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Newt and Minho had never felt so defeated. At least, not as defeated as they felt the night they lost Thomas.
Minho himself had felt such despair and defeat, watching Thomas convulse and finally fall to the ground. Watching Thomas be dragged by WCKD into the berg and fly away with their leader. No matter what reassurances the Right Arm or his friends had, it never made the open wound feel better. Even now, as Minho sat with his head in his hands, he tuned out the words Aris spoke. Newt wasn’t doing any better either. He was silent, eyes blank and far away. He didn’t move when Frypan tried to talk to him.
The operation took six months to conduct, prepare and eventually execute. They had everything planned to the last detail, and still, it went wrong. It went like this: they would ambush a WCKD supply train carrying Immunes and escape with the kids. Simple on paper, right?
But no. After Vince and Minho hijacked the train, derailing it, WCKD soldiers began running from the lone front of the train. Minho and Vince shot at them as Newt went up to the car and began banging on the sides.
“Thomas? Tommy!!” he called.
Through the shouts of the other kids, he thought he heard Thomas yelling. He turned to the others. “This one!”
They made quick work in derailing the cart. They climbed on top of it as the WCKD soldiers fired at them, managing to narrowly miss every single shot. Newt grinned when he heard the roaring of the berg, Jorge at the wheel. They attached the cart to the berg and took off, smiling and laughing at their victory.
And when they landed, they unhooked the cart and blew the door in. Newt was the first one in, scanning the tired and hopeful faces of the children inside. He walked down the aisle, looking for those familiar brown eyes he’d been desperate to see for the past six months. But when he reached the end of the row, his heart stopped. He couldn’t bear to look back at Minho as the Runner followed behind him.
“Newt….” Minho said quietly. His expression fell as he looked at the kids. “Newt please tell me I’m seeing things.”
Newt stayed silent as he practically ran outside. He was so sure it was Tommy he heard.
And that brought them back to their current predicament. Vince making a speech to the new kids, encouraging them and offering comfort. Later, he would call in Minho, Newt, Jorge and Brenda and Frypan to discuss their next move. Vince was frustrated to say the least. They’d spent six months using Right Arm resources for this rescue mission only to not rescue the one person they intended to save.
“I have an idea, but you won’t like it,” said Vince. His eyes were trained on Newt.
“What is it?” Minho questioned.
The leader sighed, locking eyes with the Runner. “We use that girl you guys came with. Terry?”
“Teresa,” Newt said incredulously. He looked from Minho to Vince, eyes flaring with anger. “You want to crawl back to her even after she betrayed us? After that shuck face got Tommy-” he stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “Explain.”
“I figure that uh-... well, she cares about Thomas. No matter what she did, she still cares about him,” the man said.
“He’s right,” Frypan agreed. “Did you see the way she looked at him when he got shot? She was scared.”
“Oh yeah, now that you mention it…” said Minho.
“So what, hermano? She’s supposedly in the Last City, if it even still exists,” said Jorge. He pointed to a spot on the map that had x’s all around it. “The area around it is infested with Cranks. If there was still a city it’s probably overrun.”
“We have to try,” Newt declared. “I’m not leaving Tommy.”
“Nobody said we were abandoning him, kid. Hell, he’s done more for the Right Arm than I have,” Vince admitted, lowering his eyes to stare at the map. He knew how important Thomas was to WCKD, he knew that the second Mary picked him out from the crowd of outsiders. He was their key: both the Right Arm’s and WCKD’s. Not only was he the key to everything, but he was a friend. A brother to those kids. There was no way they’d just leave him in the clutches of a corrupt government. “But we can talk about this tomorrow. The new kids need a bit of guidance.”
Newt’s eyebrows lowered as he watched Vincent leave. Minho stared at him with a knowing look. He knew that look well: he’d seen it too many times on Thomas. A look of rebellion, of planning and meticulous calculation. So, Minho stayed silent when Newt stomped out of the room. He sighed and mentally prepared himself. It was going to be a long night.
Newt walked determinedly down to the garage where the old rusted Jeep was parked, backpack in hand and a mission in mind. If Vince wouldn’t send out a rescue team, Newt would make his own. He wasn’t an idiot; he knew Minho felt the same way. That’s why he wasn’t surprised to hear his best friend’s voice say in the darkness, “where do you think you’re going?”
A lamp flickered on and Minho stood beside it, crossing his arms and leaning on the side of the Jeep. Seeing Minho there, a backpack beside his feet, made Newt feel ten times better about his decision. Thomas had done so much for them without asking for thanks, and it was time they returned the favor.
“You know why, Min, don’t be a twat about it,” said Newt as he rolled his eyes.
Minho grinned. “Wasn’t going to, ya shank. I had the same idea as you, but unlike you, I figured we could use a bit of backup.” The Runner opened the driver side door to reveal a smiling Frypan.
“Don’t try and tell me not to go, Newt. Thomas… Well, he’s Thomas. How could we leave him behind and go to the Safe Haven without him?” the cook asked. “It wouldn’t be the same.”
“So let’s go get him back,” Newt declared.
They hopped in the Jeep and sped out of the camp as silently as they could.
Frypan had driven them all night and throughout the morning until they came across a tunnel. Rusty cars were piled on top of one another and equally rusty signs lay strewn about on broken chain link fences. The tunnel itself looked too quiet, too peaceful, but looking at the map, Frypan knew the tunnel was the only way to get to the Last City.
“I don’t know about you guys, but if I was a crank, I’d definitely be in there,” Newt commented absentmindedly. He raised his hand over his eyes to block out the blinding sun.
“It’s the only way through,” said Frypan.
“You sure? I don’t wanna run into more of those things,” Minho replied warily, eying the tunnel cautiously.
“Yep. Nowhere else to go but through there.”
“I call shotgun,” said Newt.
They climbed back into the Jeep and Frypan slowly drove the car into the tunnel, the darkness welcoming them. He turned on the headlights, instantly being met with a few corpses rotting around them. He tried his best to look away as he maneuvered the car through the labyrinth of rusted cars. Then, he stopped.
“What?” Minho asked.
There was a person standing in the middle of the tunnel. Just standing there, staring forward. The feeling of unease in Frypan’s stomach grew. After spending about 6 months in the Scorch, you learn more about the predators that lurk about it. Where there is one Crank, there’s bound to be more.
“Roll up the window,” he said.
Newt shared a wary glance with the driver before complying, cranking the lever until the window was all the way back up. Frypan slowly edged the car forward, and the person twitched. From the backseat, Minho watched their surroundings. He looked out the right window, seeing nothing, then glanced to the left window, where he nearly jumped out of his skin. There was a woman standing just behind the window, wrinkly and sickeningly pale skin shined under the flashlight Minho held, and her teeth were rotten and saliva dripped from her chin.
“Let me in,” she said, smiling maniacally. Her hand pulled at the door handle insistently. “Let me in!”
The shouts of dozens of other cranks echoed in the tunnel as Frypan stepped on the gas pedal. The Jeep lurched forward as it accelerated. Frypan did his best not to hit the cranks but he did end up running over a few.
“Look out!” Minho yelled.
Suddenly, the Jeep was flipped on its side, the three boys inside groaning from the impact of the crash. Minho kicked his door out, getting up and coughing from the kicked up dirt. “You guys okay?” he called.
“Yeah,” Frypan groaned.
Minho went to the other side of the car when Newt kicked his door open, tumbling onto the dirt. The Runner helped him up and beckoned Frypan to exit the car. The cries of the Cranks were getting closer but Frypan still wasn’t out of the car yet.
“Fry, what the hell are you doin’?” Minho asked.
“Hang on!”
