the grandest of ideas. Everything was weird enough already.
Thomas put his head down and drew in a long, deep breath. He would just keep his mouth shut and run.
Two breaks later, Minho finally slowed to a walk as they headed down a long corridor that ended in a wall. He stopped and took a seat against the dead end. The ivy was especially thick there; it made the world seem green and lush, hiding the hard, impenetrable stone.
Thomas joined him on the ground and they attacked their modest lunch of sandwiches and sliced fruit.
“This is it,” Minho said after his second bite. “We’ve already run through the whole section. Surprise, surprise-no exits.”
Thomas already knew this, but hearing it made his heart sink even lower. Without another word-from himself or Minho-he finished his food and readied himself to explore. To look for who-knew-what.
For the next few hours, he and Minho scoured the ground, felt along the walls, climbed up the ivy in random spots. They found nothing, and Thomas grew more and more discouraged. The only thing interesting was another one of those odd signs that read World In Catastrophe-Killzone Experiment Department. Minho didn’t even give it a second glance.
They had another meal, searched some more. They found nothing, and Thomas was beginning to get ready to accept the inevitable-that there was nothing to find. When wall-closing time rolled around, he started looking for signs of Grievers, was struck by an icy hesitation at every corner. He and Minho always had knives clasped firmly in both hands. But nothing showed up until almost midnight.
Minho spotted a Griever disappearing around a corner ahead of them; and it didn’t come back. Thirty minutes later, Thomas saw one do the exact same thing. An hour after that, a Griever came charging through the Maze right past them, not even pausing. Thomas almost collapsed from the sudden rush of terror.
He and Minho continued on.
“I think they’re playing with us,” Minho said a while later.
Thomas realized he’d given up on searching the walls and was just heading back toward the Glade in a depressed walk. From the looks of it, Minho felt the same way.
“What do you mean?” Thomas asked.
The Keeper sighed. “I think the Creators want us to know there’s no way out. The walls aren’t even moving anymore-it’s like this has all just been some stupid game and it’s time to end. And they want us to go back and tell the other Gladers. How much you wanna bet when we get back we find out a Griever took one of them just like last night? I think Gally was right-they’re gonna just keep killing us.”
Thomas didn’t respond-felt the truth of what Minho said. Any hope he’d felt earlier when they’d set out had crashed a long time ago.
“Let’s just go home,” Minho said, his voice weary.
Thomas hated to admit defeat, but he nodded in agreement. The code seemed like their only hope now, and he resolved to focus on that.
He and Minho made their way silently back to the Glade. They didn’t see another Griever the whole way.
CHAPTER 45
By Thomas’s watch, it was midmorning when he and Minho stepped through the West Door back into the Glade. Thomas was so tired he wanted to lie down right there and take a nap. They’d been in the Maze for roughly twenty-four hours.
Surprisingly, despite the dead light and everything falling apart, the day in the Glade appeared to be proceeding business as usual-farming, gardening, cleaning. It didn’t take long for some of the boys to notice them standing there. Newt was notified and he came running.
“You’re the first to come back,” he said as he walked up to them. “What happened?” The childlike look of hope on his face broke Thomas’s heart-he obviously thought they’d found something important. “Tell me you’ve got good news.”
Minho’s eyes were dead, staring at a spot somewhere in the gray distance. “Nothing,” he said. “The Maze is a big freaking joke.”
Newt looked at Thomas, confused. “What’s he talking about?”
“He’s just discouraged,” Thomas said with a weary shrug. “We didn’t find anything different. The walls haven’t moved, no exits, nothing. Did the Grievers come last night?”
Newt paused, darkness passing over his face. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah. They took Adam.”
Thomas didn’t know the name, and felt guilty for feeling nothing. Just one person again, he thought. Maybe Gally was right.
Newt was about to say something else when Minho freaked out, startling Thomas.
“I’m sick of this!” Minho spat in the ivy, veins popping out of his neck. “I’m sick of it! It’s over! It’s all over!” He took off his backpack and threw it on the ground. “There’s no exit, never was, never will be. We’re all shucked.”
Thomas watched, his throat dry, as Minho stomped off toward the Homestead. It worried him-if Minho gave up, they were all in big trouble.
Newt didn’t say a word. He left Thomas standing there, now in his own daze. Despair hung in the air like the smoke from the Map Room, thick and acrid.
The other Runners returned within the hour, and from what Thomas heard, none of them had found anything and they’d eventually given up as well. Glum faces were everywhere throughout the Glade, and most of the workers had abandoned their daily jobs.
Thomas knew that the code of the Maze was their only hope now. It had to reveal something. It had to. And after aimlessly wandering the Glade to hear the other Runners’ stories, he snapped out of his funk.
Teresa? he said in his mind, closing his eyes, as if that would do the trick. Where are you? Did you figure anything out?
After a long pause, he almost gave up, thinking it didn’t work.
Huh? Tom, did you say something?
Yeah, he said, excited he’d made contact again. Can you hear me? Am I doing this thing right?
Sometimes it’s choppy, but it’s working. Kinda freaky, huh?
Thomas thought about that-actually, he was sort of getting used to it. It’s not so bad. Are you guys still in the basement? I saw Newt but then he disappeared again.
Still here. Newt had three or four Gladers help us trace the Maps. I think we have the code all figured out.
Thomas’s heart leaped into his throat. Serious?
Get down here.
I’m coming. He was already moving as he said it, somehow not feeling so exhausted anymore.
Newt let him in.
“Minho still hasn’t shown up,” he said as they walked down the stairs to the basement. “Sometimes he turns into a buggin’ hothead.”
Thomas was surprised Minho was wasting time sulking, especially with the code possibilities. He pushed the thought aside as he entered the room. Several Gladers he didn’t know were gathered around the table, standing; they all looked exhausted, their eyes sunken. Piles of Maps lay scattered all over the place, including the floor. It looked as if a tornado had touched down right in the middle of the room.
Teresa was leaning against a stack of shelves, reading a single sheet of paper. She glanced up when he entered, but then returned her gaze to whatever it was she held. This saddened him a little-he’d hoped she’d be happy to see him-but then he felt really stupid for even having the thought. She was obviously busy figuring out the code.
You have to see this, Teresa said to him just as Newt dismissed his helpers-they clomped up the wooden stairs, a couple of them grumbling about doing all that work for nothing.
Thomas started, for a brief moment worried that Newt could tell what was going on. Don’t talk in my head while Newt’s around. I don’t want him knowing about our… gift.
