invitation for the monsters that lay inside.

A rising dread settled in her gut. How could this happen? How could the Creators let this happen?

The Keepers of the Runners desperately made their way to the middle of the Glade and found that the Builders had started gathering supplies to create a barricade on the Doors. They both made the plan to round up all the Runners and get everyone to help. Sylvia didn't know how much time they had until the Grievers decided to take a trip to their home. They needed to work as fast as possible.

Sylvia rounded up Kit, Cole, and Stephen with her. She brought them over to where Oscar was working on the South Door. He had taken Gally's position as Keeper of the Builders, since Gally had seemingly disappeared after the last Gathering. No one had spotted the boy since. They didn't know if he was hiding somewhere in the Glade, or if he had ventured out into the Maze, but no one really had time to worry about it. Sylvia still found herself concerned over what had happened to Gally, they were somewhat close to being friends after all.

As she worked with Oscar and the other boys on barricading the Doors, she noticed the other Gladers running around and gathering materials. Flashlights, food, and other supplies were being carried into the Homestead. She could faintly spot Builders shutting up the windows of the Homestead with slabs of wood.

The graveness of the situation hit her with full force. The Glade would be destroyed. No matter their efforts, the Grievers would break into the Glade and destroy everything they had. Their home.

Sylvia would do whatever it took to defend it. She would protect her home and her family. She couldn't lose anyone else. She was sure that if she did, it might just kill her. She didn't know how much more she could take.

Once they had run out of materials, Sylvia helped the others carry in the last of the supplies, and then entered the Homestead. As soon as the last couple of Gladers entered, Thomas being one of them, she helped Oscar bolt up the door, hammering woodens slabs to the posts.

She glanced around the Homestead once they were finished. Boys were packed into every available corner. She searched the crowd of boys. Sylvia spotted Newt's head of blond hair in the crowd and pushed her way through. She got his attention and questioned the boy, "Where's the girl?"

"In the Slammer." He responded distractedly.

Sylvia recoiled at the information. "What!? Why?"

"Because I ordered it," Alby interjected, crossing his arms over his chest. "Said she triggered the Ending or some klunk. She basically said she caused this."

"That doesn't even make any sense." Sylvia spat.

"The girl will be fine. Slammer's probably safer anyway." Newt added before the two of them could get to arguing. Sylvia blew out a breath. She didn't have time to worry about this new girl, despite the fact that she was intrigued by her. The Grievers were the problem at hand. And like Newt said, she was probably safer in the Slammer anyway.

Alby and Newt began sending Gladers here and there, telling them to split up and divide into rooms. After everyone had found a room to settle in. A couple of the Keepers gathered in Nick's old room—her room. Despite Cole not being a Keeper, Sylvia refused to have him anywhere else than by her side. So, he sat on Nick's bed beside her. Newt sat on the edge on the bed, fussing with a rip in the sleeve of his shirt.

Minho, Thomas, and Alby sat in chairs around the bed. Minho sat in the one closest to her desk, and fumbled with some of the objects there. It was a mix of Nick's and her own. She scolded him and slapped his hand away from her stuff.

Sylvia didn't keep much in Nick's old room. Just the wobbly wooden dresser in the corner, a small stack of paperbacks on top of it. The wooden desk held a dingy lamp, which provided the only light in the room. With the windows boarded up, no dim gray light was able to trickle into the room from the outside. Sylvia felt the air simmer with fear.

"Closest I've come so far," Newt was saying, "to hangin' it all up. Shuck it all and kiss a Griever goodnight. Supplies cut, bloody gray skies, walls not closing. But we can't give up, and we all know it. The buggers who sent us here either want us dead or they're giving us a spur. This or that, we gotta work our arses off till we're dead or not dead."

"We're all about to be attacked by Grievers and you still can't just say asses?" Sylvia questioned the boy quietly, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Newt rolled his eyes at her. "I like not being a bad influence on the younger ones around here."