A single crank was running full speed at them, and Newt cursed as he realized his pistol holder was empty. Minho panicked, grabbing onto Frypan’s jacket and tugging insistently.
“Fry!”
The crank lunged, but was blasted back from a gunshot. Frypan stood with a smoking shotgun in his hands. The other two boys shared an appreciative look. But the other Cranks were still pushing forward.
“Run!” Minho yelled.
The three began running down the tunnel, heartbeats in their throats as their feet pounded against the dirt. Minho suddenly stopped, his arms protruding to stop his two friends. There were more cranks on the other end of the tunnel, gargling and gasping on their blood as they ran forward. They were trapped.
“You got ‘em, Fry?” the Runner asked.
“Yeah!” the cook yelled as he shot the cranks down one by one. They weren’t going down as fast as the boys wanted though. After one was shot down, one more would just replace it.
A car horn sounded in the tunnel as blinding headlights clouded their vision, running over the Cranks. The Jeep stopped in front of the boys, Brenda popping out of the sunroof with a pistol in hand. “Guys, get in!”
The boys hopped into the car and Jorge sped off, Brenda lowering herself into the passenger seat. She looked back at the boys with a smile. “You guys okay?”
“Yeah,” Minho replied.
“I’m impressed, you guys almost managed to last a whole day,” Jorge smiled.
The boys scoffed and sheepishly looked away, opting to say thanks and stare out at nature for the duration of the ride.
“That was the last checkpoint. If that is overrun then chances are the city is too,” said Jorge.
Newt glanced out to his left and said, “yeah, unless they found another way to keep the cranks out.”
Jorge followed his eyes and immediately slammed on the breaks, coming to a stop at a cliff edge. They clammored out of the vehicle to stare at the city. It truly was remarkable how WCKD decided to just build walls to solve the world’s issues.
The Last City practically sparkled in the sunlight, fancy futuristic towers looming over the ground below. A giant wall surrounded the city, keeping out the Cranks and sand. An oasis in a sea of collapsed buildings. It was certainly a sight to behold when everything you’ve been told about in the Scorch was rundown and rusty.
“Funny, we spent three years trapped behind walls, trying to break out, and now we want to break back in?” Newt said.
“Yeah, it's hilarious,” Frypan replied sarcastically with a scoff.
Minho snapped his gaze away from the city. “How do we get in Jorge?”
“Don’t look at me hermano , those walls are new. I guess that’s WCKD’s answer to everything.”
Brenda said, “Well, we ain’t gonna figure it out from up here, let’s go!” She got back in the car and waited.
Minho took a second to really look at the city. The final attachment WCKD had to the world. That’s where they were keeping Thomas, but the rescue seemed almost impossible. Even from where they stood, Minho could see what looked like giant cannons on top of the walls. The wall itself was kind of intimidating, screaming “if you come any closer, you’re dead.”
Good thing they had a death wish then, right?
He felt Newt stand behind him. “You really think he’s in there?” he asked.
Minho nodded. “Only one way to find out.” He turned to look at the second in command. He knew it was kind of a touchy subject, with the betrayal and all that, but he had to ask. “You know, she’ll be there too, right? They’re like a package deal.”
Newt’s eyebrows lowered at the mention of the girl who betrayed them. He didn’t answer, but just looked at the city one last time before getting back in the car as Jorge revved the engine. Minho sighed and followed suit.
Jorge had to park the car a little ways on the outskirts of the walls, hidden in some open warehouse abandoned long ago. The group stayed close- almost shoulder to shoulder as they walked the crowded streets. People in dirty clothes, sickly pale and clammy skin shining in the sunlight. The smell of dirt, smoke and food filled the air, and the sounds of approaching vehicles caused the sea of people to part down the middle.
They had just about reached the middle of the street. The wall looming over them reminded the three Gladers of the Maze. How trapped they felt for years until Thomas arrived. The drive to get Thomas back increased drastically, with Minho practically bouncing on his heels impatiently, just itching to run into the city.
Frypan looked up, hearing an odd whirring sound. A few drones flew right above them, observing. He wondered why WCKD would have drones on the more… ruined part of the last city.
He didn’t have to think about it much longer as he was tugged back harshly on his shirt, narrowly missing being run over. He noticed one of the many men sitting on top of the vehicles holding weapons. A buzz cut, full face gas mask and a rifle rested in his hands. The man seemed eerily familiar.
And then, they were running again, explosions tearing up the ground around them and sending citizens flying. One second, Minho was turning the corner, Newt right behind him, and next there were hands on him, manhandling him into the back of a van as he thrashed in their hold. Newt was in the van too, looking a little frazzled but uninjured, always wearing a calm rational face.
When the vans finally stopped and the doors opened, Minho saw Jorge jump out of the other van, punching a man.
“Where is she?!” He demanded, fist raised for another punch.
“I’m here! I’m here!” Brenda yelled, running into Jorge’s line of sight. He looked her over slowly, not seeing any visible injuries. “I’m okay,” she reassured. Jorge got off the man and stood protectively at her side, Frypan opting to take the other side.
The man with the buzz cut stood, one hand on his rifle and the other by his side. “Relax, we’re all on the same side here,” he said.
“What do you mean same side? Who the hell are you?” Minho asked with venom lacing his tone.
The man stared at him for a moment before moving his gaze across the rest of the group. It was slightly menacing, but confusing in Newt’s eyes. Why kidnap them ? Did they know who they were? That was impossible unless they were right arm or WCKD.
The man slowly removed his mask, facing away from them before fully turning around. Frypan felt his heart drop. How? How was Gally standing in front of them when he saw him die?
“Hey Minho,” Gally greeted.
Newt looked at Frypan to see if he was truly going insane, only to see the cook mouth “no way.” It was real.
Gally knew they didn’t have time for pleasantries or anything of the sort. He led them to Lawrence, who they tried a little too hard not to stare at. Minho just couldn’t believe it. Gally was going to help them break into the city. They’d actually have some backup.
Over the course of the next day, Gally would show them maps of the city, explaining to them when the best time to strike would be. They made plans, backup plans for the entire alphabet and stocked up on ammo and weapons.
Part of the plan included Teresa. Of course it did, she still cared about Thomas. To get to him they had to get to her. To begin the plan, they moved out at sundown, reaching the city by night. The glowing lights of the city shone bright, reflecting off the concrete and cars as they passed by.
Teresa stood at another end of the street, eyes downcast and sad as she waited for the crosswalk to turn green. She was so tired of it. She thought she betrayed the Gladers for the greater good, for the purpose of finding a cure. Seeing Thomas almost blow himself up was enough to scare her, but seeing him get shot down like that: to see him so lifeless- that scared her more than anything.
She’d been assigned to look after Thomas’ health after extracting the serum from him. It was agonizing . Watching him get hurt over and over again because of a decision she made messed with her mind. No matter how much she wished for Thomas to be safe, she knew it would never be. WCKD was too invested in him. They’d track him to the ends of the earth if he got out of their clutches now. And he was the cure, they’re bleeding him dry with not a lot of time to recover in between extractions. He was getting worse.
Teresa looked up, her eyes meeting warm brown she’d seen a long time ago. Through the Maze, the Scorch, they were comforting. Newt turned away from her, a scowl on his face as he walked away. He pushed through the people on the street, his hood up over his eyes as he walked back the way he came.
Newt kept walking even as he heard Teresa called his name over and over. He hated this plan, but it was for Tommy. He’d follow Tommy anywhere, and if he had to use Teresa to get to him- then so be it.
Gally effectively kidnapped Teresa, putting a bag over her head and dragging her the rest of the way back to the abandoned church. Minho and Frypan tensed in her presence. Newt didn’t let his scowl drop the entire time she was there, letting her know his anger was still there. Festering. Waiting to lash out.
