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Chapter Text

She woke up, surrounded by darkness.

She could hear metal grind against metal. She shuffled backward on her hands and feet. Her back struck a hard metal wall; she slid along it until she hit the corner of the room. She sank to the floor, hoping her eyes would soon adjust to the darkness.

With another jolt, the room jerked upward like an old lift in a mine shaft.

Harsh sounds of chains and pulleys echoed through the room. The lightless elevator swayed back and forth, making the girl nauseous and a smell like burnt oil invaded her senses, making her feel worse. 

Victoria, she thought. Wait, is that my name?

That… was the only thing she could remember about her life.

She didn’t understand how this could be possible. Knowledge flooded her thoughts, facts and images, memories and details of the world and how it works. She pictured snow on trees, swimming in a lake, a busy road with traffic piled up.

And yet she didn’t know where she came from, or how she’d gotten inside the dark lift, or who her parents were. In fact, she didn’t even know her last name or one person she knew, or recall a single conversation.

Victoria grew immune to the ceaseless rattling of the chains that pulled her upward. A long time passed. Minutes stretched into hours, although it was impossible to know for sure because every second seemed like an eternity. 

With a groan and then a clonk, the rising room halted and the sudden change threw Victoria across the hard floor. As she scrambled to her feet, she felt the room sway less and less until it finally stilled. Everything fell silent.

A minute passed. Then, two. She looked in every direction but saw only darkness.

Victoria backed into the corner once again and shivered. 

A loud clank rang out above her and she sucked in a startled breath as she looked up. A straight line of light appeared across the ceiling of the room, and Victoria watched as it expanded. A heavy grating sound revealed double sliding doors being forced open. After so long in darkness, the light stabbed her eyes and she looked away, covering her face with both hands.

She heard noises above—voices—and fear squeezed her chest.

“It’s a girl!”

“Why is there a girl now?”

“Woah, she’s hot!”

“She’s kinda cute...”

“Dibs!”

“You can’t call dibs on a person, John.”

Victoria was hit with a wave of confusion mixed with panic. The voices were odd, tinged with echo; some of the words were completely foreign—others felt familiar. She could see shapes of bodies—people bending over the hole in the ceiling, looking down at her.

They were boys, all of them—some young, some older. 

Someone lowered a rope from above with the end of it tied into a big loop. Victoria hesitated, then stepped into it with her right foot and clutched the rope as she was yanked toward the sky. Hands reached down, lots of hands, grabbing her by her clothes, pulling her up. The world seemed to spin, a swirling mist of faces and color and light. A storm of emotions wrenched her gut, twisted and pulled; she wanted to scream, cry, throw up. The chorus of voices had grown silent, but someone spoke as they yanked her over the sharp edge of the dark box. And Victoria knew she’d never forget the words.

“Nice to meet ya, shank,” the boy said. “Welcome to the Glade.”

Chapter Text

The helping hands didn’t stop swarming around her until Victoria stood up straight. Still dazzled by the light, she staggered a bit. She was consumed with fear. 

As she looked at her companions, the kids snickered and stared. There had to be at least thirty of them, their clothes smudged and sweaty as if they’d been hard at work, all shapes and sizes and races, their hair of varying lengths. Victoria’s eyes flickered from the boys to the place in which she’d found herself.

They stood in a vast courtyard several times the size of a football field, surrounded by four enormous walls made of gray stone and covered in spots with thick ivy. The walls had to be hundreds of feet high and formed a perfect square around them, each side split in the exact middle by an opening as tall as the walls themselves that, from what Victoria could see, led to passages and long corridors beyond.

Victoria focused back in on the strangers around her. A tall kid with blond hair and a square jaw sniffed at her, his face devoid of expression. A tall boy with slight muscles looked at Victoria with wide eyes. A thick, heavily muscled Asian kid folded his arms as he studied Victoria, his tight shirtsleeves rolled up to show off his biceps. A skinny kid with dark hair stood with his arms crossed—the same one who’d welcomed her. A dark-skinned boy frowned. Countless others stared.

“Where am I?” Victoria asked. Her voice didn’t sound quite right—higher than she would’ve imagined.

