Chapter Text

PROLOGUE

It’d been over two hours on the road, and most of the boys had spent it talking or messing around. Thomas had used his window seat to the fullest, while his aisle-facing seat partner, Newt, quietly listened to music between getting pulled into different conversations. At one point during the trip, Thomas was given one of the earbuds to listen with as they sat shoulder to shoulder, but only until Alby and Minho had started bickering about something.

So now Thomas sits, picking at the peeling blue leather of the bus seat in front of him with his nail, making an already unsightly hole worse.

“Will you quit that?” Newt scolds, nudging him with a knee. Thomas’ cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“I was just…” He mumbles, unsure what to say about his absent-minded school property damage.

But Newt’s attention is turned to the seat across the bus aisle from them—where Alby and Minho sit. The other three had dragged Thomas along to sit the trip in the back of the school bus, farthest away from adult supervision, and Thomas figured sitting next to Newt was his best bet.

“You’re actually kidding if you think you beat me, pipsqueak.” Minho says, gesturing to Alby next to him.

“Sorry, I thought you were talking about me, not Thomas.” Alby quips back, making Thomas’ face warp into a frown at suddenly being implicated in their argument.

“This is possibly the lamest argument you’ve had to date. Bugger off and fight about it so we can all get on with it.” Newt sighs.

Alby smirks, “Soon as those doors open.”

“Or now.” Minho responds, before wrangling Alby’s head in his arm, and the two fuss about in their seat for a moment with big grins.

Newt acts above it sometimes, but really he’s the same as them, and a small, amused smile creeps on his face as he shakes his head disapprovingly. It didn't take Thomas long to relearn that this is their way of showing affection, though sometimes he still feels out of the loop.

But everyone turns to look out the windows when their teacher, Miss Crawford, starts going over the field trip rules on a speaker as the bus squeaks, pulling over on a road parallel to stretches of planted corn. Thomas could feel Newt’s long hair droop over his shoulder and the breath on his cold cheek as the older boy leaned over him to look out the window. It's noon, but the overcast, autumn sky makes for a dimly lit day. A couple police cars speed past, then a few more.

“Good lot of bloody corn.”

“I think Crawford said it’s the biggest corn maze in Colorado.” Thomas says quietly back, as they ignore their teacher’s current instructions.

Newt squints his eyes for a second, “What’s the point?”

Thomas shrugs, “Uh… never done one. I mean, maybe it’s fun, you know, with the right people, so I was thinking…”

His voice trails off as loads of boys start getting up the moment they’re allowed, the voice on the speaker getting more desperate as she attempts to corral them. Nick, who’d been sitting in front of the other two, sticks his foot out to trip Alby, and Minho just behind smacks him on the head. The group seemed a little over-excited for the trip as they all filed out of the bus, aside from Newt, who seemed to only get a signature to come along for the sake of his friends.

“Hey, hand me my water bottle.” Alby says bluntly, motioning to Newt as they all approach the entrance of the lot.

“Oh, you mean the one in my bag because you didn't bring one?” Newt says with an eyebrow raised, pulling a purple metal water bottle out of his dark yellow daypack.

Alby reaches for it before answering, and Newt smirks, holding it high in the air where Alby can’t reach it—though the shorter boy wastes no time jumping to get to it. Minho approaches Thomas while watching them, that is until Newt trips with his bad leg in an attempt to back up. Alby immediately stops with a look of concern, reaching down to help him up. But Newt just flips him off without dropping his grin before getting up on his own, tossing the bottle at Alby to catch.

Thomas decides to venture in front of the crowd of boys to get in earshot of what they’re supposed to be listening to, and when he does, he notices a group of younger boys in front of a second bus, along with one of them waving at him. Chuck had been thrilled to find out both their groups were coming here on the same day. Thomas doesn't look around himself to see the boys his age having calmed down until their teacher mentions picking your “buddy system buddy”, and that’s when he notices Newt standing quietly behind him. Thomas opens his mouth to ask, but closes it upon seeing Alby and Minho looking at Newt, too. Nick approaches too, but looks at Thomas.

