-

Hazel's P.O.V

-

    "Is he gonna be alright?" I ask, kneeling down with Newt.
    "Where'd you go?" interrupts Minho, who was standing behind us.
    I turn my head to face the person Minho's talking to.
    "To talk to Teresa-" Thomas begins, he stops when he sees the look on my face. "What happened?"
    "Our Map Room was set on fire and you ran off to talk to your shuck girlfriend?! What's wrong with you?" Minho shouts.
    "I don't think it matters any more- if you haven't figured out the Maps by now..." Thomas trails off.

    Minho looked disgusted. "Yeah, this'd be a great freaking time to give up. What the-"
    "I'm sorry- just tell me what happened." Thomas leans over the shoulder of the boy's standing in front of him to get a better look at the body on the ground.
    It was Alby, flat on his back, with a huge gash running across his forehead. Blood streamed down both sides of his head, some into his eyes. Newt was cleaning it off with a wet rag, whispering to Alby.

    Thomas, turns to Minho and repeats his question.
    "Winston found him here, half dead, with the Map Room on fire." Minho begins. "Some shank got in there and put it out, but it was too late. All the trucks were burnt to a freaking crisp."
    "We suspected Alby at first, but as you can probably see whoever did it slammed his shuck head into the table." I add, standing up.
   "Who do you think did it?" Thomas asks, he seemed hesitant to tell us something.

    "Maybe Gally started the fire before he showed up in the Homestead and went psycho? Maybe the Grievers did it? I don't know, and don't care. Doesn't matter." Minho says.
    "Now who's the one giving up?" Thomas retorts.
    Oh my Griever, Thomas. Stop adding fuel to the fire, I beg silently.
    Minho's head snapped up so quickly I thought he might have whiplash.
   "That's not what I meant, shank."
    Thomas narrows his eyes in curiosity. "What did-"

    "Just shut your hole for now." Minho then put his fingers to his lips, his eyes darting to see if anyone was looking at him. "You'll find out soon enough."
    Thomas takes a deep breath. "Minho, I need to tell you, Hazel and Newt something. And we need to let Teresa out- she's probably starving and we could use her help."
    "That stupid girl is the last thing I'm worried about."
    Thomas ignored the insult, which surprised me. "Just give us a few minutes- we have an idea. Maybe it'll still work if enough Runners memorized their Maps."

    That seemed to get Minho's attention, but the expression on his face told me that he wasn't telling us something. "An idea? What?"
    "Just come to the Slammer with me. You and Newt."
    Minho thought about it for a second. "Newt!"
    "Yeah?" Newt stands up, refolding his bloody rag to find a clean spot. I couldn't help but notice that every centimeter of it was drenched in Alby's blood.
    Minho points down at the unconscious boy. "Let the Med-Jacks take care of him. We need to talk."

    Newt gives him a questioning look, then hands the rag to the closest Glader, which just happend to be Nathan. "Nathan, go and find Clint- tell him that we've got worse problems then guys with buggin' splinters."
    "Sure thing, Newt." Nathan says, taking the bloody rag in his hand, then running off to find the said Med-Jack.
    Newt steps away from Alby. "Talk about what?"
    "Just come with me." Thomas says. Then, he turns and heads for the Slammer without waiting for a response.
    "Can I come too?" I ask, facing at the two older boys.
    Minho nods his head. "Yeah. After all, you're still a Runner."

****

    "Let her out." Thomas stood by the cell door, his arms folded. "Let her out, and then we'll talk. Trust me- you'll wanna hear it."
    Newt shakes his head, sweat dripping down his blonde hair. He was covered in soot and dirt. He certainly didn't seem to be in a very good mood. "Tommy, this is-"
    "Please. Just open it- let her out. Please."
    I could tell that my brother wouldn't give up this time.

    Minho stood in front of the door with his hands on his hips. "How can we even trust her?" he asks. "The second she woke up, the whole Glade started to fall into pieces. She even admitted that she triggered something."
    "He's got a point." Newt says, nodding his head in agreement.
    Thomas gestures at Teresa. "We can trust her. Every time I've talked to her, it's always something about getting out of here. She was sent here just like the rest of us- it's stupid to think that she's responsible for all of this."

    Newt grunts. "Then what the bloody shuck did she mean when she said that she triggered something?"
    Thomas shrugs. "Who knows? Her mind was doing all kinds of weird stuff when she woke up. Maybe we all went through that in the Box, talking gibberish before we became totally awake. Just let her out."
    Newt and Minho exchange a long look.

    "Come on," Thomas insists. "What could she possibly do, run around and kill every shucking Glader in sight? Come on."
    "I still don't trust her." Newt says, crossing his arms.
    I roll my eyes, annoyed by their petty quarrels. "I trust her. Isn't that enough for you guys?"
    Minho sighs. "Fine. Just let the stupid girl out."
    "I'm not stupid!" Teresa shouts, her voice muffled by the thick walls. "I can hear every word you morons are saying!"