“Nowhere good.” This came from the dark-skinned boy. “Just slim yourself nice and calm.”

Different emotions battled for dominance in her mind and heart. Confusion. Panic. Fear. She wanted to hide in a corner and cry.

A boy with a scratchy voice spoke. “—bet my liver on it.” 

“I said shut up!” the dark haired boy said. “Keep talking and next break will be cut in half!”

That must be their leader, Victoria realized. Hating how everyone gawked at her, she concentrated on studying the place the boy had called the Glade.

The floor of the courtyard looked like it was made of huge stone blocks, many of them cracked and filled with long grasses and weeds. An odd, dilapidated wooden building near one of the corners of the square contrasted greatly with the gray stone. A few trees surrounded it, their roots like gnarled hands digging into the rock floor for food. Another corner of the compound held gardens—from where she was standing Victoria recognized corn, tomato plants, fruit trees.

Across the courtyard from there stood wooden pens holding sheep and pigs and cows. A large grove of trees filled the final corner; the closest ones looked crippled and close to dying. The sky overhead was cloudless and blue, but Victoria could see no sign of the sun despite the brightness of the day. The creeping shadows of the walls didn’t reveal the time or direction—it could be early morning or late afternoon. As she breathed in deeply, trying to settle her nerves, a mixture of smells bombarded her. Freshly turned dirt, manure, pine, something rotten and something sweet. Somehow she knew that these were the smells of a farm.

Victoria looked back at the boys, feeling awkward. Suddenly the leader of the group—perhaps he was seventeen—took a step forward. He wore normal clothes: blue T-shirt, jeans, tennis shoes, a digital watch. The boy had dark hair, his face clean shaven. He had a slight smile on his face.

“It’s a long story, shank,” the boy said. “Piece by piece, you’ll learn—I’ll be taking you on the Tour tomorrow. Until then… just don’t break anything.” He held a hand out. “My name’s Nick.” He waited, clearly wanting to shake hands.

Victoria hesitantly shook hands with him. 

“Tell me the long story,” Victoria said, struggling to keep her voice even.

Nick glanced at the friends closest to him, and Victoria studied the crowd again. Her original estimate had been close—there were probably thirty of them, ranging from boys in their midteens to young adults like Nick, who seemed to be one of the oldest. At that moment, Victoria realized with a sickening lurch that she had no idea how old she was. 

“Where am I?” she insisted.

“You’ll do fine here,” Nick said.

“Where is here?” Victoria asked, fiddling with her fingers.

“Shuck it,” the dark-skinned boy said, rubbing his eyes. “You’re in the Glade. Name’s Alby, Greenie.”

Victoria’s eyes widened, and another boy stepped up and playfully slapped Alby across the head. “Wait for the bloody Tour, Alby,” he said, his voice thick with an odd accent. “Girl’s gonna have a buggin’ heart attack, nothin’ even been heard yet.” He extended his hand toward Victoria. “Name’s Newt, Greenie, and we’d all be right cheery if ya’d forgive our klunk-for-brains co-leader, here.”

Victoria reached out and shook the boy’s hand—he seemed a lot nicer than Alby or Nick. Newt was taller than the both of them too, but looked to be a year or so younger. His hair was blond and cut short. 

“Pipe it, shuck-face,” Alby grunted. “At least he can understand half my words.” There were a few scattered laughs, and then everyone gathered behind Nick, Alby, and Newt, packing in even tighter, waiting to hear what they said.

Nick spread his arms out, palms up. “This place is called the Glade. It’s where we live, where we eat, where we sleep—we call ourselves the Gladers. That’s all you need to know.”

Victoria nodded.

“First Day. That’s what today is for you. Night’s coming, Runners will be back soon. The Box came late today, ain’t got time for the Tour. Tomorrow morning, right after the wake-up.” He turned toward Newt. “Get her a bed, get her to sleep.”

“Good that,” Newt said.

Nick’s eyes returned to Victoria. “In a few weeks, you’ll be happy and helping. None of us knew anything on First Day. Your new life begins tomorrow.”

