thomas　shook　his　head.　slicer　didn’t　sound　good　at　all.　as　they　kept　walking,　he　focused　his　attention　on　the　other　side　of　the　glade,　the　section　alby　had　called　the　deadheads.　the　trees　grew　thicker　and　denser　the　farther　back　in　the　corner　they　went,　more　alive　and　full　of　leaves.　dark　shadows　filled　the　depths　of　the　wooded　area,　despite　the　time　of　day.　thomas　looked　up,　squinting　to　see　that　the　sun　was　finally　visible,　though　it　looked　odd—more　orange　than　it　should　be.　it　hit　him　that　this　was　yet　another　example　of　the　odd　selective　memory　in　his　mind.

        he　returned　his　gaze　to　the　deadheads,　a　glowing　disk　still　floating　in　his　vision.　blinking　to　clear　it　away,　he　suddenly　caught　the　red　lights　again,　flickering　and　skittering　about　deep　in　the　darkness　of　the　woods.　what　are　those　things?　he　wondered,　irritated　that　alby　hadn’t　answered　him　earlier.　the　secrecy　was　very　annoying.

        alby　stopped　walking,　and　thomas　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,　as　ancient　as　anything　thomas　could　imagine.　he　craned　his　neck　to　see　the　top　of　the　walls　far　above;　his　mind　spun　with　the　odd　sensation　that　he　was　looking　down,　not　up.　he　staggered　back　a　step,　awed　once　again　by　the　structure　of　his　new　home,　then　finally　returned　his　attention　to　alby,　who　had　his　back　to　the　exit.

        “out　there’s　the　maze.”　alby　jabbed　a　thumb　over　his　shoulder,　then　paused.　thomas　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　he’d　seen　from　the　window　by　the　east　door　early　that　morning.　this　thought　gave　him　a　chill,　made　him　wonder　if　a　griever　might　e　charging　toward　them　at　any　minute.　he　took　a　step　backward　before　realizing　what　he　was　doing.　calm　down,　he　chided　himself,　embarrassed.

        alby　continued.　“two　years,　i’ve　been　here.　ain’t　none　been　here　longer.　the　few　before　me　are　already　dead.”　thomas　felt　his　eyes　widen,　his　heart　quicken.　“two　years　we’ve　tried　to　solve　this　thing,　no　luck.　shuckin’　walls　move　out　there　at　night　just　as　much　as　these　here　doors.　mappin’　it　out　ain’t　easy,　ain’t　easy　nohow.”　he　nodded　toward　the　concrete-blocked　building　into　which　the　runners　had　disappeared　the　night　before.

        another　stab　of　pain　sliced　through　thomas’s　head—there　were　too　many　things　to　pute　at　once.　they’d　been　here　two　years?　the　walls　moved　out　in　the　maze?　how　many　had　died?　he　stepped　forward,　wanting　to　see　the　maze　for　himself,　as　if　the　answers　were　printed　on　the　walls　out　there.

        alby　held　out　a　hand　and　pushed　thomas　in　the　chest,　sent　him　stumbling　backward.　“ain’t　no　goin’　out　there,　shank.”

        thomas　had　to　suppress　his　pride.　“why　not?”

        “you　think　i　sent　newt　to　ya　before　the　wake-up　just　for　kicks?　freak,　that’s　the　number　one　rule,　the　only　one　you’ll　never　be　forgiven　for　breaking.　ain’t　nobody—nobody—allowed　in　the　maze　except　the　runners.　break　that　rule,　and　if　you　ain’t　killed　by　the　grievers,　we’ll　kill　you　ourselves,　you　get　me?”

        thomas　nodded,　grumbling　inside,　sure　that　alby　was　exaggerating.　hoping　that　he　was.　either　way,　if　he’d　had　any　doubt　about　what　he’d　told　chuck　the　night　before,　it　had　now　pletely　vanished.　he　wanted　to　be　a　runner.　he　would　be　a　runner.　deep　inside　he　knew　he　had　to　go　out　there,　into　the　maze.　despite　everything　he’d　learned　and　witnessed　firsthand,　it　called　to　him　as　much　as　hunger　or　thirst.

        a　movement　up　on　the　left　wall　of　the　south　door　caught　his　attention.　startled,　he　reacted　quickly,　looking　just　in　time　to　see　a　flash　of　silver.　a　patch　of　ivy　shook　as　the　thing　disappeared　into　it.

        thomas　pointed　up　at　the　wall.　“what　was　that?”　he　asked　before　he　could　be　shut　down　again.

        alby　didn’t　bother　looking.　“no　questions　till　the　end,　shank.　how　many　times　i　gotta　tell　ya?”　he　paused,　then　let　out　a　sigh.　“beetle　blades—it’s　how　the　creators　watch　us.　you　better　not—”

        he　was　cut　off　by　a　booming,　ringing　alarm　that　sounded　from　all　directions.　thomas　clamped　his　hands　to　his　ears,　looking　around　as　the　siren　blared,　his　heart　about　to　thump　its　way　out　of　his　chest.　but　when　he　focused　back　on　alby,　he　stopped.

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