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Deep within the Scorch, inside a pristine facility, Chuck sits on his bed, staring at the wall.
In the next few minutes, a doctor will walk through those doors and give him the Swipe, and he’ll be sent up into the Maze Trials. His appearance will act as another variable – how the Gladers deal with the responsibility of a child, and how his eventual death will impact them.
He is destined to die, after all.
*
The Box comes back up today.
This is no strange feat. It comes up once a month, always with new supplies and a Greenie. Wyck and Louis take inventory, give the lists to Newt, and then run off to their respective jobs. Zart and the other Track-hoes normally take out the supplies – they don’t often have a lot of work to do daily.
Newt is tasked with showing around the Greenie.
It used to be Alby, back when he was Second-in-Command. Then Nick died. Now it’s Newt’s job.
He isn’t nervous. He’s been showing around Greenies for a few months. He knows what he’s doing. He’ll make sure they don’t run off or hurt anyone, then he’ll give them the grand tour. Introduce him to the Keepers, show him around the buildings – ignoring the Blood House for now, as he’s found that people don’t calm down if they see a slaughterhouse – and then answer some of their questions. He isn’t nervous.
Except the Glade seems a bit off. Everyone is a bit subdued, although for the life of him he can’t figure out why. There’s no wind, and everything is just a bit more quiet. Maybe it’s in his head. But judging from the strange look Minho gave him before running into the Maze, it’s not just him. Something’s different.
Okay, so maybe he’s a bit nervous.
He’s currently weaving some bean stalks into a bean frame, listening to Archie’s inane chatter. Apparently him and Wyck got close to a beetle blade yesterday; nearly beat Minho’s record and grabbed it. Newt nods half-heartedly, quite on edge waiting for the tell-tale alarm of the Box.
Eventually, the blaring noise fills the Glade, breaking the silent reverie that had been present all day.
Archie’s off like a shot, scrambling to be as close to the front as possible. Newt strolls over. He can’t run that fast, and he doesn’t need to.
He gets to the Box and the Gladers split apart, letting him through to Alby. Gally and Dan pry open the lid, and Newt peers over the edge to get a look at the Greenie. He stops short.
What?
The Greenie – the kid – is curled up in the corner of the box, tears leaking down his face and staining his shirt. His hair’s all matted and tangled, covered in- is that blood?
What the shuck is a child doing here?
*
Thomas leans back in his chair, staring at the large screen in front of him. Chuck was just sent up into the Maze, and Thomas had just sent off the coordinates for every WICKED facility he knows about to Mary. To the Right Arm.
Technically, he’s a traitor.
He crosses his legs, and tenses ever so slightly when Teresa walks into the room. It’s fine. She doesn’t know what he’s done.
He’ll go into the Maze in a month, without the Swipe, and he’ll break all of those people – his friends – out of there.
He’ll never have to see WICKED again.
*
“What exactly is going on here?”
Minho and Newt are standing in the doorway of the Homestead, staring blankly at the scene in front of them. Gally is standing in the centre of the room, his shouting gone quiet at their arrival, and is glaring at Winston. Winston is standing on the table, glaring right back at him. Clint lies face down on the floor next to Frypan, who is sitting and staring ahead with an unimpressed look on his face. Zart and Tim are whispering to each other, glancing surreptitiously around. Louis and Billy seem to be playing something in the corner – probably another one of those games they keep inventing. Alby sits down next to Gally, sighing slightly.
“Gally is losing his klunk over-“ Winston begins, but then Gally shouts over him.
“I am not losing my klunk!”
Minho stares at him for a moment, then mutters, “Sure you aren’t.”
Alby stand up, and everyone quietens. “We’re discussing what to do with the new Greenie.”
Newt furrows his brow, and uses his crutch to limp over to a spare chair. “What do you mean?”
“He is incredibly small, and I’m fairly sure we can’t look after a child.” Louis says, flicking something at Billy and crowing, “I win!”
“Alright, calm down.”
“First, the Greenie’s eleven or something,” Newt waves his hand around, “it’s not like he can’t do things for himself. Second, just treat him less harshly than you treat each other.”
“But- But he’s so small!” Louis splutters. “I’ll break him!”
Minho snorts. “That’s putting a lot of faith in your strength.”
“I’m thinking of making him a Slopper,” Alby says, “good that, Tim?”
