Just before it latched shut, Thomas thought he heard the first eerie moan of the Grievers, coming from somewhere deep in the Maze.
The night had begun.
CHAPTER 38
Most of them slept outside in normal times, so packing all those bodies into the Homestead made for a tight fit. The Keepers had organized and distributed the Gladers throughout the rooms, along with blankets and pillows. Despite the number of people and the chaos of such a change, a disturbing silence hung over the activities, as if no one wanted to draw attention to themselves.
When everyone was settled, Thomas found himself upstairs with Newt, Alby and Minho, and they were finally able to finish their discussion from earlier in the courtyard. Alby and Newt sat on the only bed in the room while Thomas and Minho sat next to them in chairs. The only other furniture was a crooked wooden dresser and a small table, on top of which rested a lamp providing what light they had. The gray darkness seemed to press on the window from outside, with promises of bad things to come.
“Closest I’ve come so far,” Newt was saying, “to hangin’ it all up. Shuck it all and kiss a Griever goodnight. Supplies cut, bloody gray skies, walls not closing. But we can’t give up, and we all know it. The buggers who sent us here either want us dead or they’re givin’ us a spur. This or that, we gotta work our arses off till we’re dead or not dead.”
Thomas nodded, but didn’t say anything. He agreed completely but had no concrete ideas on what to do. If he could just make it to tomorrow, maybe he and Teresa could come up with something to help.
Thomas glanced over at Alby, who was staring at the floor, seemingly lost in his own gloomy thoughts. His face still wore the long, weary look of depression, his eyes sunken and hollow. The Changing had been aptly named, considering what it had done to him.
“Alby?” Newt asked. “Are you gonna pitch in?”
Alby looked up, surprise crossing his face as if he hadn’t known that anyone else was in the room. “Huh? Oh. Yeah. Good that. But you’ve seen what happens at night. Just because Greenie the freaking superboy made it doesn’t mean the rest of us can.”
Thomas rolled his eyes ever so slightly at Minho—so tired of Alby’s attitude.
If Minho felt the same way, he did a good job of hiding it. “I’m with Thomas and Newt. We gotta quit boohooing and feeling sorry for ourselves.” He rubbed his hands together and sat forward in his chair. “Tomorrow morning, first thing, you guys can assign teams to study the Maps full-time while the Runners go out. We’ll pack our stuff shuck-full so we can stay out there a few days.”
“What?” Alby asked, his voice finally showing some emotion. “What do you mean, days?”
“I mean, days. With open Doors and no sunset, there’s no point in coming back here, anyway. Time to stay out there and see if anything opens up when the walls move. If they still move.”
“No way,” Alby said. “We have the Homestead to hide in—and if that ain’t workin’, the Map Room and the Slammer. We can’t freaking ask people to go out there and die, Minho! Who’d volunteer for that?”
“Me,” Minho said. “And Thomas.”
Everyone looked at Thomas; he simply nodded. Although it scared him to death, exploring the Maze—really exploring it—was something he’d wanted to do from the first time he’d learned about it.
“I will if I have to,” Newt said, surprising Thomas; though he’d never talk about it, the older boy’s limp was a constant reminder that something horrible had happened to him out in the Maze. “And I’m sure all the Runners’ll do it.”
“With your bum leg?” Alby asked, a harsh laugh escaping his lips.
Newt frowned, looked at the ground. “Well, I don’t feel good askin’ Gladers to do something if I’m not bloody willing to do it myself.”
Alby scooted back on the bed and propped his feet up. “Whatever. Do what you want.”
“Do what I want?” Newt asked, standing up. “What’s wrong with you, man? Are you tellin’ me we have a choice? Should we just sit around on our butts and wait to be snuffed by the Grievers?”
Thomas wanted to stand up and cheer, sure that Alby would finally snap out of his doldrums.
But their leader didn’t look in the least bit reprimanded or remorseful. “Well, it sounds better than running to them.”
Newt sat back down. “Alby. You gotta start talkin’ reason.”
As much as he hated to admit it, Thomas knew they needed Alby if they were going to accomplish anything. The Gladers looked up to him.
Alby finally took a deep breath, then looked at each of them in turn. “You guys know I’m all screwed up. Seriously, I’m … sorry. I shouldn’t be the stupid leader anymore.”
Thomas held his breath. He couldn’t believe Alby had just said that.
“Oh bloody—” Newt started.
“No!” Alby shouted, his face showing humility, surrender. “That’s not what I meant. Listen to me. I ain’t saying we should switch or any of that klunk. I’m just saying … I think I need to let you guys make the decisions. I don’t trust myself. So … yeah, I’ll do whatever.”
Thomas could see that both Minho and Newt were as surprised as he was.
“Uh … okay,” Newt said slowly. As if he was unsure. “We’ll make it work, I promise. You’ll see.”
“Yeah,” Alby muttered. After a long pause, he spoke up, a hint of odd excitement in his voice. “Hey, tell you what. Put me in charge of the Maps. I’ll freaking work every Glader to the bone studying those things.”