After removing the chips from their necks, Teresa said, “you won’t last a few seconds in the building. How do you think you’ll get Tom out of there?”
Newt’s glare deepened at the nickname but before he could say anything, Gally stepped in.
“That’s where you come in. We already have uniforms and helmets, we just need the clearance.”
“My handprints,” she said.
“Yeah, and if you don’t cooperate… well, it is just your hand I need,” Gally threatened, a knife glinting in the lamplight.
She seemed convinced enough already, perhaps a little too cooperative, in Minho’s opinion. And so, all through the night they refined the plan, going through it over and over to make sure everyone knew what to do.
Gally sighed, dragging a hand down his exhausted face. “Okay, everybody got it?”
They all nodded, sporting tired expressions as well. The plan was set to execute the following night. Teresa would go back to her dwelling so as to not arouse suspicion to WCKD and join them the following night. In the meantime, Newt sat on the roof of the church, watching the glowing city light up the night. He heard familiar footsteps approaching and he sighed.
Minho flopped down next to him, gazing out at the city. He watched the billboards flash between ads for hair products and propaganda for WCKD. He was surprised that they weren’t advertising a cure yet. If he had money to bet on what Glader had the cure, it would be Thomas. He was too special to them to not be the cure. Surely they’d found something in his blood by now: something even remotely close to a cure.
Because that was their goal right? Make a cure.
“He’s in there.”
The Runner turned to look at his best friend. He stared longingly at the building with those four letters plastered on the front. In all the years knowing Newt, he’d only seen him this saddened once. He’d rather not go back to those memories, but he hated how his expressions were eerily similar.
“What?”
“Tommy is there. Just in reach.” Newt raised his hand out to the building. “He’s so close.”
“Yeah, it feels… exhilarating,” Minho replied. “Knowing that we’re only a few miles away from him.”
Newt let his hand lower, resting his forearm on his knee. The two small necklaces in his pocket felt like they weighed more than only a few ounces. He knew this would probably be the only opportunity to talk to Minho before the plan was executed but he couldn’t find the words to say. The burning pulsing in his arm reminded him of what was at stake. What was going to happen soon. He had to tell Minho.
“Min…”
The Runner hummed.
“I know that tomorrow is going to be chaotic so I’m only going to say this now. Don’t mention this to Fry or Gally, alright?”
Minho’s expression quickly turned to one of worry. “Okay…”
Newt exhaled, allowing his hand to fall over his forearm. “I’m not buggin’ immune, Min. I have the Flare.”
Minho felt his whole world shift upside down. Not only was he about to risk Thomas’ life by rescuing him, but Newt was already in danger? Has been in danger since… God knows when? He could possibly lose his two best friends in the whole world tomorrow and there he was sitting, staring dumbfounded at Newt.
Newt’s eyes nervously met his. “Say something.”
“I don’t know what to say. Newt, how long-”
“Two days ago. In the tunnel,” the boy replied, unbuttoning his jacket sleeve to reveal the wound. Inky black veins protruded from his forearm, the area around the wound red and purple. Newt scoffed at the sight. “Bloody beautiful, eh?”
Minho felt tears welling up in his eyes. “Newt… why didn’t you tell me?”
Newt’s eyebrows lowered. “You don’t think I wanted to? I couldn’t do that to you. Not when Tommy is still there.”
A few tears fell but Minho quickly wiped them away. “Thanks for telling me now, then. I wouldn’t want to know that in the heat of battle.”
“Yeah…”
They sat in silence, staring at the skyline.
“Minho, promise me something.”
“Hm?”
“No matter what happens tomorrow, promise me Tommy comes first. We get him out, we get him somewhere safe, and then we deal with this,” Newt said, determination in his features. “After all he’s done for us, this is the time we repay him.”
Minho swallowed hard, his tongue feeling heavy. He couldn’t possibly promise something like that. He cared about both of his best friends equally, and he couldn’t choose between one person or another.
“I’ll try,” he compromised.
Newt met his eye. “I need a yes or no.”
“Newt-”
“I need his safety guaranteed, Min. I don’t care what happens to me as long as he’s okay. Promise me.”
“.....I promise.” It was a lie and they both knew it. But they didn’t bother correcting it. Instead, they basked in each other's presence for what could possibly be their last night on Earth together.
Theoretically, the plan was perfect. In reality, there were a few other variables they probably should’ve considered.
Now they were trapped in a room with a bunch of other immunes, and Teresa to Newt’s disdain, and come to find out Tommy wasn’t even in that side of the building. His patience with Teresa was quickly running thin.
“Go! I’ll meet you guys on the flipside,” said Gally.
Newt stomped up to Teresa, scowling as he seethed, “get us to Tommy. Now.”
She swallowed and nodded, giving him and Minho time to place their masks back on before exiting the room. They made it to the elevator and were about to have the doors completely closed, solidifying their victory, when a hand stopped them.
“Hold,” the voice said.
Minho’s blood ran cold.
Janson stepped into the elevator, pressing a random button and eying Teresa. “What are you doing here this late?”
Teresa hesitated before answering. “There’s still so much work to be done and… Thomas needs to be looked after 24/7. He’s unpredictable.”
Janson nodded. “That’s what I like about you, Teresa. Always so willing to work.”
Newt shared a look with Minho, trying to stay calm. The elevator opened and Teresa got off, the two boys following behind her. They were met with several doctors in long white coats holding clipboards, nurses trailing after them. Several glass windows reveal the city and civilians walk around, trying to get back home.
Janson turned the corner with a bunch of soldiers behind him. “Hello Minho.”
The two Gladers stopped, Minho ripping his mask off and tugging Teresa in front of him and putting his gun to her head. Janson grinned.
“Tell them to back off,” Minho demanded, nodding to the soldiers closing in on their right.
“Hey, come on. It’s me. I’ve known you longer than you can remember, you’re not going to shoot her,” he said.
“Try me,” Minho spat. “After all she’s done to us, you don’t think I’d not put a bullet in her shucking skull?”
Janson let his hand holding the gun fall. “Come on then. Shoot her.”
Minho felt Teresa move around a bit, looking for something. He hated to say it, but at that moment he felt like he could trust her. After going over the plan with her, after seeing how she felt about Thomas being used up for a cure, surely she’d want him out of there too. Newt stood by his side, gun raised as he breathed rapidly.
“Shoot. Her.” Janson took a step forward with each word.
Teresa shuffled out of Minho’s grip and pushed them back, then pulled a fire alarm switch. A glass barrier fell between the soldiers and the Gladers.
“Clear! Move!” Janson commanded as he shot at the glass. Luckily for them, it was bulletproof.
Minho shared a look with a frazzled Teresa before moving down the hallway. Newt was right behind him, ripping off his mask as a final showoff to Janson: a punch to the gut saying “you lose.”
The two walked through the medical wing, masks off and receiving weird stares as they looked around. Doctors and nurses buzzed about, confused as to why the alarm was going off. They kept walking, heads straight and expressions as neutral as they could. Suddenly, the sounds of heavy boots hitting the floor started coming towards them.
“Shit,” Minho cursed. He tapped Newt’s arm and nodded to his left where there was an unoccupied room. They entered the darkened room and crouched behind a wall, watching dozens of soldiers run by. He felt Newt’s heavy breathing behind him.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked.
Newt’s skin was pale, sweaty, but he wiped off the liquid and nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. Instead, he pointed at the hallway, noting how empty it was.
“Alright, let’s go. We’re almost there, I can feel it.”
They exited the room and turned the corner, walking as normally as they thought a WCKD soldier could. They were walking across a three way hallway when a flash of white clouded the corner of Minho’s vision. There stood, at the end of the hallway, Ava Paige in her pristine white pantsuit.
