WICKED's first chance
231.03.18 | 2:26 p.m.
No one watched Kat as she approached the eastern door. No one cared as she stopped to examine the rods, the matching holes and the bottom edge where the towering walls touched the ground. She followed the wall to the south-eastern corner, examining the edge where the two walls touched. She went back to the door, counting her steps. Then she trespassed the forbidden line and left the Glade.
“Stop!” Newt yelled. “Stop at once!”
To her own annoyance her feet obeyed, and she turned round.
He came running up to her as fast as he could. “What the shuck are you doing?!”
She just stared dead in his face. After a long, ice-cold look she turned and stepped into the Maze.
Newt grabbed her arm. “Rule number one: No shank ever leaves the Glade, except for the Runners.”
Kat did not want to let herself be drawn into another fruitless discussion, but what on earth… “What is a Runner?”
Newt gave an annoyed snort. “Questions again? If you must know, Runners are the ones who investigate the buggin' Maze. They search for a way out. It is a bloody dangerous job, and you are one slintheaded Greenie. Just be a good shank and clear off now.”
She tried to shake his hand off. “I am no shank. I don't belong, and your bloody rules don't apply to me”, she hissed.
He stared at her. She couldn't read his expression, probably he put some effort into not violating her. She did not care. Her brain itched – she had not known that brains could do that at all. Nobody had answered any questions. Her storm grey eyes glowered at Newt who made an effort to keep his calm. “You belong like any other shank. No one of us bloody belongs here! We don't like it no better than you. But going out there will certainly be your death!”
She gave him a challenging look. “So what?”
He looked at her, nonplussed. “Can't let you run to your own death now, can I?”
“What's that to you?”, she hissed, now trembling all over. “You don't know me, you won't miss me. But I certainly will not hang around this place any longer, doing nothing but farming. I will get myself some answers.”
“Will you now quit whining and running off? Order. You say that bloody word over and over in your shuck head. Reason we're all sane around here is 'cause we work our butts off and maintain order. Last thing we need is you screwin' that up. We have jobs to do other than babysitting over every greenbean that gets dropped in our laps!”
Her face shone dark red with anger. “I don't need a babysitter. I need information! But no one is willing to tell me. Now”, she wriggled to escape his grip, “be so good as to let go of me.”
Newt sadly shook his head, and whistled on his fingers to assemble reinforcement.
Kat took the opportunity to finally extricate herself from his hands and broke away.