James Dashner - The Maze runner

“If we stay here, we’ll all die!” Minho yelled. “It’s worse than that?”

Alby stared at Minho a long time before answering. Thomas could only think of the words he’d just said. The Flare. Something about it was familiar, right on the edge of his mind. But he was certain he hadn’t remembered anything about that when he’d gone through the Changing.

“Yes,” Alby finally said. “It’s worse. Better to die than go home.”

Minho snickered and leaned back in his chair. “Man, you are one butt-load of sunshine, let me tell you. I’m with Thomas. I’m with Thomas one hundred percent. If we’re gonna die, let’s freakin’ do it fighting.”

“Inside the Maze or out of it,” Thomas added, relieved that Minho was firmly on his side. He turned to Alby then, and looked at him gravely. “We still live inside the world you remembered.”

Alby stood again, his face showing his defeat. “Do what you want.” He sighed. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll die no matter what.” And with that, he walked to the door and left the room.

Newt let out a deep breath and shook his head. “He’s never been the same since being stung-must’ve been one bugger of a memory. What in the world is the Flare?”

“I don’t care,” Minho said. “Anything’s better than dying here. We can deal with the Creators once we’re out. But for now we gotta do what they planned. Go through the Griever Hole and escape. If some of us die, so be it.”

Frypan snorted. “You shanks are driving me nuts. Can’t get out of the Maze, and this idea of hanging with the Grievers at their bachelor pad sounds as stupid as anything I’ve ever heard in my life. Might as well slit our wrists.”

The other Keepers burst out in argument, everyone talking over everyone else. Newt finally screamed for them to shut up.

Thomas spoke again once things settled. “I’m going through the Hole or I’ll die trying to get there. Looks like Minho will, too. And I’m sure Teresa’s in. If we can fight off the Grievers long enough for someone to punch in the code and shut them down, then we can go through the door they come through. We’ll have passed the tests. Then we can face the Creators themselves.”

Newt’s grin had no humor in it. “And you think we can fight off Grievers? Even if we don’t die, we’ll probably all get stung. Every last one of them might be waiting for us when we get to the Cliff-the beetle blades are out there constantly. The Creators’ll know when we make our run for it.”

He’d been dreading it, but Thomas knew it was time to tell them the last part of his plan. “I don’t think they’ll sting us-the Changing was a Variable meant for us while we lived here. But that part will be over. Plus, we might have one thing going for us.”

“Yeah?” Newt asked, rolling his eyes. “Can’t wait to hear it.”

“It doesn’t do the Creators any good if we all die-this thing is meant to be hard, not impossible. I think we finally know for sure that the Grievers are programmed to only kill one of us each day. So somebody can sacrifice himself to save the others while we run to the Hole. I think this might be how it’s supposed to happen.”

The room went silent until the Blood House Keeper barked a loud laugh. “Excuse me?” Winston asked. “So your suggestion is that we throw some poor kid to the wolves so the rest of us can escape? This is your brilliant suggestion?”

Thomas refused to admit how bad that sounded, but an idea hit him. “Yes, Winston, I’m glad you’re so good at paying attention.” He ignored the glare that got him. “And it seems obvious who the poor kid should be.”

“Oh, yeah?” Winston asked. “Who?”

Thomas folded his arms. “Me.”

The meeting erupted into a chorus of arguments. Newt very calmly stood up, walked over to Thomas and grabbed him by the arm; he pulled him toward the door. “You’re leaving. Now.”

Thomas was stunned. “Leaving? Why?”

“Think you’ve said enough for one meeting. We need to talk and decide what to do- without you here.” They had reached the door and Newt gave him a gentle push outside. “Wait for me by the Box. When we’re done, you and I’ll talk.”

He started to turn around, but Thomas reached out and grabbed him. “You gotta believe me, Newt. It’s the only way out of here-we can do it, I swear. We’re meant to.”

Newt got in his face and spoke in an angry rasp of a whisper. “Yeah, I especially loved the bit where you volunteered to get yourself killed.”

“I’m perfectly willing to do it.” Thomas meant it, but only because of the guilt that racked him. Guilt that he’d somehow helped design the Maze. But deep down, he held on to the hope that he could fight long enough for someone to punch in the code and shut down the Grievers before they killed him. Open the door.

“Oh, really?” Newt asked, seeming irritated. “Mr. Noble himself, aren’t ya?”

“I have plenty of my own reasons. In some ways it’s my fault we’re here in the first place.” He stopped, took a breath to compose himself. “Anyway, I’m going no matter what, so you better not waste it.”

Newt frowned, his eyes suddenly filled with compassion. “If you really did help design the Maze, Tommy, it’s not your fault. You’re a kid -you can’t help what they forced you to do.”

But it didn’t matter what Newt said. What anyone said. Thomas bore the responsibility anyway-and it was growing heavier the more he thought about it. “I just… feel like I need to save everyone. To redeem myself.”

Newt stepped back, slowly shaking his head. “You know what’s funny, Tommy?”

“What?” Thomas replied, wary.

“I actually believe you. You just don’t have an ounce of lying in those eyes of yours. And I can’t bloody believe I’m about to say this.” He paused. “But I’m going back in there to convince those shanks we should go through the Griever Hole, just like you said. Might as well fight the Grievers rather than sit around letting them pick us off one by one.” He held up a finger. “But listen to me-I don’t want another buggin’ word about you dying and all that heroic klunk. If we’re gonna do this, we’ll take our chances-all of us. You hear me?”

Thomas held his hands up, overwhelmed with relief. “Loud and clear. I was just trying to make the point that it’s worth the risk. If someone’s going to die every night anyway, we might as well use it to our advantage.”

Newt frowned. “Well, ain’t that just cheery?”

Thomas turned to walk away, but Newt called out to him. “Tommy?”

“Yeah?” He stopped, but didn’t look back.

“If I can convince those shanks-and that’s a big if -the best time to go would be at night. We can hope that a lot of the Grievers might be out and about in the Maze-not in that Hole of theirs.”

“Good that.” Thomas agreed with him-he just hoped Newt could convince the Keepers. He turned to look at Newt and nodded.

Newt smiled, a barely-there crack in his worried grimace. “We should do it tonight, before anyone else is killed.” And before Thomas could say anything, Newt disappeared back into the Gathering.

Thomas, a little shocked at the last statement, left the Homestead and walked to an old bench near the Box and took a seat, his mind a whirlwind. He kept thinking of what Alby had said about the Flare, and what it could mean. The older boy had also mentioned burned earth and a disease. Thomas didn’t remember anything like that, but if it was all true, the world they were trying to get back to didn’t sound so good. Still-what other choice did they have? Besides the fact that the Grievers were attacking every night, the Glade had basically shut down.