She stared at Minho, her expression hard to decipher. Newt stopped and backtracked, following Minho’s line of sight and stilling once he saw the woman. She’d caused them so much pain, so much grief in their life that Minho found himself lifting his pistol, pointing it right between her eyes. His hand shook as he hesitated.
Newt heard footsteps to the right, seeing Janson walking down the hallway. He ducked, moving to grab Minho and drag him behind the wall as shots fired. Ava fled much to both their dismay.
They walked faster down the hallways, guns raised and pointing them at doctors so that they’d get out of their way. There was no reason to be subtle now, Minho thought.
“Thomas!” he yelled. “Thomas!”
They fired at the WCKD soldiers coming at them, managing to stun a few with the electrifying bullets. They turned down an unoccupied hallway, running as Minho called once again, “Thomas!”
Thomas woke up to muffled shouts and gunfire. He couldn’t move, his head was tilted sideways, blocking his view of what was happening. He opened his eyes all the way, taking in his surroundings. Flashing lights, running citizens… something was wrong. But it was his chance to escape. He clutched onto Teresa’s hairpin like a lifeline, ready to strike although his limbs ached and barely responded to his brain’s commands.
“Doctor, he’s coming out of it,” a woman said.
“Get me that sedative,” the doctor said, voice shaking.
A few seconds later, a light shone on his eyes right as he opened them, frightening the nurse holding the flashlight. He attacked, stabbing the hairpin into the man’s thigh causing him to yell out in agony. The man in the WCKD uniform charged, but Thomas pushed him back with his legs and he went tumbling into a cart of glassware. The doctor almost got him with the sedative needle, but Thomas was faster, moving behind the man and forcing his arm to his neck, injecting the syringe into his own bloodstream.
The man in black was once again on his feet as Thomas charged. He raised his gun and fired.
Minho and Newt shot at the WCKD soldiers, running as they did so. They turned another corner where more soldiers ran at them guns drawn. They were taken down in an instant. Minho threw his electric blaster to the floor, out of ammo, and started shooting with his pistol.
The onslaught of soldiers were quickly taken care of with a taser grenade Newt threw. They got up from behind their cover and began running again.
“Come on, let’s go,” Newt said, grabbing Minho’s arm.
They’d reached a smaller hallway where one soldier stopped them, commanding, “you two, freeze!”
The two Gladers stopped, frozen with fear as they realized they had no other weapons to use to defend themselves. Newt squeezed Minho’s arm, anticipating a shot.
“Get down on the ground, now!” the soldier demanded. The two didn’t comply. “I said get your ass on the ground-”
A blur of blue and gray knocked into the soldier, pinning him against the wall and punching him before throwing the man through one of the glass displays. The person stood, staring at the glass, panting, before turning to look at Minho and Newt. Impassive chocolate eyes they’d been so desperate to see stared right at them.
Newt felt his heart soar. “Tommy…”
Thomas’ dull eyes lit up when he heard the nickname. Minho and Newt rushed forward, engulfing Thomas into a hug. He hugged them back with equal fervor, pulling away to look at their faces. He smiled, truly smiled even though he looked like hell. He locked eyes with Minho.
“Is this real?” he questioned, eyes looking unsure.
Minho clapped his shoulder and laughed, “yeah, you better believe it’s real you ugly shank.”
Newt let his hand rest on the back of Thomas’ neck, taking in his malnourished and bruised form. He couldn’t believe he finally had him back. They’d done it. Tommy was back. “Tommy, what did they do to you?”
Thomas’ eyes filtered to him. A wobbly smile covered his face, but he didn’t get to answer as little figures moved in his peripheral vision. He was pulled back as the soldiers fired and soon enough, he was running again. They stopped in another unoccupied room, hiding from the guards.
Thomas could see Minho going through the plan in his head, thinking of what to do next. The only thing he saw in the Runner’s eyes was escape.
“Minho, wait,” he said. Both Gladers turned to him as he spoke, confused. “We need to find the cure.”
Newt’s face fell. “Tommy, what are you bloody talking about? A cure?”
“I overheard Teresa talking to me. A long while ago, they found out my blood was the cure-“ he cut himself off as a soldier passed by before continuing “-and they drained me, making it all into the cure for mass distribution. They have it locked up here somewhere.”
Minho shared a look of hope with Newt. The blonde boy was slowly but surely beginning to look worse. His skin was clammy now, his hair wet from sweating, and his blue veins stuck out more than usual. His temper was also another bad sign.
“Newt…” Minho whispered.
“I know,” the boy replied.
“We need to hurry though. I don’t like the sounds that are going on outside,” said Thomas, wearily glancing between his two best friends.
They glanced outside where more soldiers scurried by, barking orders at each other. They waited until they could only hear the alarms before moving. Minho went first, followed by Thomas and then Newt following in the rear. He was not going to allow Thomas out of his sight, not again.
They moved swiftly through the abandoned corridors, looking into each room through the large glass windows. Thomas was trying to keep up with Minho as best as he could, but being sedated and drained of all your blood was bound to have repercussions. As Minho got further ahead of him, Newt’s warm hand found the space between his shoulder blades, lightly pushing him.
“Come on, Tommy. We’re not giving up now.”
“Never was,” Thomas panted. “Just a little tired.”
They kept moving, catching up with Minho as he rounded another corner. He had started pulling on the door handles to see if they’d open, and sure enough, most of them didn’t. They made their way down another long hallway, trying every door they came across. It wasn’t until the second to last door that Newt called out, “this one!”
The boys flanked the door. Newt opened it while Minho entered first to scan for any threats. Once deemed clear, he opened the door wider for his two friends. The room was small, about the size of Frypan’s kitchen back in the Glade. A large window overlooks the burning city, the fleeing civilians and WCKD soldiers. It was a smaller lab of some sorts, with microscopes and petri dishes haphazardly strewn about the room in the panic.
On one of the tables lie a rack of test tubes full of a blue liquid. Newt ran up to them, picking one up and inspecting it carefully.
“This it?” he asked.
“No, they’d be packaged up already. Maybe in here,” Thomas said, pointing to a stack of crates branded by WCKD.
They opened the first crate, seeing nothing inside. Thomas felt his heart sink. He hastily threw the crate to the side and opened the one under it. Nothing. Minho checked the other crates as Newt searched the other side of the room.
“No, no no! It was here! All of it was here!” Thomas said frustratedly.
Before Newt or Minho could interject, the sounds of footsteps echoed down the hall. Minho moved to shut the door and Newt pushed one of the tables in front of the door just in case. Meanwhile, Thomas paced the room, his hands running through his hair as he thought of what to do.
He knew Newt was infected. He knew it the second he pulled away from the hug and scanned him, thinking it was all another delusion from WCKD. The dark veins protruding from his neck, the sickly pale skin and fatigue coating his features were all screaming at Thomas. This was his only hope of saving his best friend and he couldn’t even do that.
Not the last hope you have , his thoughts said.
He tensed, pausing mid step. Just the thought of trusting Teresa to make a cure for Newt made his stomach uneasy. Who’s to say she wouldn’t betray him again? What if his decision costs Newt his life? Throughout his time with WCKD, he had seen Teresa a lot. She would speak to him, he would ignore her. She’d keep him updated on his condition and how the development of a cure was going, but he couldn’t care less.
But he knew that she still cared about him. Why else would she bother visiting him, offering her comforting words and running her hand through his sweat soaked hair as she tried to clean his face of that same sweat. Teresa often comforted him after WCKD ran their simulations, telling him that his best friends were fine and safe, that nothing was his fault. He hated to admit it, but he clinged onto her words like a lifeline. He knew of nothing going on outside the city, so he always hoped she was right.
