13-The Maze

                                    

                                          
Rachel's P.O.V
                          
I skidded over the cool stone. I could hear shouts from the Glade. Suddenly what Ive done hits me in the face like a ton of bricks. I am locked in the maze at night, and I could die. 
                          
I shake my head and run forward. My feet grip the hard floor and propel me towards the sound of distress. "Oh Aris where are you?" I scream to myself.
                          
Then I hear a voice in my head respond. I actually hear it!
                          
"Rachel, is that you?" 
                          
I freeze dead in my tracks.
                          
"Aris!?"
                          
"Yeah its me,"
                          
"I can hear you! In my head!" 
                          
"Oh yeah, I almost forgot, my memory is fading fast. But yeah we can talk to each other telepathically, " I hear in his voice.
                          
My head hurts a bit.
                          
"How?"
                          
"It must be some brain alteration WICKED made, I'll explain it to you more in the Glade. "
                          
This is all too bizarre.  WICKED? I'm probably hearing things.
                          
"Aris, the walls are closed we are in the Maze tonight."
                          
It went completely silent.
                          
"Oh God! No, no, no, Harriet got stung. Crap, we are gonna die"
                          
I am silent.
                          
"Wait....we. Oh please, Rachel, tell me you didnt-"
                          
"I did"
                          
"Rachel, why?"
                          
"I wanted to help you"
                          
"Umm can we talk in person, my head hurts really bad"
                          
"Yeah. Mine to. Where are you?" 
                          
"By the cliff, please be careful" 
                          
I dont know why I decide to go along with it, but I do. It is my only option right now. The sky is a beautiful orange as the sun sets in the sky. I wish I could plead with the sky to stand still, to procrastinate the day, all in hopes the Grievers will hide. But the stars persist and insist on bleeding through the painted clouds.  A cool breeze makes me shudder as I jog towards the Cliff. I vaguely remember Sonya telling me about the cliff, I know it is somewhere to my right.
                          
My leg muscles keep a steady rhythm with my heartbeat as I move briskly. I don't sprint, since I am conserving my energy for if I really need it. Then I hear the strange groan of metal against stone. I hear whirrs and clanks that sound too metallic to be natural. I turn the corner and I see it.... a Griever
                          
The sight of it makes my stomach roll.
                          
It is hideously ugly and terrifying.  Long metal appendages stick out of a sickly-colored pulsing blob of flesh. Each metal arm is adorned with some type of weapon; a knife, shears, a spinning saw blade, or needle-like pincers. It turns toward me and makes a lunge forward. 
                          
Instinctively,  I duck. I spiral out of the way just as it makes contact with the ground. I propel myself and I run. My lungs heave and my chest is smashing against my ribs as I run. I can feel my muscles rippling as I run towards the cliff. I turn back and barely make it to a stop at the ledge. I skid to a stop before flying to my death.
                          
The setting sun illuminates the beast as it turns the corner. I can't go the way I came, I can't go towards the cliff. Trapped. Desperately,  I claw at the ivy on the walls, barely making it 4 feet up the wall before the beast approaches. I roll over the stone and dodge one of its horrible devices. I turn, backing myself to the wall when a blade spins at me. I barely dodge the blade as it slices near my head. That's when I feel a strong hand wrap around my arm and pull me back away from the cliff. It jerks me into a crevice. No way out. I just pray that the Griever doesn't find us, or we are as good as dead.