Nick turned and pushed his way through the crowd, then headed for the slanted wooden building in the corner. Most of the kids wandered away then, each one giving Victoria a lingering look before they walked off.

Victoria took a deep breath. Tears threatened again to fill her eyes, but she refused to let them come.

Newt clapped her on the shoulder. “Greenie, what you’re feelin’, we’ve all felt it. We’ve all had First Day, come out of that dark box. Things are bad, they are, and they’ll get much worse for ya soon, that’s the truth. But down the road a piece, you’ll be fightin’ true and good. I can tell you’re not a bloody sissy.”

Victoria said nothing.

“You’ll be stayin’ with me,” Newt said. “Follow me.”

They made their way into a building.

“Room’s the third to the right. If ya need to talk with Nick or Alby, rooms are across the way.“

“Thanks, uh, Newt,“ Victoria smiled at him and walked down the hallway. 

She soon reached the door and opened it. The room was messy, pieces of paper with writing on them were scattered everywhere.

Victoria grabbed one of multiple pillows and a blanket from the bed. She threw the pillow on the ground and covered her body with the blanket. Sleep came much more easily than she’d expected.

Chapter Text

Someone shook Victoria awake. Her eyes snapped open to see a too-close face staring down at her, everything around them still shadowed by the darkness of the room and outside. She opened her mouth to speak but a cold hand clamped down on it, gripping it shut. Panic flared until she saw who it was.

“Shh, Greenie.”

It was Newt—the guy who seemed to be nice; the air reeked of his morning breath.

Though Victoria was surprised, any alarm melted away immediately. Victoria nodded. Newt finally took his hand away, then leaned back on his heels.

“Come on, Greenie,” the tall boy whispered as he stood. He reached down and helped Victoria to her feet. “Supposed to show ya somethin’ before the wake-up.”

Any lingering haze of sleep had already vanished from Victoria’s mind. “Where are we going and why are you supposed to show me something?” she asked. She held some suspicion, having no reason to trust anyone yet. 

“Just follow me. And stay close.”

They snuck their way out of the small building.

Once they left the lawn area and stepped onto the hard gray stone of the courtyard floor, Newt broke into a run, heading for the western wall. Victoria hesitated at first, but snapped out of it and and followed at the same pace.

The light was dim, but any obstructions loomed as darker shadows and she was able to make her way quickly along. She stopped when Newt did, right next to the massive wall towering above them. Victoria noticed small red lights flashing here and there along the wall’s face, moving about, stopping, turning off and on.

Newt stepped forward and dug his hands into the thick ivy, spreading several vines away from the wall to reveal a dust-frosted window, a square about two feet wide. It was dark at the moment, as if it had been painted black.

A minute passed, then two. Several more. Victoria stood there, perfectly patient and still, staring into nothing but darkness.

Then it changed.

Glimmers of an eerie light shone through the window; it cast a wavering spectrum of colors on Newt’s body and face, as if he stood next to a lighted swimming pool. A thick lump grew in her throat. 

“Out there’s the Maze,” Newt whispered, eyes wide as if in a trance. “Everything we do—our whole life, Greenie—revolves around the Maze. Every lovin’ second of every lovin’ day we spend in honor of the Maze, tryin’ to solve somethin’ that’s not shown us it has a bloody solution, ya know? And we want to show ya why it’s not to be messed with. Show ya why them buggin’ walls close shut every night. Show ya why you should never, never find your butt out there.”

Newt stepped back, still holding on to the ivy vines. He gestured for Victoria to take his place and look through the window.

Victoria did. It took a second for her eyes to focus on the moving object on the other side, to look past the grime and dust and see what Newt wanted her to see. And when she did, she felt her breath catch in her throat, like an icy wind had blown down there and frozen the air solid.

A large, bulbous creature the size of a cow but with no distinct shape twisted and seethed along the ground in the corridor outside. It climbed the opposite wall, then leaped at the thick-glassed window with a loud thump. Victoria shrieked, jerked away from the window—but the thing bounced backward, leaving the glass undamaged.