Maybe if I ask, she’ll do it , Thomas thought. She’s always had a soft spot for me.
When he came back to reality, there were sparks flying from the door handle, and Minho was in front of him snapping his fingers with a worried expression.
“-mas! I could really use one of your shucked plans right now!”
“Didn’t you break in here? Don’t you have a plan of escape?”
“We did, but of course nothing goes to plan when something involves you,” Minho quipped back.
Thomas looked around. The only entrance and exit to the room was the locked door that was currently being sawed. There were no air ducts to crawl through, no other doors connecting other rooms to this one. His eyes scanned every inch of the room until he landed on the window.
“Oh, I see it now. Tommy’s got a plan,” Newt piped up, coming to stand by Thomas’ left side. “Spit it out already.”
“Minho, help me with this.”
The two Runners moved to grab a spare oxygen tank from the corner of the room. They went to the middle of the room, getting a running start before throwing the tank at the window, shattering it to millions of pieces. They ran up to the window, following the tank until it hit the small pool of water beneath them. They were high up, Thomas guessed around ten to thirteen stories, and the fall was going to hurt, he knew.
“Okay, it’s doable,” he said lightheartedly, looking between his two friends before nervously adding, “just need a little running start.”
Minho and Newt shared a look, mentally tallying this to the list of insane plans Thomas has made. Either way, there was no other option. They joined Thomas, who was bouncing up and down trying to hype himself up and make the fear go away.
“You sure about this?” Minho asked.
“Not really,” he replied.
The Runner playfully glared at Thomas. “Nice pep talk.”
“Yeah, we’re all bloody inspired,” Newt commented.
They stood there for a moment, preparing for the jump when the sparks stopped, the sound of the saw disappearing. Then, the door opened slightly, soldiers screaming to move in.
“Shit!” Thomas cursed before taking off, jumping out the window.
Minho and Newt followed behind, flailing their arms uselessly.
“Thomas!!” Minho roared over the sound of the wind.
“Oh shi-” Thomas said, being cut off by hitting the water.
They emerged a moment later, with Thomas looking up at a furious Janson before flipping him off.
Well, great, Minho thought. If they weren’t off script then, they certainly were now. Their equipment got fried in the water, and they had no way to communicate with Gally or Brenda. Minho thought of a new plan as they helped each other out of the pool. Some guards showed up, guns raised but were quickly taken out by another guard. He removed his helmet and Minho and Newt sighed in relief.
“You have to be the dumbest shanks out there, jumping from a height like that,” said Gally. His eyes flickered to a wide eyed Thomas. “Hey Greenie,” he nodded.
“Gally?” Thomas asked. He felt unbridled fury rise within him, screaming at him to get justice for Chuck, to kill Gally on the spot. He didn’t get that far before Minho put himself between the two.
“Thomas, no,” he said. “I know, okay? But he helped us get this far, helped us get you back.”
“He killed Chuck,” Thomas seethed.
Newt’s hand found his tense shoulder. “I know, but he’s our only shot of getting out of here unscathed, you hear me? He knows this place, we don’t. We need him.”
Thomas thought it over, knowing his friends were right. He sighed, letting his shoulders fall. Gally’s return would be a matter to discuss later. Right now, they need to focus on getting that cure. Newt was starting to sway on his feet, his eyes focusing in and out on what was happening.
While Minho and Gally discussed plans, Thomas led Newt to sit against a concrete flower pot, the colorful flowers wilting. Newt sighed, his eyebrows lowered.
“Newt-”
“I’m okay Tommy,” the boy interrupted, his eyes finding Thomas’. Oh how he just wanted to stop time, to stare into his eyes. After not seeing them for six months, he memorized them. Their color, the way his pupils dilated, the small bits of light brown that surrounded the outer rims of his eyes. If he wasn’t going to make it through the night, he wanted to make sure he made every second count.
“You’re not,” Thomas pressed, and God did Newt sometimes hate how stubborn he was. “I know, okay? I know and I want to help you.”
“How?” Newt asked, his tone defeated. “All the cure is gone, Tommy. They took it and it’s only a matter of time before I’m past the Gone. After that…no, before then, one of you slintheads is going to put a bullet in my brain.”
Newt hated how his words made Thomas’s face fall into one of horror, sadness, fear; like he couldn’t bear hearing the words tumble out of his mouth. Thomas took one of Newt’s clammy hands in his own, a spark of determination in his eyes.
“I won’t let that happen,” he declared. The spark turned into a flame, and Newt knew there was something going on in his brain.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Tommy, any of you. I need you to do this before I crank out.”
“I won’t let you turn, Newt. I’m not having it.”
“Tommy, listen to me-” Newt could feel his uncontrollable temper starting to rise no matter how hard he tried to contain it. His heart was beating erratically, eyes boring into Thomas’s as if it’d help convey his message. Thomas’s hand was warm, grounding in the sea of the Flare he was swimming in. He grasped at the boy’s hand, holding it so tight that Thomas winced. “I need you to take this, okay?”
He reached up with his right hand to tug at the constricting WCKD uniform. He reached down his shirt, tugging the small necklace off his neck, holding it out for Thomas to take. Thomas stared at the swinging capsule on a string, his brain providing him with the worst of scenarios. He didn’t want to take it. He felt like taking it was accepting that Newt was going to-... No, he wasn’t going to take it.
“Newt, I can’t-”
“Tommy, just take it-” he tried shoving the necklace into Thomas’s free hand, but the boy fought back. He wasn’t going to allow Thomas to go through with another reckless plan just after he’d gotten him back. He wasn’t going to let him out of his sight. But Thomas was the most stubborn shank he’d had the fortune of befriending.
“No-”
“Just take it-”
“I can’t-”
“Take it!” Newt roared. He coughed, a string of black liquid streaming down the corner of his mouth, more coming up as he coughed. The fluid coated his chin and ran down his neck, and he could feel the Flare slowly eating away at the control over his own body. He shoved the necklace at Thomas’s chest, eyes glistening with tears. “Take it,” he softly begged. “Please Tommy, please.”
Thomas stared at his best friend, watching the gooey black liquid run down his pale skin. He’d promised himself he’d save Newt, no matter the cost, and if that meant taking the necklace even though it felt like a final death sentence, he’d do it. And so he grabbed the hand holding the necklace with his own, squeezing it reassuringly as he softly said, “okay.”
Newt slumped in relief, allowing his hands to go limp as he stared off to the side at the chaos around them. Minho and Gally had bolted to Thomas’s side at the sound of Newt’s shouting, and their faces matched Thomas’s own. Fearful. Not of their friend, but of how much time they had left before he was past the Gone.
Thomas turned to Gally as Minho tried to keep Newt’s attention on him. “I need to get back in there,” he nodded to the WCKD tower.
Gally’s eyes widened a fraction, but quickly schooled his expression. “That’s gotta be the dumbest thing I’ve heard you say.”
Even though he knew Gally was joking, Thomas felt his own anger flare up. “It’ll definitely be the stupidest thing I’ve done, but I have to do it. My blood is the cure. If I can just get to Teresa-”
“Wait, you want to go crawling back into her arms after we just got you out? To her ?” Gally asked, his eyebrows lowering dangerously in annoyance.
Thomas rolled his eyes as he said, “if you’d just let me explain you’d know why. She still cares about me-”
“Obviously-”
“-which means she’ll listen to me. Or at least consider what I have to say. If I ask her to make another batch of the cure, she’ll do it. She never wanted us to die, Gally. And Newt-” he stopped to look over at the boy in question. Minho was helping him up as he stumbled. The sight made Thomas’s heart sink. They were losing precious time just sitting there bickering. “He doesn’t have much time. And I’m not losing him after I just got to see him again.”