She scoffed, "I am not a bad influence."

"Sure about that?" Minho raised a brow in her direction. He shrugged, "I heard poor little Chucky dropping the f-bomb the other day."

Sylvia whipped a pencil from her bedside table at his head and he quickly deflected it. "You're such a fucking liar!" She hissed, almost grinning.

Newt gave her a pointed look for her use of language. She pursed her lips.

"Anyway, we gotta defend this place with all we have." Newt glanced around the room, sight landing on Alby. "Alby? Are you gonna pitch in?"

Distractedly, Alby looked up, almost as if he was surprised at being acknowledged. "Huh? Oh. Yeah. Good that. But you've seen what happens at night. Just because Greenie the freaking superboy made it doesn't mean the rest of us can."

Out of the corner of her eye, Sylvia could see Thomas roll his eyes, and she had to fight to stifle a smirk.

Minho started, "I'm with Newt. We gotta quit boohooing and feeling sorry for ourselves." He rubbed his hands together and sat forward in his chair. "Tomorrow morning, first thing, you guys can assign teams to study the Maps full-time while the Runners go out. We'll pack our stuff shuck-full so we can stay out there a few days."

"Days?" Sylvia asked with furrowed brows. "You want to go out overnight?"

Minho nodded. "I mean days. With open Doors and no sunset, there's no point in coming back here, anyway. Time to stay out there and see if anything opens up when the walls move. If they still move."

"Ronan tried staying out there overnight." She said hotly. "You know what happened to him."

"Ronan?" Thomas questioned, but he was ignored due to Alby's next outburst.

"No way," Alby said. "We have the Homestead to hide in—and if that ain't workin', the Map Room and the Slammer. We can't freaking ask people to go out there and die, Minho! Who'd volunteer for that?"

"Me," Minho said. "And Thomas."

All of them looked to the boy, who simply nodded. Sylvia was impressed by his show of bravery, but was still uncertain of the idea. Staying out in the Maze overnight?

"I will if I have to," Newt said. "And I'm sure all the Runners'll do it."

They then looked to Sylvia. Cole watched her, curious of what she'd say. She shook her head lightly. "I'm sure they would. But overnight?" Her lip thinned. "I don't want to lose anyone else. Not like we lost Ronan, or any of the others who got stuck out there." She said the last part quietly, head dipped. She was sure they knew she was talking about Nick as well, and how his crazy idea got him killed.

"We survived." Thomas spoke up, staring at Sylvia. She held his gaze. "We can do it. We can show all the Runners that tuck and roll trick too. It might be helpful"

Newt nodded. "We'll do whatever we have to."

"With your bum leg?" Alby asked, a harsh laugh escaping his lips

Sylvia threw a heated glare at Alby. How could he say something like that? Alby knew what Newt did to make his leg the way it was. Her hatred for him boiled hot in her throat, her blood sizzling.

Newt frowned and looked at the ground. "Well, I don't feel good askin' Gladers to do something if I'm not bloody willing to do it myself."

Alby leaned back in the chair, sighing, "Whatever. Do what you want."

"Do what I want?" Newt asked, standing up. "What's wrong with you, man? Are you telling me we have a choice? Should we just sit around on our butts and wait to be snuffed by the Grievers?"

Alby looked disinterested at best. The Changing must have really screwed with him. "Well, it sounds better than running to them."

Newt sat back down. "Alby. You gotta start talkin' reason."

Alby finally took a deep breath, then looked at each of them in turn. "You guys know I'm all screwed up. Seriously, I'm...sorry. I shouldn't be the stupid leader anymore."

Sylvia tilted her head up a bit. She wasn't going to disagree with that.

"Oh bloody—" Newt started.

"No!" Alby shouted, his face showing humility. "That's not what I meant. Listen to me. I ain't saying we should switch or any of that klunk. I'm just saying...I think I need to let you guys make the decisions. I don't trust myself. So...yeah, I'll do whatever."