Victoria leaned in once again. It was too dark to make out clearly, but odd lights flashed from an unknown source, revealing blurs of silver spikes and glistening flesh. Wicked instrument-tipped appendages protruded from its body like arms: a saw blade, a set of shears, long rods whose purpose could only be guessed.

The creature was a horrific mix of animal and machine. Victoria felt an icy terror blossom in her chest expand like a balloon. Even with the memory wipe, she felt sure she’d never seen something so truly awful.

She stepped back.

“What is that thing?” she asked. 

“Grievers, we call ’em,” Newt answered. “Nasty bugger, eh? Just be glad the Grievers only come out at night. Be thankful for these walls.”

Victoria swallowed, knowing that whatever happened, she didn’t want to become a Runner.

Newt looked at the window absently. “Now you know what bloody lurks in the Maze. Now you know this isn’t joke time. You’ve been sent to the Glade, and we’ll be expectin’ ya to survive and help us do what we’ve been sent here to do.”

“And what’s that?” Victoria asked.

Newt turned to look her dead in the eye. The first traces of dawn had crept up on them, and Victoria could see every detail of Newt’s face, his skin tight, his brow creased.

“Find our way out,” Newt said. “Solve the buggin’ Maze and find our way home.”

A couple of hours later, the doors having reopened, rumbling and grumbling and shaking the ground until they were finished, Victoria sat at a worn, tilted picnic table outside the Homestead.

She just didn’t get it; her brain was on overload trying to cope with what was going on. 

A tap on his shoulder jarred him from her thoughts; she looked up to see Nick standing behind her.

“The Tour begins now.” He started to move but then stopped, holding up a finger. “No questions till the end, understand?”

“Uh…” Victoria trailed off, unsure what to say. Nick raised his eyebrows. “Sure.”

“Right, let’s go.”

“Can I come?” A boy with blonde hair asked from the table.

Nick clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Don’t you have a job to do, Alex?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Have fun.”

She walked away with Nick, and the Tour had officially begun.

Chapter Text

They started at the Box, which was closed at the moment—double doors of metal lying flat on the ground, covered in white paint, faded and cracked. The day had brightened considerably. She still hadn't spotted the sun, but it looked like it was about to pop over the eastern wall at any minute.

Nick pointed down at the doors. "This is the Box. Once a month, we get a Newbie like you. Once a week, we get supplies, clothes, some food. We don't need a lot— we pretty much run ourselves in the Glade."

Victoria nodded.

"We don't know anything about the Box." Nick continued. "Where it came from, how it gets here, who's in charge. The shanks that sent us here haven't told us nothin'. We have all the electricity we need, grow and raise most of our food, get clothes and such. We tried to send a slinthead Greenie back in the Box one time—thing wouldn't move till we took him out."

Nick kept talking. "Glade's cut into four sections." He held up his fingers as he counted off the next four words. "Gardens, Blood House, Homestead, Deadheads. Got that?"

Victoria hesitated, then nodded.

Nick pointed to the northeast corner, where the fields and fruit trees were located. "Gardens—where we grow the crops. Water's pumped in through pipes in the ground—always has been, or we'd have starved to death a long time ago. It never rains here." He pointed to the southeast corner, at the animal pens and barn. "Blood House—where we raise and slaughter animals." He pointed at the pitiful living quarters. "Homestead—stupid place is twice as big than when the first of us got here because we keep adding to it when they send us wood. It isn't pretty, but it works. Most of us sleep outside anyway."

Nick pointed to the southwest corner, the forest area fronted with several sickly trees and benches. "We call that the Deadheads. Graveyard's back in that corner, in the thicker woods. You can go there to sit, rest, and hang out." He cleared his throat, as if wanting to change subjects. "You'll spend the next two weeks working one day for our different job Keepers—until we know what you're best at. Slopper, Bricknick, Bagger, Track-hoe—something will stick, it always does. Come on."

Nick walked toward the South Door, located between what he'd called the Deadheads and the Blood House. Victoria followed, wrinkling her nose up at the sudden smell of dirt and manure coming from the animal pens. At the smell, she turned her attention to the pens in the Blood House area.