A flash of understanding crossed Gally’s eyes as they flickered between Newt and Thomas. He looked at their surroundings, flinching when a helicopter flew above them. Finally, he sighed, “what’s your plan?”
Thomas turned as Newt coughed again, but faced Gally once more. “I need you and Minho to get Newt out of here. It’s too dangerous to stay here.”
“Brenda and Jorge brought the berg. I’ll bring them there.”
“Okay. I’ll go back, find Teresa, get her to make another batch, and meet you back at the berg.”
Gally nodded. “Sounds simple enough. But in execution… nothing ever goes right with you shanks. We’ll come to you. Just get to the roof once you have the cure.”
“Alright,” Thomas said before standing.
“Greenie.”
He looked down.
“Be quick.”
Newt coughed again, this time more black blood oozing from his lips. Thomas nodded, watching his friends. It hit him suddenly, that this may be the last time he was going to see them. He could die, obviously, but with Janson still running around trying to get to them, anything was possible. But it was just him Janson wanted: the cure. If he turned himself in, Minho and Newt were safe. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
And so Thomas made the hardest decision he’d made yet. He turned his back on his friends right as they looked back at him, and he started walking.
Newt’s arm was slung around Minho’s shoulders for support, and he watched with a frown as Thomas began walking away. He hacked up more blood, letting it fall to the pristine concrete without a care. Where was Thomas going?
“Tommy?” he called.
Thomas didn’t look back, and Newt panicked. His heartbeat picked up, his hands shaking as they reached for him. “Tommy-”
“What are you doing you shank?” Minho asked, his voice confused and hurt.
“Come on, we’ve gotta go,” Gally interrupted. He tried blocking their view of Thomas as he picked up his pace.
The two Gladers looked at Gally before trying to move past him. He held his arms out to stop them. Newt practically fell over, with Gally now holding all his weight and trying to stop Minho’s fighting form.
“Thomas! Where are you going?”
“Tommy!” Newt yelled.
Thomas felt tears spring into his eyes at the desperate cries of his best friends. But he couldn’t turn back now. He had to save Newt, even if it meant leaving them after just reuniting with them. He started running back into the building just as Minho fought harder against Gally, and Newt fell to the ground. Minho watched as Thomas entered the building before taking off into a run.
He pushed Gally back while yelling, “what the hell, Gally? What’re you doing? Where’s he-”
“We don’t have time, Minho. The Greenie has a plan and we need to follow it if-” he cut himself off to hoist Newt off the ground. He gave Minho a pointed look, and the Runner finally understood.
“Okay…” he shakily exhaled. He moved to Newt’s other side to help support him. “We’ve gotta be quick.”
“I know.”
They traversed into the danger with a spark of hope in their chests. Gally just hoped Thomas’s choice wouldn’t get himself or Newt killed.
Thomas was beginning to question his own plan.
Obviously it was rushed, and he didn’t even think about having to actually know the layout of the building in order to find Teresa, but he still ran through the crowd of fleeing doctors and nurses. He had to do this.
He reached a stairwell and immediately began climbing. If he could find the labs again, he was sure she’d be there.
He was in bed, facing the wall as he tried to sleep. The images of blood and pale skin flashed in his mind, forcing him to stay awake. He lied there in silence, trying and failing to think of something other than his beloved friends dying. Killed by a griever. No, wait, they were killed by Janson. No…they were-.... How did they die?
The door to the room unlocked and then opened, the familiar sounds of clicking heels echoing in the small dark room. A weight lowered the mattress behind him. He felt the hesitant fingertips brushing the back of his hair.
“Tom.”
Teresa.
“I’m sorry for everything. I know I don’t say it to your face because I’m too scared to. And I know you’ll never forgive me for what I did.”
She fell silent for a moment, sniffing before moving her hand farther up his hair. She combed her hand through the sweat soaked hair.
“And I know you’ll scoff at me when I say that I still care about you. All of you. But it’s the truth. I only ever did this to help all of you, all of humanity. My efforts weren’t wasted.”
What?
“It’s you,” she whispered, as if it were some big corporate secret. Which, at the moment, it was. Who knows what the public would do if they knew Thomas was the answer to their problems?
“You’re the cure. We’re going to save everyone, just like I promised.”
We didn’t save them, Thomas thought. What about my friends?
“I’ll be stuck in the labs a lot more once they get more blood from you. I won’t be able to visit as much, I hope you understand.”
She stopped the comforting motion of combing his hair, rubbing his scalp gently with her nails. She sighed, “you can’t even hear me, you’re asleep. What am I doing?”
Teresa gently patted his hair down one last time before standing. “Whatever happens next, I’m truly sorry Tom.”
Thomas reached the labs a lot quicker than he thought he would. It was completely abandoned by this point, the hallways void of any signs of life. Papers were strewn about, batons and grenades on the floor and doors ajar at different angles. The emergency lights flashed, prompting him to blink every few seconds.
He walked as quietly as he could, picking up a baton from a fallen soldier as he went along. Even though he spent many months in this facility, he knew absolutely nothing about its layout. He was mostly sedated and carried to the labs as a precaution because, as Janson said, “he’s unpredictable when he’s awake.”
Thomas searched every room swiftly, only stopping to hide in an empty room when he heard two sets of footsteps and bickering voices. Three different tones. As they came closer, he hid himself further into the wall.
“-son this is not up for discussion.”
“I think it should be, Director. We’ve lost our only cure!”
Thomas tensed, gripping the baton tighter. Janson yelling was never a good sign. They slowly began walking by the room he occupied. It was Teresa and Ava Paige following him. Janson looked worse for wear. Furious, frazzled, all of the above. If Thomas didn’t know any better, he’d say he was infected-
Wait. His veins… they were dark, crawling up the pale skin of his neck and hands. He was infected. No wonder he was furious. His only cure had just escaped. Thomas had to be extra careful, and separate Teresa from the two adults. He knew Janson would stop at nothing to get the cure, only for himself. He’d probably kill Thomas after he got the cure just because he thought of him as a nuisance.
Teresa fell behind the two of them as they talked, not wanting to interrupt. That’s when she heard a light thump. She stopped and looked behind her, finding nothing. Then another thump from her right. She watched as Thomas showed the top half of his face, eyes darting back into the room then back at her before his whole face retreated into the darkness.
She looked at Ava and Janson. They seemed to be too engrossed in their argument to be paying attention to her, so she slipped into the room. Thomas sat on the floor next to the door, motioning for her to get in the room. She kneeled in front of him, her expression shocked.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered. Her eyes darted from the door to Thomas’s.
“I need you to make another batch of the cure.”
“What? That’s seriously what you came back for?”
“I need it,” Thomas said desperately.
Teresa searched his eyes, only finding desperation and pleading. Thomas never pleaded with anyone. It was only then did she realize why he came back. Who he came back for.
“Newt,” she whispered. Thomas’s expression fell, and that was all she needed to know. “Okay, but I need lab equipment. Follow me.”
Even though Thomas’s limbs screamed at him to stop, to rest, he followed her. She checked both ways before exiting the room, hurriedly leading him away from where Janson and Ava had gone. They turned a few corners before Teresa entered a room. There was an operating table and a bunch of shelves with lab equipment stacked on them. A large window looked from the hallway into the room, which Thomas knew was going to pose a threat.
Thomas quietly closed the door behind them and locked it for good measure. Teresa pointed at the operating table and he sat down, hands fiddling with the weapon in his hands. She came over a moment later with a needle.
“This’ll hurt.”
