Sky's POV

No. No I will not die here, not like this.
I am stronger than that. I hear the grievers distantly in the maze. I need to think, if I'm going to survive the night, I've got to use my brain. I push away the thoughts of my friends and stand, rubbing my temples with my fingers.

I clear all of the fear, doubt, and shock out of my mind, I need to be able to think clearly. what do I know about grievers? I know what they look like, and that is about it, but that will not be enough. I need something more, a memory?

Ever since I came up in the box, I've remembered nothing, just like everyone else. I search my mind anyways. As expected I come to what feels like a wall, a wall blocking out my memories. You cannot go around it, or over it, or under it, believe me I've tried. So this time when I reach the wall, where my memories hide, I try something different. Instead of trying to go around it, I try and push through it.

I sit down, close my eyes and concentrate. I focus hard on the memory of the griever, and something starts to tickle the back of my mind. I can feel the memory on the tip of my brain, and I push harder trying to grasp the memory. The pain it causes is unbearable, almost.

If I'm going to survive I need this memory, so I push through the pain and force the memory to come back. To my surprise it does.

I'm siting in room, like a classroom, watching a screen near the front. Someone, some sort of teacher I'm guessing, is pointing to the screen. People sit around me, but their faces are nothing but a blur of color.

On the screen is a picture. A picture of a griever. But the griever is sliced open revealing the machinery inside, what appears to be an engine turns causing the arms and legs to move. The creature is tied down, an oily substance oozing out of its skin as the motor turns. The teacher begins talking as the screen goes dark.

Then the memory recedes, leaving me alone in the maze, with a dull headache. Despite my current predicament, I smile, I just shucking remembered something! But I don't have time to celebrate or try to bring back more. Instead I think about the memory, trying to come up with anything useful that will help me survive the night. Oil. Grievers are machines, and they run on oil.

A smile lights up my face as I consider my plan. It will be all or nothing, but really what have I got to lose? Only Everything. I think to myself as I take inventory of my supplies.

I have my knife, a bottle of water I had in my hand, my backpack, which contains a notebook, a pen and the pack of matches I never gave back from the bonfire. Ok I can do this I think as I start on my plan.

I've never ran this section of the maze, but the principle is the same, the main corridors don't move, only the outer ones. I jog down one of the corridors to the left, it ends in a sharp left corner. perfect. I walk to the end of the corridor and start cutting off three foot sections of ivy. Once I have about twenty sections, I split them in half, piling half in a heap behind me. The other half I take, and with my knife, begin to sharpen the ends into spear points. I work as quickly as I can, hearing the grievers growing ever closer. I knick myself with the knife a few times, but if that's the worst injury I get tonight, I'll be thrilled.

Finally I have them all completed. I can hear the grievers moaning, they are close now. I walk over to the pile, pulling the matches out of my bag. I strike one, all or nothing, I take a deep breath and drop the match.

My plan for tonight. Grievers are machines, machines run on oil, oil is flammable. Fire. I will burn them, or die trying.

I watch in relief as the ivy catches fire, I wasn't sure if it would even burn. I tear strips of fabric from the bottom of my shirt, wrapping them around the tips of my spears. I need to be able to light them quickly for this to work.

Now the hard part, waiting. I wait, my knife in one hand, one of the spears in the other, bouncing on the balls of my feet. It's like the grievers are playing games with me, toying with my mind. Come on already, let's get this over with! Lesson of the day: be careful what you wish for.

Whirrr click whirrr click

The griever comes rolling down the stone path. Moaning, then rolling into a ball before shooting forward. The sight of it makes me want to puke. I stand still, barely breathing, hoping it will go away. Just then a red light illuminates me, making me look up.

A beetle blade. The creators' spies. I groan as the griever turns and heads straight for me. Here we go.

I light the tip of the spear just as the thing starts to charge. I wait in horror until the thing is just feet away, then I hurl the flaming spear at its head. The tip of the spear sinks into the griever's slimy flesh. It continues to charge.

Hopelessness washes over me, and I'm about to give up when the griever bursts into flames, shrieking as its skin bubbles and boils. I was right. Grievers are flammable. That was too close for comfort however, and I make note to throw the spear when the griever is farther away. The smell of the burning griever is noxious, the thick black smoke making me choke and gag.

I wait nearly two hours before the next griever arrives. It comes down the other corridor, moaning, whirring and clicking. Once it is close enough I take aim and throw, but the spear misses to the right and the griever keeps coming. I light another spear just as it closes in. I am cornered. I wait and just as the griever reaches me I dive to the right throwing the spear into its side as I jump. I land behind it, as the griever, unable to stop itself, slams into the wall. I cover my head with my arms as it explodes, showering me with burning, gooey oil, and disgusting bits of green flesh.

Way too close, I think as I stand up, examining the small burns I received from being too close to the explosion. Luckily they are minor, I will be fine.

The hours tick by, no more grievers in sight. Apparently the still burning corpses of their comrades are a deterrent.

I'm exhausted and starving but I can't afford to sleep. One mistake could cost me my life. A half-hour till sunrise. I'm almost there, I've almost made it. Suddenly a griever rounds the corner in front of me. One more, I can do this.

I wait until it gets closer, then throw the spear. This time, I don't miss. I watch, satisfied, as the griever bursts into flames.

Suddenly Searing pain electrifies my body as a razor sharp blade slices into my back. I have failed.

I jump forward over the fire, landing hard on my side, but ignoring the blazing pain, I jump to my feet, standing to face the griever. My heart pounds wildly in my chest, my lungs gasping for air. It pounces, pinning me to the ground before I can react. It pins my left arm, the sharp blade digging into my flesh. No, I didn't make it this long to die now. Just as the needle comes towards me, I shove my right hand straight up, plunging the knife deep into the creatures body. I hear the awful sound of metal scraping against metal, reminding me of my time in the box, and then with a hiss, the creature dies, collapsing on top of me.

I struggle out from under the griever, cutting myself a few times on random instruments that protrude from its body. Free from the griever, I sit against the wall, panting, my head pounding with pain. The griever is dead, but I might not be too far behind.

I examine my wrist and find a deep cut oozing blood. I can't move my left shoulder without nearly fainting, so it's probably broken, and I don't need to see the laceration on my back to know it isn't good. I put my right hand against the wound and when I draw it back, it's covered in blood.

I sigh, too much blood. I'm losing way too much blood. I glance at my watch, which is also soaked in blood. I wipe it on my pants and check the time. it's sunrise now, which means no more grievers, Thank goodness, half an hour until the doors open.

How long does it take to bleed out? I guess we'll see.