Several cows nibbled and chewed at a trough full of greenish hay. Pigs lounged in a muddy pit, an occasionally flickering tail the only sign they were alive. Another pen held sheep, and there were chicken coops and turkey cages as well. Workers bustled about the area, looking as if they'd spent their whole lives on a farm.

Nick pointed to the large barn in the back corner, its red paint long faded to a dull rust color. "Back there's where the Slicers work. If you like blood, you can be a Slicer."

Victoria shook her head. Slicer didn't sound good at all.

Nick stopped walking, and Victoria was surprised to see they'd reached the South Door; the two walls bracketing the exit towered above them. The thick slabs of gray stone were cracked and covered in ivy. She craned her neck to see the top of the walls far above. She returned her attention to Nick, who had his back to the exit.

"Out there's the Maze." Nick motioned behind him, then paused. Victoria stared in that direction, through the gap in the walls that served as an exit from the Glade. The corridors out there looked much the same as the ones she'd seen from the window by the East Door early that morning.

Nick continued. "I've been here two years. Nobody has been here longer than me." Nick paused. "We've tried to solve this for two years, but no luck. The walls move out there at night. The Runners map the Maze, but it's difficult." He nodded toward a concrete-blocked building.

"The Number One Rule is that nobody but the Runners are allowed in the Maze."

Victoria nodded.

A movement up on the left wall of the South Door caught her attention. Startled, she reacted quickly, looking just in time to see a flash of silver. A patch of ivy shook as the thing disappeared into it.

Victoria pointed up at the wall. "What was that?" she asked.

Nick didn't bother looking. "Beetle blades—it's how the Creators watch us."

"Oh." Victoria said, with no emotion on her face.

They walked to southeast corner, until they reached the animal pens and barn.

"This is the Bloodhouse, where the Slicers work. Everybody has to have a job, no slackers. There's nine jobs, which are the Builders, Sloppers, Baggers, Track-hoes, Slicers, Cooks, Bricknicks, Med-jacks, and Runners. The first job you're going to try is the Slicers. The Keeper of the Slicers is Winston." Nick paused. "We'll go meet him and you'll start working."

Winston was an acne-covered kid, short but muscular, and it seemed to Victoria the Keeper liked his job way too much.

Winston showed Victoria around for the first hour, pointing out which pens held which animals, where the chicken and turkey coops were, what went where in the barn. The dog, a pesky black Lab named Bark, took quickly to Victoria, hanging at her feet the entire tour. He seemed to have gotten his name as a joke, because he was pretty quiet.

The second hour was spent actually working with the farm animals—feeding, cleaning, fixing a fence, and scraping up poop.

The third hour was the hardest for Victoria. She had to watch as Winston slaughtered a hog and began preparing its many parts for future eating. Victoria swore two things to herself as she walked away for lunch break. First, her career would not be with the animals; second, she'd never again eat something that came out of a pig.

Winston had said for her to go on alone, that he'd hang around the Blood House, which was fine with Victoria. She walked around the Glade for the rest of the day.

Chapter Text

Victoria went to bed early that night.

The next morning, dawn had barely touched the sky before the working sounds of the Glade wakened Victoria from the deepest slumber since she’d arrived. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She closed them for a second.

Her peace didn’t last a minute.

Someone tapped her shoulder and she opened her eyes to see Newt staring down at her. 

“Get up.”

“Yeah, good morning to you, too. What time is it?”

“Seven o’clock, Greenie,” Newt said with a mocking smile. “Figured I’d let ya sleep in.”

Victoria rolled into a sitting position, hating that she couldn’t just lie there for another few hours. “Sleep in? What are you guys, a bunch of farmers?” 

“Uh… yeah, now that ya mention it.” Newt plopped down beside Victoria and folded his legs up under himself. He sat quietly for a few moments, looking out the window at all the hustle-bustle starting to whip up across the Glade. “Gonna put ya with the Track-hoes today, Greenie. See if that suits your fancy more than slicin’ up bloody piggies and such.”

“What’s a Track-hoe?”

“It’s what we call the guys workin’ their butts off in the Gardens—tilling, weeding, planting and such.”

