You're the first one down the long, dull gray corridor. You turn right to a short corridor with moss green ivy vines dropping down the maze floor. The footsteps of Alby and Minho sound behind you.
Remembering the directions from yesterday, you turn left. A few turns later, you can hear Alby panting. You stop, to give Alby a break.
"Man, you got tired out quickly," you say. He's doubled over, hands on his knees. His chest heaving in and out with quick, shallow breaths. Perspiration dribbling down the side of his head.
"There's a reason... I'm not a Runner," he says between breaths.
"Because you're not athletic," Minho says walking in the direction of the dead Griever. "Times up. C'mon." Alby looks up from the ground and at you. His face covered in sweat, weariness, and a hint of anger- probably towards Minho. You shrug and jog towards Minho.
Eventually, Alby caught up and you all were jogging in a tight pack. You looked down at your watch. 10:46. It had only been a couple of hours, and you were almost there. Minho had slowed down the pace, so you started to become tired. Sweat had already started to trickle down your temples. The sweat had already started to soak the neck of your shirt.
Finally, you turn the corridor that leads to the dead Griever. The part-monster, part-machine creature still lays there lifelessly. You slow down to a walk. Minho and Alby move forward. Stopping a few feet out from the Griever.
"Woah," Alby says. "It's dead."
"No kidding," Minho says.
"What do we do with it?" Alby asks.
"You think I shucking know. You're the leader," Minho retorts.
"Well," Alby says walking towards the Griever, slowly. "Obviously it's to heavy to carry back." He stops with the tip of his shoes inches from the Griever. Then, he does the worst thing possible; he kicks it.
The Griever springs to life.