She inserted the needle, Thomas wincing slightly as she did so. His blood filled up the syringe and she stepped back. Teresa made her way over to a station with a bunch of different machines.
“It’ll take about five minutes for it to finish.”
Out of the corner of his eyes, Thomas saw a flash of movement. He ran, grabbing Teresa and pulling her down in one swift movement, pressing his fingers to his lips when she gave him a confused expression.
“Come on out, Teresa~” Janson’s voice echoed. “Where’d you go?”
“She probably fled with everyone else, Janson. I told her to,” came the voice of Ava Paige. She sounded very annoyed but also very defeated.
“No, no she wouldn’t do that, not with a cure in her mind. I saw Thomas come back. He’s in here somewhere.”
“Leave him be, Janson. It’s over. The City is crumbling and we don’t have much time before this building falls too.”
He heard Janson inhale deeply before a loud bang caused both of them to jump. He heard a thump, followed by a sigh.
“Such a pacifist now, Ava? After all you’ve done to those kids…” Janson trailed, tsking. “It’s my turn now.”
His footsteps receded down the medical wing as he called out for Thomas and Teresa. Once they deemed it safe to move, Teresa looked out the window, only to wish she didn’t. Ava was on the floor, her head blown to bits from the close proximity at which she was shot. Her brains littered the floor, and her blood painted the floors, ceiling and walls. She covered her mouth and fell back to the floor.
Thomas knew he shouldn’t feel bad for Teresa. After her betrayal and letting him be a blood bank for half a year, he knew he shouldn’t feel sympathy for her. But he thought back to those nights where she stroked his hair like an older sister would. Where she offered him comforting words, where she rubbed his back as he cried when being brought out of WCKD’s simulations. He shouldn’t want to comfort her back, right? After all she did…
But his hand moved without thinking, and he grabbed her shoulder firmly: all his words he wanted to say were put into the touch. She looked at him with vulnerable eyes full of unshed tears. Her resolve hardened. She had to get Thomas and the cure out of there.
The machine beeped, and Teresa carefully walked to the device. She pulled out two vials of blue liquid, giving each one an experimental twirl before holding them out to Thomas. He took them gingerly, placing them in his pants pocket and zipping it up. Just then, another loud bang erupted right next to them.
The window cracked, Janson standing behind the glass with a maniacal grin. Thomas grabbed Teresa, moving her out of the line of fire as another bullet hit the glass, shattering it. Janson kept the gun trained on Thomas as he haphazardly vaulted into the room.
“Oh, Thomas. For all your smarts, you really are an idiot.”
Thomas stayed quiet, his knuckles turning white from the grip on the baton. He surprisingly had another plan thanks to Janson breaking the glass, but he knew it was risky. But he had to try.
“Just give me the cure and I’ll- oomph!”
Thomas threw the baton at Janson’s head mid speech and made a break for the empty window frame. He made it over easily, Teresa right on his heels. Janson yelled after them, his movements sloppy. Thomas led Teresa down hallways, turning corner after corner until Teresa pointed forwards.
“This way!”
The sign above the door said ‘stairs’, and Thomas nearly groaned. He already had to climb ten flights of stairs and he was exhausted. Blood loss and being awake for over twenty four hours will do that to you. They burst through the door as Janson rounded the corner, firing two shots. None of them hit, and Thomas locked the door behind them and Teresa began running up the stairs, Thomas on her heels.
“Is there a faster way to the roof?” he wheezed.
“An elevator on the next floor. It’s right next to the stairs.”
They ran up the flight of stairs and opened the door. Sure enough, the elevator was right next to them. Teresa pressed the up arrow button feverishly, a bad feeling in her gut. She was right. Janson rounded the corner of the hallway in front of them, gun raised and a furious expression as blood dripped down the side of his face. How he got to that floor, Thomas would never know.
“It’s over, Thomas! Give me the cure!” Janson roared. Then, his expression went blank, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Don’t make me shoot.”
The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open. Teresa grabbed his arm and dragged him inside just as Janson fired. Thomas felt a stinging sensation in his abdomen, looking down as Teresa pressed the rooftop button. Janson made a run for the elevator as the doors began closing, but was tackled by a loose crank, his guttural screams of being torn apart muffled as the elevator ascended. Thomas swayed, hitting the side of the elevator and falling to his knees.
“Tom!” Teresa said, concern lacing her tone. Her hands made quick work of tearing her lab coat and wrapping it tightly around Thomas’s waist, earning a pained groan from him. “Sorry.”
The elevator stopped, opening the doors to a rooftop on fire. Teresa looked out at the skyline, determined. Thomas was too weak to carry himself anymore, swaying just sitting down. She lifted him up with a grunt, slinging his arm over her shoulder as she brought them outside. The flames nicked at them, hot and painful.
Over the sounds of the explosions, Teresa heard an engine. A loud, booming engine that only belonged to one vehicle. A black berg emerged from the skyline, its many lights blinking at her.
“Tom, look! They’re almost here!”
She brought them further onto the helipad, where the ramp opened to reveal Brenda, Frypan and Gally. They reached the edge of the ramp, holding their hands out.
“Come on!” Brenda yelled over the roaring wind.
Teresa got as close as she could, tossing Thomas onto the ramp with all the strength she could muster. They caught him and laid him down before Brenda turned to Teresa, holding her hand out again. She shook her head, tears filling her eyes again.
She knew there was no forgiveness for her. Her mission was to find a cure, to save humanity. And in a way, she did. She delivered the cure to the Right Arm, where they were sure to go somewhere safe, where WCKD could never steal anything from them again. There would never be a place for her at the Safe Haven, she knew. Not after what she did.
And as she felt the building crumbling behind her, she was filled with a sense of accomplishment- a sense of clarity, that she did what she was tasked with doing. Tears fell just as she did, knowing that her final actions were good.
Brenda watched with horror as Teresa got lost in the flaming debris before turning her attention to Thomas. His eyes were glazed over and he stared at the ceiling. His head tilted to the side, looking further into the berg. A cot held a thrashing person. A person with dirty blonde hair and comforting brown eyes and black veins…
“Newt,” Thomas said, a newfound sense of adrenaline pumping in his blood. He pushed the helping hands away as he crawled across the floor. He reached Newt’s cot, unzipping his pants pocket.
Newt yelled, screamed, thrashed around and fought against the leather restraints holding him to the cot. His entire front torso was covered in the black blood, his white teeth coated in the substance. His eyes were fully black, no comfort in them. It was heartbreaking. Thomas never wanted to see Newt like this again. And he wouldn’t.
“Newt.”
The boy stopped thrashing, eyes gaining some clarity as they met Thomas’s. His chest heaved with every wheezy breath.
“Tommy,” he whispered in disbelief.
Thomas leaned over with the cure in his hand. He placed the needle onto the skin of Newt’s neck. “This might hurt,” he said. He pressed the needle into his skin, watching the blue fluid enter his bloodstream. Newt yelled again, his voice inhuman as he thrashed again, hitting Thomas with his head.
Gally and Minho were on him in an instant, trying to pull Thomas away from him, but Thomas held onto the edge of the cot with all the strength he had left. He was not leaving Newt, not ever. But Thomas didn’t see what Gally saw: the bloodlust covering Newt’s blackened eyes as they locked onto Thomas’s collarbones.
“Thomas-” he said, trying to pry the Greenie away. It was too late.
Newt craned his neck upwards, his teeth sinking into Thomas’ neck. There was yelling: so much yelling from Thomas, the other Gladers and Brenda, and screams from the rescued Immunes. They managed to get Thomas away, blood now streaming down his neck as well as his torso.