Victoria nodded in that direction. “Who’s the Keeper?”

“Zart. Nice guy, s’long as you don’t sluff on the job, that is. Anyways, come on, let’s get us some grub from Frypan. And hope we don’t bloody choke.”

That morning, Victoria finally met the infamous Frypan, if only from a distance. The guy was too busy trying to feed breakfast to an army of starving Gladers. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old, but he had a full beard and hair sticking out all over the rest of his body, as if each follicle were trying to escape the confines of his food-smeared clothes. 

Victoria and Newt joined Alex for breakfast at a picnic table right outside the Kitchen.

Victoria spent the morning with the Keeper of the Gardens, “working her butt off,” as Newt would’ve said. Zart was a tall, black-haired kid, who for some odd reason smelled like sour milk. He didn’t say much, but showed Victoria the ropes until she could start working on her own. Weeding, pruning an apricot tree, planting squash and zucchini seeds, picking veggies. She didn’t love it, and mostly ignored the other boys working alongside her, but she didn’t hate it nearly as much as what she’d done for Winston at the Blood House.

Victoria and Zart were weeding a long row of young corn when Victoria decided it was a good time to start asking questions. 

“So, Zart,” she said.

The Keeper glanced up at her, then resumed his work. The kid had droopy eyes and a long face—for some reason he looked as bored as humanly possible. “Yeah, Greenie, what you want?”

“How many Keepers total are there?” Victoria asked.

“Well, you got the Builders, the Sloppers, Baggers, Cooks, Map-makers, Med-jacks, Track-Hoes, Blood Housers. The Runners, of course. I don’t know, a few more, maybe.”

Most of the words were self-explanatory, but Victoria wondered about a couple of them. “What’s a Slopper?” 

“That’s what the shanks do that can’t do nothin’ else. Clean toilets, clean the showers, clean the kitchen, clean up the Blood House after a slaughter, everything. Spend one day with them suckers—that’ll cure any thoughts of goin’ that direction, I can tell ya that.”

“What about the Track-hoes?” Victoria asked as she yanked out a huge weed, clumps of dirt swaying on the roots.

Zart cleared his throat and kept on working as he answered. “They’re the ones take care of all the heavy stuff for the Gardens. Trenching and whatnot. During off times they do other stuff round the Glade. Actually, a lot of Gladers have more than one job. Anyone tell you that?”

Victoria ignored the question and moved on. “What about the Baggers?”

“Those are the creepy fellas. They act as guards and poh-lice, too. Everyone just likes to call ’em Baggers. Have fun that day, sister.” He snickered, the first time Victoria had heard him do so—there was something very likable about it.

By the time midafternoon arrived, Victoria was ready to collapse from exhaustion.

Tired and sore, she headed to the Kitchen for a snack and some water. She could’ve eaten a full-blown meal despite having had lunch just two hours earlier. 

She bit into an apple, then plopped on the ground. After finishing her apple, she decided not to eat dinner, and went to bed early.

Chapter Text

ONE WEEK LATER

The next week went by quickly. During the week Victoria worked all of the jobs. She found herself sitting outside the Homestead as the Keepers and Leaders discussed what her job would be.

After what felt like forever, listening to the boys bicker back and forth as she hung her head and stared at the ground, she heard footsteps. She looked up to see Nick come out of the Homestead and gesture her inside. She followed him to a big room that she hadn’t ever seen before.

All of the Keepers were there, about twelve boys in total. She reluctantly sat down in the seat situated in front of the other seats, where the Keepers sat.

“So, we’ve all decided,“ Nick glanced around at the Keepers. “That you’re going to be a Med-jack, Greenie.“

Victoria nodded, secretly hiding her smile. She liked her time at the Homestead treating minor injuries. 

“You start tomorrow in the Homestead with Jeff. Meeting adjourned.“ Nick smiled at Victoria and walked past her and outside of the room. All of the other boys surged forward to leave as well. Newt, who she had grown a bit closer to in the past week, shot her a smile and left the room with the other boys.

Victoria picked herself up off of the chair and left the room, which was now empty. She left the Homestead and out into the Glade.