Nick was a nice enough boy when he wanted to be, and apparently he’d become good friends with Alby and Newt before Thomas moved back to Denver three months ago. They still act like it here and there, but there's a strange distance. Sometimes it feels like his fault when Nick looks at him, but he could never figure out why.

Newt looks around at all the boys, sighs, then rests his arm on top of Thomas’ head.

“Well, I suppose I should go with Tommy here to make sure he doesn't wander off and get himself lost.” He says.

“I don’t—I wouldn’t get lost.” Thomas protests weakly, though he’s happy to be picked.

“Ehh…” Alby replies, motioning with his hand as a sign of doubting Thomas.

Then another voice pipes up, in an annoyingly teasing tone, “Nah, it’s just ‘cause little Tommy’s his favorite.”

Thomas turns around, and whatever his previous expression was, it immediately turns to a scowl upon matching the voice to Gally’s smug face making kissy noises.

“Jealous?” Thomas spits, even though Gally was obviously just making that up.

“You know what?” Nick says, wandering over to grip the back of Gally’s shirt collar, “I think I’ll take you, ‘little’ buddy.”

“No way—” Gally argues, but he gets dragged towards Crawford, and Alby offers a grateful look to Nick as they pass.

Frypan comes around with Zart, tossing some cheap granola bars around at kids to hand them out, and Thomas gives them both a smile for the extra effort. Alby and Minho happily pair up, completely over their prior bickering. Not that it all really mattered, since they mostly stuck in their group of four, but Newt always made sure to stick close to Thomas. Almost insultingly so, as if he really did believe Thomas would go and get lost if left alone for even a minute.

The boys wander some sort of historical tourist attraction that's popular during autumn for their maze and a school fundraiser. It was odd, but a little relieving that none of the adult staff seemed to pay any of the boys much mind. Crawford had taken a phone call that’d been ringing during her explanation, and by her expression, it wasn't good. Thomas hadn't really thought about it until he saw even more people at the fundraiser using hushed voices and concerned tones on calls taken to the side.

“Anyone else getting a weird feeling?” Thomas asks, exiting a gate while watching their ride operator on a call.

“Can't handle a little rollercoaster?” Minho asks.

“No, not that—”

Minho unnecessarily jumps over the metal fencing as Newt walks through the gate, and jogs to a high striker across the dirt path.

“Good.” He answers dismissively. Minho’s proud pose while pretending not to be flexing in front of the machinery was enough to get across his next idea of what to do. He turns back around to the rest of the approaching boys, bowing in Thomas’ direction, “Ladies first.”

Thomas took a deep breath, and sighed, approaching the mallet and craning his neck to see the bell at the top that he needed to hit the target hard enough to ring. The man who seemed to be working the striker was leaned against a fence behind it on a phone call, waving his hand to give the boys permission. It’s not like Thomas was a wimp by any means–surely, it could not be that hard.

But if they had the foresight to bet that Thomas would come in dead last, they would have won money. It would have also been easy to guess Minho, going last, was the one to ring the bell. Newt got pretty close though, beating out Alby.

“You were right Alby,” Minho starts, resting his arm on Alby’s shoulder, “Maybe Greenbean’s new nickname should be Pipsqueak.”

“Shut your hole, shank.” Thomas mumbles, defeatedly.

Newt shrugs, stuffing his hands in his brown jacket pockets, “Don’t pick on him too much. He can’t help that he’s the littlest.”

“I’m not… little, I’m athletic.” Thomas grumbles.

Newt tilts his head, “I don't believe those two things cancel each other out.”

“Whatever. You don't even do sports.”

Newt and Alby slowed down while they were walking, and for a moment there, they had Thomas worried he’d said something wrong. But then Newt turned to Thomas with a small smile, “Thought I told you I used to be on the track team not too long before you came.”

Thomas’ eyebrows raise in surprise, “Really? The empty spot I filled in was you?”

Alby looks at Newt as he continues, nodding, “Can't say I’m not impressed by my replacement though, you’re a better fit than me.”

Minho grins, “Well, everyone's fast to you, huh?”

Newt pauses, like he’s not sure whether to laugh or not, before he tilts his head, replying in a fake-earnest tone, “I’m sorry, didn't he beat your time?”

Minho’s eyebrows furrow, “Once. Specifically.”