Sylvia could see the surprise on each of their faces.

"Uh...okay," Newt said slowly, as if he was unsure. "We'll make it work, I promise. You'll see."

"Yeah," Alby muttered. After a long pause, he spoke up, a hint of odd excitement in his voice. "Hey, tell you what. Put me in charge of the Maps. I'll freaking work every Glader to the bone studying those things."

"Works for me," Minho said, then glanced at Sylvia. Both of them were the Keepers of the Runners. They had to make decisions together.

"The more people studying the maps, the better." She shrugged. Then she turned her head towards the window, seeing if she could see anything through the thin cracks in the wood. She couldn't hear their conversation now, her left ear to them. Her right ear was to the window, and she tried to listen for any sign of the Grievers. She couldn't hear or see anything. She supposed that was a good sign.

Newt caught her attention again, his voice raised enough to reach her right ear, "You can't be serious. You can't go out there now!"

Her head turned swiftly towards them. Alby was standing, his hand on the doorknob. "I'm going, and that's that." Alby took his ring of keys from his pocket and rattled them. "See you shucks in the morning."

He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"Where's he going?" Sylvia asked.

Thomas furrowed his brows at her, "Didn't you hear any of that?"

She said simply, "No."

Newt explained, "Said he wanted to start studying the maps now. Tried to convince him to stay in but the buggin' shank wouldn't listen."

"Weird." She said, looking at the door to Nick's room inquisitively.

THE NIGHT CAME quickly, despite the unchangingness of the gray sky outside. Sylvia offered her bed to Cole, and she had to practically beg him to take it. She knew she would not sleep tonight, so there was no point in her having it.

Several others had been crammed into her room, all of them taking the floor's space, tucked under thick blankets and worn down pillows. The lot of them were restless, tossing and turning through the long hours. Sylvia sat on the bed next to Cole's sleeping form. She had taken one of the paperbacks from Nick's dresser and attempted to pass the time with it. Though, she often found herself distracted by every little sound, looking out the cracks in the boarded up windows anxiously.

Cole stirred beside her, and she watched as he tucked his head closer to Bark's fur. The dog didn't protest at the hands wrapped around him. His chest lifted and fell silently, and his eyelids fluttered with waking every so often. His nimble fingers were calloused and scarred with the Maze's brutality. She wondered how such marred hands could create such beautiful things.

His artwork hung on the walls of the Homestead, like reclamations of a normal life. Nick insisted on hanging the pieces up, saying that it would bring more life to the Glade. More normalcy. Nick had hung the art in the hallways, in the lounge room, anywhere he could find space really. He often looked at the pieces with pride, like a heartwarming older brother.

God, she missed him. She knew Cole missed him too. Everytime he looked at the painted landscape of an ocean he'd drawn for Nick, Sylvia could see the twitch in his fingers with the want to tear it down. It was a heavy reminder of the boy.

Every so often, Sylvia would hear the distant moans and wails of the Grievers. The waiting was almost unbearable. She thought, maybe they won't come into the Glade at all. But even she wasn't naive enough to believe that.

Sylvia felt her eyelids droop, and she leant her head against the wall. She gave herself the relief of closing her eyes, allowing her muscles to relax a bit. It was deep into the night now, maybe a little past two in the morning. She felt herself drift. Maybe sleep would take her after all.

The sudden whirr of machinery startled her out of her stupor. The hiss of gears and the clicks of metal on stone sent shivers down her spine. Her body shook profusely as shivers racked her, the room feeling very cold all of a sudden. The boys in the room woke, some dazed and not quite understanding what was happening, others with immediate realization on their faces.

Sylvia held a finger to her lips, ensuring that they all stayed quiet. She peeked through the window again, but didn't have much range of view. She could only spot the corner of a silver blade. The hair on the back of her neck stood. The cracking and splitting of wood could be heard beyond the Homestead's walls.