One of the boys she met while working with the Track-Hoes, Max, sprinted towards her. “Heard you got Med-jack, Greenie.“ He panted. “How does it feel?“

“Literally the same. Didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?“

“So you start tomorrow. I’ll have to make sure to get hurt.“ Max winked and ignored her question.

Victoria rolled her eyes. “Don’t you have a job to do?“

“Oh, yeah! See you later, Greenie!“ Max jogged away, back to the Gardens.

“I told you to stop calling me that!“

Max waved his hand dismissively. 

The rest of the day went by slowly, mostly because she had nothing to do. When dinner time came around, she made her way towards the Kitchen along with the other Gladers. She sat down at the table she had been sitting at for the past week. Soon enough, Max, Alex, and Louis joined her at the table. 

“So, little Vicky’s now a Med-jack, huh?“ Louis stabbed his fork into a piece of chicken.

“’Little Vicky’ is not that much better than Greenie.“ Victoria muttered.

“Huh? Did I just hear you want to be called Greenie again?“

“No, no, never mind.“ Victoria shook her head. “Anyways, isn’t there anything else better to talk about?“

Newt suddenly approached the table and sat down with a plate of food. “Nope, place is pretty boring. You’re all anybody is talking ’bout, I’m sure.“

Victoria sighed and stabbed her fork into a carrot, popping it into her mouth.

“Well, I’m going to bed.“ Alex suddenly stood up with his plate, giving it to the Cooks and walking to the Homestead.

“Yeah, I’m heading off too. Night guys.“ Louis stretched and did the same as Alex.

“Bye.“ Max went his own way, too. That only left Victoria and Newt to sit there in silence while they picked at their food with their forks.

Newt broke the silence. “Excited for ya new job, Greenie?“

“Yeah I guess.“ Victoria ignored the name he called her.

Newt hummed. “Gettin’ pretty late. Should be goin’ off to bed. Comin’?“

“Sure.“ Victoria grabbed her plate and gave it to the Cooks. Newt and Victoria went to their shared room.

“Get a good nights rest, Greenie. Gon’ need it tomorrow.“ Newt rolled over in his bed to face away from her.

“Good night, Newt.“ Victoria closed her eyes and rested her head on her pillow.

“’Night.“

Chapter Text

Victoria woke up early the next morning to Newt shaking her awake.

“Wake up. First day on the job.“ 

Victoria quickly put on her shoes and ran her fingers through her hair. Newt led her to the room in the Homestead where the Med-jacks worked. She was quickly introduced to the only Med-jack, Jeff. After Newt left, Jeff showed her where the supplies were and how they should be organized. He quickly put her to work sorting the supplies and making sure they had supplies to last for the rest of the week. If they needed a restock, she wrote it down on a piece of worn paper.

After hours of working, it was lunch time. Jeff let her go to lunch a few minutes early. At lunch, she quickly ate her food and went back to work when everybody else did.

In the last half of the work day, Victoria spent her time learning how to treat minor injuries when a Builder came into the room with a cut on his hand. She disinfected the cut and wrapped it in a bandage. “Keep the bandage on your hand for a few days.” Victoria ordered the injured boy. He nodded, stood up, and left the room to go back to his job.

The rest of her work day was nothing spectacular. Nobody else came in. Once it was about to be time for dinner, Jeff let her leave for the day. She went to the Kitchen, grabbed a plate, and got in line. 

“Hey Vicky!” Louis waved at her from his place in line a few people behind her. She smiled and waved back at him. Louis pushed the boys separating them out of the way. Some of the boys rolled their eyes but Louis paid no mind and grabbed her shoulder with his free hand. 

“How was your first day on the job?”

“It was alright, but it was kinda boring.” Victoria shrugged.

“Oh, well I hope there's no action there.”

Victoria only nodded her head before looking forward, seeing as if it was going to be her turn to get her food soon. After the boy in front of her moved forward, she shuffled after him. She saw Frypan with a smile on his face, plopping soup from a pot into everyone's bowl. he got her food and sat down at a table. Louis soon joined her and she saw Newt get up from his seat with some other boys and walking over to joined their table. Once Newt sat down, she greeted him.

