James Dashner - The Maze runner

Thomas sat down and grabbed a few. He held one of the papers up to the light, saw how it shone through with a milky glow. It was exactly what he needed.

He grabbed a marker. “All right, everybody trace the last ten or so days onto a piece of this stuff. Make sure you write the info on top so we can keep track of what’s what. When we’re done, I think we might see something.”

“What-” Minho began.

“Just bloody keep cutting,” Newt ordered. “I think I know where he’s going with this.” Thomas was relieved someone was finally getting it.

They got to work, tracing from original Maps to wax paper, one by one, trying to keep it clean and correct while hurrying as fast as possible. Thomas used the side of a stray slab of wood as a makeshift ruler, keeping his lines straight. Soon he’d completed five maps, then five more. The others kept the same pace, working feverishly.

As Thomas drew, he started to feel a tickle of panic, a sick feeling that what they were doing was a complete waste of time. But Teresa, sitting next to him, was a study in concentration, her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth as she traced lines up and down, side to side. She seemed way more confident that they were definitely on to something.

Box by box, section by section, they continued on.

“I’ve had enough,” Newt finally announced, breaking the quiet. “My fingers are bloody burning like a mother. See if it’s working.”

Thomas put his marker down, then flexed his fingers, hoping he’d been right about all this. “Okay, give me the last few days of each section-make piles along the table, in order from Section One to Section Eight. One here”-he pointed at an end-”to Eight here.” He pointed at the other end.

Silently, they did as he asked, sorting through what they’d traced until eight low stacks of wax paper lined the table.

Jittery and nervous, Thomas picked up one page from each pile, making sure they were all from the same day, keeping them in order. He then laid them one on top of the other so that each drawing of the Maze matched the same day above it and below it, until he was looking at eight different sections of the Maze at once. What he saw amazed him. Almost magically, like a picture coming into focus, an image developed. Teresa let out a small gasp.

Lines crossed each other, up and down, so much so that what Thomas held in his hands looked like a checkered grid. But certain lines in the middle-lines that happened to appear more often than any other-made a slightly darker image than the rest. It was subtle, but it was, without a doubt, there.

Sitting in the exact center of the page was the letter F.

Thomas felt a rush of different emotions: relief that it had worked, surprise, excitement, wonder at what it could lead to.

“Man,” Minho said, summing up Thomas’s feelings with one word.

“Could be a coincidence,” Teresa said. “Do more, quick.”

Thomas did, putting together the eight pages of each day, in order from Section One to Section Eight. Each time, an obvious letter formed in the center of the crisscrossed mass of lines. After the F was an L , then an O, then an A, and a T. Then C… A… T.

“Look,” Thomas said, pointing down the line of stacks they’d formed, confused, but happy that the letters were so obvious. “It spells FLOAT and then it spells CAT.”

“Float cat?” Newt asked. “Doesn’t sound like a bloody rescue code to me.”

“We just need to keep working,” Thomas said.

Another couple of combinations made them realize that the second word was actually CATCH. FLOAT and CATCH.

“Definitely not a coincidence,” Minho said.

“Definitely not,” Thomas agreed. He couldn’t wait to see more.

Teresa gestured toward the storage closet. “We need to go through all of them-all those boxes in there.”

“Yeah,” Thomas nodded. “Let’s get on it.”

“We can’t help,” Minho said.

All three of them looked at him. He returned their glares. “At least not me and Thomas here. We need to get the Runners out in the Maze.”

“What?” Thomas asked. “This is way more important!”

“Maybe,” Minho answered calmly, “but we can’t miss a day out there. Not now.”

Thomas felt a rush of disappointment. Running the Maze seemed like such a waste of time compared to figuring out the code. “Why, Minho? You said the pattern’s basically been repeating itself for months-one more day won’t mean a thing.”

Minho slammed his hand against the table. “That’s bullcrap, Thomas! Of all days, this might be the most important to get out there. Something might’ve changed, something might’ve opened up. In fact, with the freaking walls not closing anymore, I think we should try your idea-stay out there overnight and do some deeper exploring.”

That piqued Thomas’s interest-he had been wanting to do that. Conflicted, he asked, “But what about this code? What about-”

“Tommy,” Newt said in a consoling voice. “Minho’s right. You shanks go out and get Runnin’. I’ll round up some Gladers we can trust and get workin’ on this.” Newt sounded more like a leader than ever before.

“Me too,” Teresa agreed. “I’ll stay and help Newt.”

Thomas looked at her. “You sure?” He was itching to figure out the code himself, but he decided Minho and Newt were right.

She smiled and folded her arms. “If you’re going to decipher a hidden code from a complex set of different mazes, I’m pretty sure you need a girl’s brain running the show.” Her grin turned into a smirk.

“If you say so.” He folded his own arms, staring at her with a smile, suddenly not wanting to leave again.

“Good that.” Minho nodded and turned to go. “Everything’s fine and dandy. Come on.” He started toward the door, but stopped when he realized Thomas wasn’t behind him.

“Don’t worry, Tommy,” Newt said. “Your girlfriend will be fine.” Thomas felt a million thoughts go through his head in that moment. An itch to learn the code, embarrassment at what Newt thought of him and Teresa, the intrigue of what they might find out in the Maze-and fear.

But he pushed it all aside. Without even saying goodbye, he finally followed Minho and they went up the stairs.

Thomas helped Minho gather the Runners to give them the news and organize them for the big journey. He was surprised at how readily everyone agreed that it was time to do some more in-depth exploring of the Maze and stay out there overnight. Even though he was nervous and scared, he told Minho he could take one of the sections himself, but the Keeper refused. They had eight experienced Runners to do that. Thomas was to go with him-which made Thomas so relieved he was almost ashamed of himself.

He and Minho packed their backpacks with more supplies than usual; there was no telling how long they’d be out there. Despite his fear, Thomas couldn’t help being excited as well-maybe this was the day they’d find an exit.

He and Minho were stretching their legs by the West Door when Chuck walked over to say goodbye.

“I’d go with you,” the boy said in a far too jovial voice, “but I don’t wanna die a gruesome death.”

Thomas laughed, surprising himself. “Thanks for the words of encouragement.”

“Be careful,” Chuck said, his tone quickly melting into genuine concern. “I wish I could help you guys.”

Thomas was touched-he bet that if it really came down to it, Chuck would go out there if he were asked to. “Thanks, Chuck. We’ll definitely be careful.”

Minho grunted. “Being careful hasn’t gotten us squat. It’s all or nothing now, baby.”

“We better get going,” Thomas said. Butterflies swarmed in his gut, and he just wanted to move, to quit thinking about it. After all, going out in the Maze was no worse than staying in the Glade with open Doors. Though the thought didn’t make him feel much better.