“About to be twice.” Thomas replies, holding his posture a little more confidently.

“As if,” Minho shakes his head, “Besides, you’re twenty pounds soaking wet. The wind practically carries you.”

Minho, though a beloved friend, has his moments of genuinely irritating Thomas. They wander around a bit more, but Alby and Minho seem to have a different taste than Newt in appreciation for various rides. Thomas doesn't really want to leave his “buddy” alone to wait for the rest of them, so eventually they split off.

“You said something about the maze?” Newt looks down at Thomas to ask.

“Uh…” Thomas replies, looking at the crops around the perimeter of the place, “Well… yeah.”

Surprisingly compared to his previous lack of interest, Newt nods, and offers one of his polite smiles, “Lead the way.”

“Oh,” Thomas looked back to where Alby and Minho were. Fuck it, whatever. “I wanted Chuck to come too. I mean, he wanted to go.”

“Good that.” Newt agrees, but tracking the little shank down is another thing as they walk around with scanning eyes.

The older boy gets a little quiet sometimes, but it's something Thomas can appreciate. There's a calmness to his presence that makes it feel peaceful rather than awkward. There's normally more people at this kind of thing, but searching the place, he realizes how odd it is that most of the other people and noise are just their other classmates or machines operating.

“You want to use our food tickets? Maybe Chuck’s in line for something.” Thomas suggests, motioning towards a few booths around the place stocked with typical fair food. Newt looks at them skeptically.

“Go ahead. I’m not really interested.” He says, shrugging. He’s really not known to be a picky guy, but it’s clear this place isn't his type of thing. Thomas didn't really feel like eating by himself, though.

“Well… let’s ask Crawford if she’s seen him, then.” He suggests, stuffing hands into his pants pockets that have gone slightly stiff from the cold. The lower than usual temperature makes more sense when he feels a few rain drops on the back of his neck.

Newt seems to watch Thomas closely as the rain gets heavier, rain trailing down his cheek. The two boys quicken their pace on the way towards the large, plain white building near the front of the field that looks like it’s probably something made to be disassembled and moved from time to time.

“Here–” Newt shimmies out of his jacket, holding it above both of their heads as a makeshift umbrella. It makes them move a little slower as they shuffle along to stay under its cover, but Thomas doesn't mind.

“See? It’s not so bad being little when it means ya fit real nice under here.” Newt teases.

“Like you’re any much wider than me. Maybe I should call you a Greenbean, with your tall ass-”

Thomas is cut off when they’ve only made it halfway to the shelter, the crackling of a few wet speakers around the dirt field turning on, as someone too close to the microphone speaks into it.

“All students must take shelter in Building B. I repeat, all students must take shelter in Building B.”

Thomas looks up at Newt, who looks far less concerned in response than himself.

“You think there's a bad storm coming?” The question comes out a little more shaken than he meant it to.

Newt shrugged, “Probably just the rain. If there was a storm we needed to worry about, we probably would’ve known about it before driving here.”

Thomas supposed that was true, but it really wasn't raining hard by any means. Are the attractions here that dangerous under a few rain clouds?

“Come on, then. We’ll meet up with Chuckie ‘til they let us back out.” Newt reassures, and Thomas huddles a little closer under his jacket as they quicken their pace heading to shelter.

It’d be more cramped inside if, as instructed, all the students had piled in. But looking around, there were missing faces. Thankfully, Chuck was indeed here, though Thomas wasn't really proud of him for abandoning his buddy system buddy to attach himself to the older boy like Velcro. Minho and Alby weren't far behind either, and when Nick and Gally walked in, Thomas was surprised to see them getting along. Gally was kind of a dick in general, but he was a lot better at playing nice with the older boys of their group–and most of them certainly respect Nick more than Thomas.

It was strange, looking around to see a bunch of boys sitting on the cheap carpet of a white metal box of a building, while adults whispered amongst themselves between phone calls. Nothing about this seemed right, it hasn't since they got there. But everyone else seemed happy to believe things would just work out like they always do. Thomas hoped they were right.

“Damn it.” Crawford cursed while getting off the phone, before whispering a “sorry” to the twelve year old from Chuck’s group sitting behind her. “Where’s the rest of your group?” She questioned, looking up to where Thomas and the others huddled.

