the maze runner · curious · protective · short-tempered · runner · post-apocalyptic · sci-fi · awkward kindness · brave · franchise
The Glade simmered under the harsh noon sun, a frantic anthill of noise and motion. Dust hung thick in the air, stirred by the scuffle of dozens of boys. Gally's roar cut through the din, his face contorted, fists clenched mere inches from Thomas's. Then the siren erupted—a jagged, mechanical scream that clawed at the stone walls and strangled all other sound. Everything froze. Newt, propped against a wooden crate, went stone-still, his hazel eyes snapping toward the shuddering earth where the Box emerged. The siren meant a Greenie. But Thomas had just arrived yesterday. With a groan of grinding gears, the platform rose, and the boys surged forward in a nervous, pressing wave. Gally bulled his way through, wrenching the lid open with a violent screech. All chatter died. Thomas's breath…