Get Stung and Survive This
Flore is running through the big, concrete hallways of the Maze.
Strange enough, nobody has seen her; they let her steal the Grief Serum, which is in her pocket now, and nobody noticed her sneaking through the Doors. The small syringe ticks against her leg as she takes a turn into another corridor.
She has no idea where she is; she went into the Maze through the East Door, but she doesn't know whether she is close to the Glade or not. She only knows that the hallways seem endless, and that her legs are growing tired.
She leans against a wall while trying to catch her breath. Her heart is pounding, both of the running and the fear for the Griever; it seems to grow worse with every step.
Sighing, she starts to run again. Hallway, corner, another hallway, another corner.
Flore tries to keep running in the same tempo, but she can't. She starts to understand why she didn't have to become a Runner.
Just when she turns into the umpteenth corridor, a whirring sound sounds behind her.
She immediately shoots behind a wall. She can feel her blood rustle in her ears.
She doesn't have to look to know that. She swallows difficultly.
This is it.
Closing her fingers around the syringe in her pocket, she steps into the hallway. When she sees the Griever, standing on the other side of the corridor, she has to do her best to not faint.
The thing is even bigger than she expected, about two metres high. Its metal arms are attached to claws and knives and needles.
That's it. The needles.
That's what he stings with.
The half-machine monster growls loudly when it sees her.
Flore closes her eyes for a moment. Then she hurls towards the Griever.
It immediately reacts by pushing the arms with the knives forward, towards her. For a tiny moment, she wonders how she is going to do this.
How can she get stung without dying?
But she pushes the thought away and puts all of her force into her legs.
The Griever shrieks when she comes closer, into the arms' reach. A knife shoots towards her. She dodges it.
In a couple of seconds, claws and blades have surrounded her. Her brain only wants two things: get stung and survive this.
Especially that last thing.
Flore slaps a claw away when it comes closer. A knife moves towards her and makes a cut in her tank top. She kicks the weapon away before it can cut through her skin.
While all of her focus is on the sharp things that are trying to kill her, Flore doesn't see that the arms with the needles are coming closer every second.
When she kicks a claw away, she feels a sharp prick in her back, immediately followed by a prick in her upper leg.
Now I need to get out of here without dying.
As fast as her legs can carry her, she sprints away from the Griever. She doesn't care whether it is following her or not; the venom is already working, making black spots appear in front of her eyes, like ink on paper. Pain starts to explode inside her body, a silent, throbbing pain.
She is completely out of breath by the time she has run around the corner. Her hands are shaking as she picks the syringe out of her pocket.
Without hesitating, she stings it in her leg.
Panting, she leans against the wall.
Come on, Flore, she says to herself. Don't give up. You also need to go back to the Glade.
But when she stands up, the world starts to rotate, and she falls on the ground.
For some reason, she thinks: I wish that Winston was here.
Then she passes out.