You started towards Alby, speeding up until you were sprinting as fast as you could. He didn't seem to notice you at first, but when he did, he shot you a confused look.

        "Alby!" you called, waving, though his attention was already on you. The curiosity was almost overwhelming — what had they found? Had they even found anything? Why did Chuck look so excited?

        Alby didn't say anything as you arrived in front of him, just leaned back on one foot, his eyebrows raised questioningly. "Alby," you panted, bending over to lean on your knees. "Did... did they find... anything?" You were looking at the ground, and couldn't see his expression, but you heard him give a small grunt in response.

        "They did actually. Turns out, your little blue light incident was more important than we thought." You managed a small smile, and stood up straighter, lifting your head to meet his gaze.

        "And...?" You urged him to continue, beyond curious about what they'd found out there.

        "We... think it may be a way out," was all he said. You froze.

        A way out? Was he serious?

        "Oh, and I guess the girl's finally woken up, she's-" but he didn't have time to finish before a loud yelp sounded through the Glade. Your head snapped up, and you searched for the source of the noise, you eyes landing on the dark figure that was making its way towards the forest. It sped up as a few guys dashed after it, dropping what they were doing to give chase. One of them screamed something along the lines of "Wait! She's getting away!" You caught sight of Newt in the crowd of boys heading into the first layer of trees and felt a pang of longing. Since the Maze incident, he had hardly spoken to you, and you only now realized just how much you missed your friend.

        "Is that..." you trailed off, feeling stupid for even asking. It was obviously the first girl to arrive in the Glade, who had disappeared into the trees. It looked like she was following the way Thomas had gone.

        Alby stiffened beside you, and you turned to glance at him; what you saw terrified you. It was like a fire burned behind his eyes. He was glaring after the girl, gripping his the wrist that his watch sat on tightly, and visibly shaking with anger. Then, without a word, he dashed after Newt, vanishing behind the growing shadows the tall pines cast on the Glade.

        You wanted to follow but decided to back off, and let them deal with the girl; she was probably scared enough as it is, waking up with no memory, surrounded by a bunch of teenage boys. You chuckled, surprising yourself. You'd sure gotten used to everything so quickly — it seemed almost natural now.

        A loud commotion snapped you out of your thoughts. Boys, screaming, barking orders to one another. A few groups had formed and were now splitting off in all directions, each heading towards one of the four large doors that led to the Maze.

        Speaking of doors.... what time was it? The sky's dull color remained the same... but it felt late, and you fought back the sense of dread that was tugging at your chest. It inexplicably felt darker; eerier.

        The next half hour was a rush of panic and confusion. You'd briefly caught sight of the girl who'd run off earlier, being roughly shoved towards the Slammer by two heavily muscled boys. She didn't seem very worried; her face looked as if it was made of cold stone, hardened and emotionless.

    A couple builders had started putting up makeshift walls to block the main entrance to the Maze, piling pretty much anything they could find, and hammering them together to form a crude looking wall. You spotted Thomas in the mix, carrying crates over and hauling things out of them. Your head swam with confusion. What was going on? Why weren't the doors closing? It didn't make any sense.

        At some point, you remember being pulled along, handed a few things, then pushed off in some direction to deliver them... you didn't remember where. All you knew, was that at the moment, you, along with the rest of the Gladers, were being herded into the Homestead like scared sheep, hiding from a prowling wolf.

        The room exploded into a burst of loud whispers, sobs, a couple of stifled screams. You caught a few phrases like "I think I heard one," and "What are we gonna do about the shuck Grievers?" You'd never seen everyone so scared before.

        "We could sure use your gift right about now," a voice sounded next to you, making you jump a little. You'd been sitting on one of the musty old couches that littered the main room of the Homestead, and Minho sat next to you in a spindly, wooden chair. Next to him, was Thomas in another chair, then came Newt and Alby, who were sitting on the only bed there. All were muttering urgently amongst themselves. Minho had been the one who'd spoken, and you could hear the faint traces of sarcasm in his voice, but you wondered if there was any truth hidden behind it.

        Maybe you could go out and do to the Grievers what you'd done to the other one back in the Maze. It was worth a shot, you decided, standing up. A loud bang sounded somewhere outside, and you shuddered, forcing your legs to move towards the door.

        "What do you think you're doing?" Newt asked you, and you heard the bedspread squeak as he pushed himself to his feet.

        "I'm going to stop them," you answered, your throat dry. "I have to try, at least."

        "No, you're bloody not." The older boy said it with so much force, you almost flinched.

        "I can at least try to do something, stop them," you retorted, hoping you sounded more confident than you felt.

        "Or, you may be killed," he shot back. You stopped walking, but didn't tear your gaze from the door, didn't say anything. The room was full of hushed chatter, and no one seemed to notice your little outburst.

        A hand grasped your arm, pulling you a few steps away from the Homestead door. You tensed up. "Slim it nice and calm, Greenie," Newt muttered. "Those shuck things aren't gettin' anyone, might as well turn tail and run right back into the buggin' Maze." Now, you were standing beside the bed Newt had been sitting in, along with Alby. "Sit down (Y/N)." Newt's voice drifted past you, and you were flooded with a sudden happiness. At least he was talking to you again.... right?

        You weren't quite sure how much time had passed, sitting in that little bed. You guessed a few hours but didn't bother to ask anyone with a watch. The light outside stayed the same, dank and grey, and it was completely impossible to tell where the sun was supposed to be at that point.

        The creaking and high-pitched shrieks of Grievers continued, seeming to creep closer and closer with every passing second, and the Homestead walls did almost nothing to block it out. The hours dragged on painfully. One would pass, then the next, even more slowly than the first.

        Newt had fallen asleep next to you and was now snoring softly. One of his arms was hanging off the side of the bed, almost touching the floor. Thomas slept a few feet away, curled up, his back to you. You wondered how they'd even gotten to sleep. You'd drifted in and out of unconsciousness for a while, before finally giving up, and laying on your side, eyes wide and scared.

        You'd guessed Alby had wandered off somewhere because there was no sign of him anywhere in the large room. Some boys were huddled in corners, muttering to each other, but most were piled under blankets, their chests rising and falling peacefully.

        Just then, an especially loud screech emanated, followed by the scraping of metal on metal. Thomas jumped to his feet, and you shot up into a sitting position. Newt seemed to hear it as well because he was up and walking over to the wall before anyone else could react.

        "Thomas," you whispered, shuffling over to stand beside him and Newt. Both boys had their ears pressed up against the wood, their hands just below, as if they were getting ready to push the whole wall down. "What is it?" The boy sighed, giving up, and walked back to sit on the bed, Newt following suit.

        "I thought-" Thomas started, but was cut off as the whole building shuddered, the walls rumbling, looking like they might collapse. You involuntarily grasped Newt's arm, as it was the closest thing to you. He glanced at you, a look of surprise clearly splayed on his face, but didn't say anything.

        Another scrape rattled the window, and the remaining boys on the ground scrambled to their feet and shuffled as far from the window as they could. In the flurry, you tripped over someone's foot, and fell face-first, smashing your head painfully against the hard floor.

        "Oww," you moaned, instinctively bringing your hand up to grasp your throbbing forehead. The ringing in your ears drowned out everything; black spots dotted the edges of your vision. Your back was to the rest of the Gladers, and to the door. It was for this reason, you didn't see it swing open; didn't see Gally standing in the doorway, crazed and angry. Didn't hear what he was screaming about — and didn't see the board of wood he'd swung at the back of your head until it was too late.