    Newt's eyes widen. "Real sweet girl you've picked up, Tommy."
    "I can say the same thing to you." Thomas retorts, rolling his eyes.
    That little shit.

    "Hey!" I exclaim, hitting my brother in the chest.
    "Just hurry," Thomas says, dismissing me entirely. "I'm sure we have a lot to do before the Grievers come back tonight- if they don't come during the day."
    Newt grunts and steps up to the Slammer, pulling the keys out as he does so. A few clinks later, the door swings wide open. "Come on."

    Teresa walkd out of the small building, glowering at Newt as she passed him. She gives a just-as-unplesent glare to Minho, but gives me a small smile -thanking me for standing up for her- then stops to stand next to Thomas, her arm brushing his slightly. I notice that Thomas's cheeks turned a light shade of pink.
    "All right, talk," Minho says, crossing his arms. "What's so important?"
    Thomas looks at Teresa, uncertainty written all over his face.

    "What?" Teresa says. "You talk. They obviously think I'm a serial killer."
     "Yeah, cause' you look so dangerous," Thomas mutters, but he turns his attention to Newt and Minho. "Okay, when Teresa first cam out of her deep sleep, she had memories flashing through her mind. She, um..."
    I give Thomas a look. That shank almost told them about our telepathy.

    "She told me later that she remembers that the Maze is a code." he corrects himself. "That maybe instead of solving it to find a way out, it's trying to send us a message."
    "A code?" Minho asks. "How is it a code?"
    Thomas shakes his head. "I don't know for sure, you guys are way more familiar with the Maps than I am. But I have a theory. That's why I hope you guys could remember some of them."
    Minho glanced at Newt, his eyebrows raised in question. Newt nodded.

    "What?" Thomas and I ask at the same time.
    "You guys keep acting like you have a big secret." we say.
    I look at my brother. "Shut up."
    He raises his hands in surrender.
    Minho rubs his eyes with both hands, and takes a deep breath. "We hid the Maps."
    At first it didn't make sense. "What?" Thomas and I say at the same time, again.
    I glare at him. "Seriously, dude. It's getting annoying."

    "More like creepy." Newt mutters under his breath.
   Minho shakes his head and points at the Homestead. "We hid the freaking Maps in the weapons room, put dummies in their place. Because of Alby's warning. And because of the so-called Ending that your girlfriend triggered."

    I was so happy to hear the news that I temporarily forgot how terrible things had become. I remembered Minho acting oddly suspicious the day before, saying he had a special assignment.

    Thomas and I both look over at Newt, who nods, confirming that what Minho had said was true.
    "They're all safe and sound," Minho says. "Every last one of those suckers. So if you have a theory, get talking."
    "Take me to them." Thomas says.
    "Okay, let's go."

****

    Minho switches on the light, making me squint my eyes for a second to get used to it. Menacing shadows clung onto the boxes of weapons scattered across the table and floor, blades and sticks and other nasty-looking devices seemed to wait there, ready to take on a life of their own, and kill the first person who was stupid enough to come close. The dank, musty smell only added to the eerie feel of the room.

    "There's a hidden storage cupboard back here." Minho says, walking past some dusty shelves into the darkest part of the room. "Only a couple of us know about it."
    I nod, feeling a bit disappointed that I wasn't included in the group. There was a creak of an old wooden door opening, and then Minho was dragging out a cardboard box across the floor; sound of it was like nails on a chalkboard to me. I wince and covered my ears with my hands.

    "You hate that sound, too?" I ask Thomas, who was covering his ears too.
    "Yeah. Like brother like sister, right?" says Thomas, giving me a small smile.
    Minho coughs. "I put each trunk's worth in its own box, eight boxes in total. They're all there."
   "Which one is this?" Thomas asks; kneeling down next to the box Minho had brought out, eager to get started.
    "Just open it and see, each page is marked, remember?"

    Thomas pulls on the criss-crossed lid flaps until they pop up. The Maps for section two lie in a messy heap. Thomas reaches in and pulls out a stack.
    "Okay," he says. "The Runners have always compared these day to day, looking to see if there was a pattern that would somehow figure out a way to an exit. You said that you didn't really know what you were looking for, but kept studying them anyway. Right?"

    Minho nods. He looks as if someone was about to reveal the secret to immortality.
    "Well," Thomas continues. "what if the wall movements had nothing to do with a map or a maze or anything? What if the pattern spelt words? Some kind of clue to help us escape."
    Minho points at the Maps in Thomas's hand, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Dude, do you have any idea how much we're studied these things? Don't you think we would've noticed if it spelt freaking words?"

    "Maybe it's too hard to see with the naked eye?" Thomas asks.

-

I'm so so so so so so so sorry that I took so long to update this chapter. There was something wrong with Wattpad, it didn't let me update this fanfic ;_;

I hope you guys haven't removed this fanfic from your reading lists yet.

I'll try to update more often.

-

P.S this chapter isn't edited

-

Vote, comment, rate, do whatever you want <3

-