“Hi.”

“Hello. How was the day?”

Victoria shrugged. “Boring.”

The three sat in silence for a long time. The only thing heard was the clanking of utensils and the voices of the boys sitting around them. Alex and Max didn't join them that day. Probably sitting with other people, Victoria thought.

After eating, Newt and Victoria got up to put away their plates and went off to bed.

Chapter Text

THREE MONTHS LATER

Life was normal for Victoria. Every day she would get up early to work her job at the Med-jack hut. After working for a few hours, she would take a break for lunch and go back to her job, where she would work for a few more hours before dinner. At dinner, she would sit with Louis, Alex, Max, and Newt. She became closer with all of the boys, but much closer to Newt than anyone else. 

Victoria noticed, though, that Newt had slowly became... different. Something was off with him, and she did want to find out, but decided against asking him what was wrong, deciding that if he had something wrong, he would just come to her. They always came to each other to discuss their days and what they were feeling.

The day that everything changed seemed normal. In the morning, Victoria said goodbye to the Runners that were going that day, which excluded Newt. 

After saying goodbye, she walked off to her job. That day, there wasn't much patients at all, not even ones with minor injuries such as cuts or bites from insects. 

A few hours passed by. Victoria was cleaning up after one of the few patients she did have that day, when she heard a commotion. Victoria sent a look to Jeff and he nodded. They both ran outside to see what was going on. She saw a group forming around one of the entrances to the Maze. Once they reached the entrance after pushing through, Victoria gasped in horror. The scene made her feel sick to her stomach.

Newt was laid on the ground, his ankle twisted in an awkward position. Minho stood over him and was already talking to Nick.

“What the shuck happened to him?!“ Victoria yelled, interrupting their conversation.

“He... uh...“ Minho mumbled.

“Let’s get him fixed up in the Med-jack hut.“ Nick stated, sending a look Victoria’s way. She glared at him and crossed her arms, whipping around and walking back to the Med-jack hut. 

Nick sighed and shook his head. The other boys picked Newt up and walked behind Victoria to the hut.

Once they reached their destination, they set Newt down on one of the beds and most of them walked outside, except for Victoria, Nick, Jeff, and Minho.

Jeff and Victoria fixed him up the best they could. They had to set the bone back in place, which caused Newt to wake up and scream. Minho and Nick had to hold him down. After they set it back, Jeff wrapped it up. They had done all they could do. Now, they had to wait for it to heal.

“I wanna know what happened. Now.“ Victoria demanded, looking between Nick and Minho.

“He tripped.“ Minho blurted out.

“Why was he in the Maze in the first place?“

Minho shook his head and didn’t answer.

Victoria huffed and crossed her arms. Why won’t he answer? Victoria thought. Something’s not right...

“I think we should all just go to sleep and see if he’s awake in the morning. It won’t do us any good to just sit around.“

Victoria shook her head. “I’m staying by his side.“

Nick just nodded and walked out of the hut. Minho and Jeff followed shortly after. 

After they left, Victoria looked at Newt. She pulled a chair to the side of his bed and sat down. She looked at him for the longest time, before eventually falling asleep in the chair.

Chapter Text

When Victoria woke up, Newt was awake. 

“Newt! You’re awake!“

“Unfortunately.“ She heard him mumble.

She stared at him for a moment, eyebrows knit.

“Did they tell you what would happen after you healed?“ She asked, leaning forward in her chair that still sat beside his bed.

Newt shook his head and stared at his lap.

“I wanna know what really happened.“

Newt’s head shot up and he stared at her for a moment before sighing. “Tried to jump off those walls in the Maze, that’s what bloody happened.“

Victoria’s eyes widened and tears started to fill her hazel eyes. How could I not tell... she thought to herself.

“And don’t go feelin’ sorry for me,“ Newt said upon seeing the tears in her eyes.

Victoria shook her head, wiping a tear that glided down her face before grabbing his hand in her own. “I won’t, but I’ll help you heal.“ 

Newt stared at their intertwined hands, not answering.