“Think there’s a bunch of kids in the maze.” Minho answered.

Alby nodded, “Everyone wanted to go before it got dark.”

Crawford bit at her lip nervously, then turned to some of the staff that worked there, “I’m going to have to go out and get them.”

Nick pushed his way through their group towards her, “I saw where Stephen went in with a group, I can show you.”

Crawford hesitated before nodding. Hearing the name makes Thomas feel a little bad–even before he moved away for awhile as a kid, everyone knew that Stephen first, so when Thomas moved in and introduced himself as Stephen, everyone decided to go by his middle name, Thomas. That is, not counting nicknames.

“Alright. Let’s just make it quick.” Crawford agrees, and Nick nods, turning around to give the other boys a thumbs-up.

“Babysit Gally for me.” He says with a wink, before leaving with Crawford.

Thomas expected a sarcastic response back, but Gally had already made his way back into the crowd to find his friends. Not that I’d care even if he were lost in that damn maze.

The sound of maybe twenty kids chatting all in a tin can as rain poured on the metal ceiling and an unnecessary AC blasted all blended together like white noise. Newt leaned his head to the side, raking a hand through his damp, long hair, avoiding dripping water onto his shirt, or the damp jacket in his lap.

“Isn't this all a bit excessive for a little rain?” Thomas wondered out loud to his group.

“She probably just doesn't want to lose any of the kids she’s in charge of.” Alby says dismissively.

“I meant everything. I’ve never heard an announcement like that just for this.”

“You’ve been paranoid all day.” Minho replies, cracking his neck. “What, you forgot what rain was like while in Alabama?”

“Alaska.” Thomas corrected. He felt a little bad that Minho didn't remember–he’d always kept the memory of a much younger Minho telling him about how miserable moving to Alaska was going to be. He’s also not sure the joke makes sense anyway.

“You forget what rain was like while in Alaska?” Minho repeats.

“I think it just snows there.” Alby replies.

“They’ve got four seasons just like the rest of us, dumbass.” Minho says.

Thomas sighs, “It’s not about Alaska. I’m being serious.”

Newt studies Thomas for a moment, before flipping his hair to behind his shoulders, leaning back with his hands behind him, “Okay. Let’s say you’re right, and something super horrible is happening. What do we do?” He asks in an earnest tone.

Thomas thinks about it for a moment, “Well… I don’t know.”

Newt smiles, “See? Either way, we just have to sit tight, and wait. What’s the point of doing it all worried?”

Thomas crossed his arms with a frown. He hated when Newt was right, which was often.

“Yeah, untwist your panties.” Minho adds on. That only peeved Thomas more, but he had nowhere to go sulk.

“Is Stephen going to be okay?” Chuck asked, and Thomas had almost forgotten the boy was sitting on his other side, quieter than usual. Thomas suddenly felt bad for making him worry.

“Yeah,” Thomas said, patting Chuck’s curly hair, “It’s just rain.”

The others give him a look that says “we were right”, and it’s not helping.

“Okay. Can we play tic tac toe?” Chuck asks.

“Sure.”

A worryingly long time passes without anyone returning. The only thing that happened as boys kept glancing at a clock on the wall was more of the staff leaving. Someone said something about emergency services before a group of them left the shelter, though everyone but Thomas swears they didn't hear that. It was driving him crazy, how no one else seemed to care nearly as much about what was clearly a weird situation.

Then the lights went out. Some of the younger boys yelped in surprise, much to the older boys' annoyance.

“Damn, maybe there really is a bad storm.” Minho says as their eyes adjust to the darkness. A double door at the entrance with glass windows is the only thing bringing light into the building, but it's just a dim, grey light, what with all the rain clouds.

Thomas didn't have time or energy to gloat, carefully making his way to the door to peer outside, accidentally stepping on a kid’s hand on the way there. When he presses a hand against the cold glass of the door, trying to look through all the rain, he realizes Minho’s just behind him.

“It’s been over an hour since Crawford left.” Thomas whispers.

“Bet klunk-for-brains Nick got them lost out there.” Minho replies, looking at the line of crops, swaying back and forth from the wind.