She looked back to the Gladers in her room and nodded grimly. Their eyes widened. Sylvia glanced at Cole, who was wide awake now and petting Bark's neck soothingly. He was the only other Runner in the room. The rest of the Gladers had regular jobs; Med-jack, Track-hoe, Cook. None of them had dealt with something like this before.

Sylvia had to force herself to breathe steadily. She needed to be brave, for the rest of them. She was the example to follow. She kept a stony expression despite the pounding of her heart in her chest. Everything fell silent for a moment. She couldn't hear clicks or whirrs or cracking wood.

Then, the wood of her wall splintered and yelps of surprise pierced the air. Sylvia gripped Cole's wrist and Bark's collar and jumped off the bed. "Get in the hallway!" She hissed at them.

The Gladers scrambled out of the room madly. Sylvia was the last one out of the room and quickly shut the door behind her. All of them had split up, some running down the stairs and others running into different rooms. She quickly ordered Cole to go down the stairs and take Bark with him. The boy complied, leading a few other boys behind him.

Sylvia glanced down the hallway and spotted an open door with boys streaming out of it. It was the door to her old room, now Newt's. She pushed past the frenzied boys and stopped in her tracks when she reached the doorway. Gally was in the room, eyes crazed and sickly purple veins bulging from his skin.

He was clawing at the boards nailed to the window, and Newt was on the bed, blood soaking the sheets from a laceration on his head. The boy was looking at Thomas now. "You shut your shuck-face, Thomas. You shut up! I know who you are, but I don't care anymore. I can only do what's right."

She paused, "What the hell, Gally?" Sylvia hesitated for a split second, then bounded into the room.

She swung at him, ready to knock him out cold, but he snatched her wrist with lightning speed, and threw her backwards. She landed on the ground with a grunt, her shoulder taking the brunt of the fall. Dizzily, she watched as he ripped another board free from the window. An explosion of glass instantly followed, and Sylvia felt parts of the glass tear at her skin.

A Griever's sickly green, bulbous body was squeezing its way into the window. Sylvia searched the floor for a discarded weapon and quickly grabbed the handle of an abandoned knife. The Griever's appendage was reaching its way into the room, arm outstretched towards Newt's unconscious body. Sylvia threw the knife into the Griever's skin and it shrieked. She kicked the metal leg away from Newt.

The Griever paused when Gally started speaking again, as if it could comprehend the boy. "No one ever understood!" the boy screamed over the horrible noise of the creature, crunching its way deeper into the Homestead, ripping the wall to pieces. "No one ever understood what I saw, what the Changing did to me! Don't go back to the real world, Thomas! You don't...want...to remember!"

"Gally, shuck it!" She yelled, snarling. "Just calm down. You're sick, alright?"

Gally glanced at Sylvia briefly, shaking his head, before his eyes settled on Thomas. His eyes were hollow and haunted. His expression wild. He turned and dove into the flesh of the Griever. The creature's arms clasped onto Gally's limbs and pushed him further in. A horrible, squelching sound filled the air as he sunk further.

Sylvia forced herself to move, grabbing onto Gally's ankle and pulling, trying to get him out of the Griever's grasp. One of its appendages released the boy to smack Sylvia. She was thrown back onto the ground, and the Griever slid out the window, taking Gally with it. Thomas scrambled to help the girl up. Once on her feet, her head spun and her vision swirled. Thomas dragged her to the window with him, looking out to watch as the Griever retreated back into the Maze. The rest began to follow it.

Through her blurry vision, she spotted a smaller figure running after them. She blinked furiously until her sight cleared enough to see who it was.

It was Minho, sprinting into the Maze after the Grievers.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

rip gally, you will be missed (until your next appearance)

also, you guys might have noticed that i've changed up the chapter titles! i've been reading percy jackson lately so title inspiration from the one and only (so excited for the disney+ show!!!!)