Newt continued to snap his bloody teeth at Minho and Brenda, screaming until his voice cracked. Then, he stopped, falling back onto the cot, chest heaving. Minho watched in awe as the black veins began receding, the inky darkness of Newt’s eyes returning to the normal hazel color. He breathed in shakily, without any pain for the first time in months. His eyes quickly found Thomas passed out in Frypan’s hold as the cook applied pressure to his neck, yelling for medical help.
“Tommy?” he asked, tears falling from his red rimmed eyes. “Tommy!”
“Newt, please relax-” Gally tried.
“I hurt him… shit, I hurt-” Newt stopped himself, allowing his tears to fall as he looked at the ceiling. Sobs wracked his body. “I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s okay. We’ll talk about this later,” Minho said, still cautious of his friend even though he knew the threat was gone. “Get some rest and we’ll take care of Thomas.”
“But-”
“No but’s,” Minho said firmly, nodding at Gally to watch him.
They placed Thomas in a cot a few feet away from Newt’s, Vince coming to help aid them in pressing on Thomas’s wounds. The last thing Newt saw before succumbing to his exhaustion was Thomas’s peaceful expression staring back at him.
Thomas woke to the muffled sounds of the ocean. That couldn’t be right, he thought. He opened his eyes to a roof made of large wooden sticks and white fabric. Thomas sat up slowly, wincing as his wound was jostled, lifting his shirt to see white bandages neatly wrapped around him. He reached his hand up to his neck, feeling the same bandages wrapping him. He wondered what happened there. The room he was in was small, and eerily reminded him of the Med-Jack tent back in the Glade. He sat on a makeshift bed next to a table full of old bottles and bandages. There was a wooden stool right beside the bed, pulled up to the edge of the blankets. The cloth door was fluttering ajar, sunlight filtering in.
Thomas stood with the aid of the wall, limping as he made his way to the cloth door. He flipped it open, gaping at the sight in front of him. Bright blue skies and crisp salty air, white grains of sand and vegetation surrounding a beach. Blue waves of saltwater crashed into the shore. To his right was something he’d thought he’d never see.
A campfire, with a bunch of people tying wooden sticks together. There were other people carrying large logs to the ‘camp’ and some were already hammering wooden poles into the ground. He began walking towards civilization dazedly. He spotted Vincent teaching a group of boys how to whittle a stick, and Gally hammering wood into the dirt. His eyes landed on Minho, who was sitting by the campfire.
The Runner spotted him, his expression turning shocked as he stood. He ran over to Thomas, pulling him into a hug. The boy clung onto the back of Thomas’s shirt, squeezing him painfully.
“Minho-”
“Right, sorry,” Minho chuckled, pulling away to look at his friend. “It’s good to see you up and about you lazy shank.”
Brenda followed behind him, grabbing his arm and bringing her arms around his neck. “It’s so good to see you,” she said into his shoulder.
“You too, Bren,” Thomas greeted. There was a clap on his shoulder, and he turned to see the soft smile Jorge presented.
“Nice to get you back in one piece, hermano ,” the man said playfully.
They chuckled before Thomas’s expression fell serious. Minho nodded at him and began walking, Thomas following behind. They walked to the treeline where another tent was set up. Minho stopped a few yards from the tent.
“It’s been rough the past week you’ve been out. He’s visited you every day, only leaving to go eat whatever Frypan whips up. Hell, I bet he’ll be mad that you woke up the second he left the tent to change,” Minho said softly. He looked at Thomas, eyes flickering to the bandage on his neck. “Take it easy.”
With that, Minho turned on his heel and went back to the campfire. Thomas exhaled shakily, wiping his clammy palms on his pants. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden?
He shook his head and hiked up to the tent, ducking under the flap. The hut was the exact same as the one Thomas woke up in, except this one held another occupant. Newt sat on the cot, his head between his hands. He wore clean clothes: a white long sleeve shirt and brown pants, completed with black shoes. Thomas noticed the black string hanging from his neck, the capsule charm glistening in the sunlight.
Thomas checked his pockets. They were empty. Newt took it back. Why? He stepped further into the hut, the wood creaking under his feet and causing Newt’s head to shoot up.
His eyes widened, taking in Thomas’s form. Thomas looked at his eyes, seeing the lovely hazel color instead of black. They stared at each other for a moment, scanning each other for injuries.
“Tommy?” Newt’s voice was unsure and small. His eyes glistened with tears.
Thomas simply nodded, and that was all the blonde boy needed. He launched forward, wrapping his arms around Thomas’s neck and burying his face in his shoulder. Thomas reciprocated, allowing his arms to lock around his friend. He felt Newt shake and his shoulder became wet with tears.
“I’m so sorry, Tommy, I never meant to-”
“I know.”
Newt pulled away, his tear stained, flushed face only inches from Thomas’s. His eyes flickered down to the bandages wrapped around his neck as Minho’s did before. He brought his hand up to lightly trace the bandage. Guilt coated his expression, more tears springing to his eyes. Thomas took hold of his hand.
“It’s okay. I’ll heal,” he said with a smile. “Are you okay?”
Newt scoffed, sitting back down on the cot. “I feel like shit even after sleeping for a few days.”
Thomas sat beside him, knee to knee. “No signs of the Flare?”
“No. I’m cured.”
“Good.”
“That was bloody stupid, by the way,” Newt reprimanded. “Going back there was probably the dumbest decision you’ve ever made.”
“Gally said the same thing when I told him,” Thomas smiled, eyes crinkling with mirth. “But I did it for you.”
Newt’s eyes widened a fraction. “What?”
“I couldn’t let you die, Newt. Not after all you’ve done for me, and because I care about you too much to let you go.”
Newt felt his heart swell. Tommy did that all for him. He didn’t know whether to feel honored or even more in love, but who’s to say he couldn’t be both?
He reached over and intertwined his fingers with Thomas’s, a smile crossing his face. He felt Thomas squeeze his hand reassuringly. Newt knew he’d follow Thomas anywhere. He was scared when Thomas turned his back on him, left him in Gally and Minho’s care when they’d just broken into a high tech city to get him back, especially when he knew he wouldn’t be able to follow him. He had kicked, screamed and punched Gally and Minho on the way back to the berg just to try and get back to Tommy’s side.
But he knew, somewhere in his Flare ridden brain, that Thomas always came back to him. The night in the Maze, when they got separated in the Scorch, when WCKD took him: there was always that gut feeling that Thomas would pull through and escape. That he’d return unscathed. And even though he was battered and beaten blue, he was alive. He returned to Newt and gave him the cure even in his lucid state.
Newt squeezed back, thinking how lucky he was to have someone like Thomas by his side. He stared at Thomas, at the chocolate eyes he adored, the fair skin littered with small moles and the sharp nose and jawline that he’d grown to love. He chuckled to himself when he saw the blue shirt he wore. Somehow the boy had always managed to wear blue during their crazy rescue and escape plans. It was stupid to laugh at, but he couldn’t help it.
Thomas smiled at him, and God did that have Newt’s heart racing a million miles an hour. “What?” he asked incredulously.
“I love you.”
Thomas’ eyes widened adorably, his mouth parted slightly before the smile grew wider, the hand holding his squeezing even tighter. A promise.
“I love you more,” he said. They sat there smiling like lovesick fools, hand in hand until Minho came to tell them dinner was being made.
After dinner and Vincent’s speech, Newt walked beside Thomas up to the stone holding hundreds of names of their fallen friends. He handed the knife to Thomas, his hand coming to rest across his shoulders in a side hug as Thomas began to carve. Things were going to be different. They knew it was going to be difficult to move on from everything that happened, but it would be okay. They had each other to confide in, and a new life to live. Free of WCKD, free of the Flare, and free of any worries.