“Is it really that big? I mean, at some point, just walk through the corn, right?”

“You ever done one of these mazes?”

“Well… no.”

Minho shook his head, “Not so simple, and a hell of a lot bigger once you’re in it. The corn is pretty densely packed, too. Your best bet is just sticking to one side until you make it to the end or the beginning.”

“Maybe that’s what happened. Made it to the end instead of the beginning, and now they're coming back through.” Thomas suggested.

Minho tilts his head, tapping his fingers on the glass, “Yeah… but it's been too long.”

“Now who’s paranoid?”

“Well, I’m worried at the appropriate time instead of all the time, how’s that?”

Thomas’ attention is piqued by the sight outside before he can argue back, when the corn in the distance starts to part, and two people stumble out.

“Where’s everyone else?” Minho asks, brows furrowed as they both watch. The closer they get though, the more they can see through the streaming rain drops on the window the state of the two people approaching.

It’s definitely Crawford and Nick by the silhouette–but something’s seriously wrong. It looks like her arm’s draped over his shoulder as he drags her along.

Thomas and Minho open the door in concern, stepping out as they get a better look.

“No!” Nick screams, and it shocks Thomas enough that it takes him a moment to register the fact that he can now clearly see the two of them covered in blood, “Get inside!”

Minho immediately follows the instruction, stepping back inside as he holds his side of the double door open, but Thomas steps forward, just about to run down the metal steps towards them. Minho grabs him by the back of his shirt, pulling him in with a jolt.

“That’s the tone of voice you learn how to fucking listen to.” Minho hisses.

“We have to help–”

“Damn it Thomas, I know that!”

Their heads flip back and forth between Nick and inside, where the open door illuminates Alby and Newt standing up at the sound of the commotion.

Nick stumbles forward as he holds onto Crawford’s arm slung around his shoulders, her legs walking with him slightly, but her eyes closed. He's covered in a hell of a lot more blood than her, from his face, to his ripped shirt soaked in it, but it's clear she's bleeding from her neck with the rest of his shirt tied there. Thomas and Minho lend a hand getting them up the steps, until they collapse on the carpet.

Open double doors flood the room with dim light, the bloody horror on the floor putting shock in all the kids’ faces. The moment Alby sees Nick, he bolts to his slumped over body.

Nick catches his breath as he sits on his knees, slumped over Crawford’s much less animated body, scanning her as he tries to wipe blood off his face.

“George… Georgie, he’s… and Stephen…” Nick starts mumbling, his voice raw.

Alby grabs Nick by the shoulders while Minho rushes to inspect Crawford.

“What the hell happened? You're bleeding everywhere!” Alby shouts, frightening all the boys behind them that just stand in stunned silence.

Nick shakes his head, “It's not mine.”

Minho applies pressure to Crawford’s neck, but it won't stop, only covering his hands in her warm blood. “Fuck,” He curses, checking her pulse. It’s there, but slow–unusual considering how much blood is seeping out from her neck.

“What the hell happened?” Alby repeats as Newt gets to them, causing Thomas to finally break from his moment of shock.

“George and Stephen… they went into the maze together.” Nick starts.

“So?”

“We found them…but they were… right jacked. I tried to help… tried to get Georgie to just calm down… then he just pounced, bit right into her neck and tore out a chunk like it was nothing.”

A small gasp is heard behind Thomas, who turns to see Chuck listening and watching. He frowns, knowing this is probably scary for the boy, but that's not really something he can prevent right now.

“So everyone else is still out there? We’ll have to go get them.” Newt says, squatting down next to Nick with furrowed brows.

Nick shoots a hand out to grab Newt’s arm with a vigor that whitens his knuckles.

“No!” He shouts, coughing before continuing, “No… whatever you do… don't any of you dare go into that maze.”

His desperate words make Thomas’ blood run cold. He looks around for someone, anyone, to help, but Nick is probably the oldest person in the building, aside from Crawford.

“Did Georgie do this?” Newt asks, his calmer voice a beacon of light in the panic. Thomas looks at what he's referring to–the rain on Nick’s arm cleared away some blood to reveal a nasty, rugged bite mark.