Tim, Keeper of the Sloppers, raises his head. “You ain’t gonna try him out with jobs?”
“The other jobs require a bit more strength than I think he has.”
“Try him with the Gardeners, the Cooks and the Med-jacks as well,” Tim mutters, “they’re fairly low intensity.”
Clint looks up at him, his eyes promising murder. “Oh yeah, it’s so low intensity dealing with you shanks whining all the time.”
“I’m just calling it as I see it.”
Alby steps in between them before they start up an impromptu brawl. “He’ll try out the Gardeners, the Cooks and the Sloppers. Good that?”
Mumbles of assent float around the room. Alby dismisses the meeting, and they all file out slowly. Newt, Alby and Minho are the only ones left in the room.
Minho sits in a chair, and kicks his feet up onto the table. He lets out a quiet snort, then locks eyes with Newt. They both burst into fits of laughter, hunching over with tears slipping down their cheeks. Alby raises his eyebrows, but has an amused grin on his face.
“And what are you two shanks laughing at?”
“The situation,” Minho wheezes, “never thought I’d see Gally get jacked over a kid showing up.”
Newt looks at him. “It’s a strange situation. I’m fairly sure Louis is jacked already.”
Alby picks up Newt’s crutch and thrusts it at him, saying, “We’re having a bonfire tonight. Get ready.”
*
A few short months ago, Newt had jumped off the Maze walls. Minho found him, and dragged him back to the Glade.
He only told Alby and Minho what happened.
Only moments after, Thomas’s heart had stopped. He nearly betrayed WICKED earlier.
He didn’t.
*
Newt breathes out heavily, leaning backwards to stretch out his back. Him and Zart were digging up the roots of a dead tree, for firewood to burn. The pain in his leg had gone down to a manageable level now, so he’d rested his crutch against another tree.
Whilst stretching, Newt looks around and sees Clint walking across the Glade, in his direction. He hasn’t seemed to notice him yet, but Newt isn’t taking any chances. He ducks behind the trunk of the dead tree, thoroughly startling Zart. He freezes, holding his machete inches from his face.
“Newt!” He hisses. “The shuck are you doing? I could’ve cut your face open!”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” he hisses right back, “just pretend that I’m not here.”
Zart stares at him incredulously for a moment. “You want me to swing a machete at a dead tree that you’re hiding behind?”
Newt nods seriously. There is a tense silence for a few moments, before Zart shakes his head and goes around to the other side of the tree. The thuds of the roots being cut up start again.
“Zart!” Clint calls. “You seen Newt anywhere?”
There is a pause, one where Newt is sure that Zart’s going to rat him out. But he doesn’t.
“Nah. You checked the Homestead?”
“Just about to. If you see him, tell him that he better not be working.”
“Why’s that?”
“Messed up his leg getting the Greenie outta the Box. I gave him a crutch, but I doubt he’s using it.”
Newt can hear Clint’s footsteps slowly fading away. When he thinks it’s safe, he peeks around the edge of the tree, only to come face to face with Zart.
He raises an eyebrow. “Were you gonna mention that you shucked up your leg?”
Newt shrugs sheepishly, not meeting Zart’s eyes.
Needless to say, a minute later he’s hobbling away to the Homestead on his crutches.
*
Chuck looks around the Glade, quietly freaking out.
He doesn’t know where he is, what’s going on, who he is – quite the cause for panic. But everyone around here seems relatively calm.
It’s strange.
He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the snapping of twigs. He turns his head to see someone – Wyck – walking towards him.
“First day freak out finally hit?” He asks, rubbing his arm. Chuck nods.
“Well, I’ll give you the low down.”
*
Teresa stares at the back of Thomas’ head, silently contemplating something.
He’s been acting slightly off all day – something is clearly eating at him. She feels a small sting at the fact that he hadn’t come to her for help, but no matter.
She thinks she knows what it is.
(For the world, Ava Paige had whispered into her ear, help us save the world.)
For the world, Teresa thinks, and makes her way to Janson’s office.
*
The next week is a bit of a disaster.
Newt, the unofficial ‘Greenie Whisperer’, was tasked to follow Chuck while he tried out his jobs. Newt agreed, and he slightly regrets it now. It truly was a mess.
First, Chuck tried working under Frypan. The Keeper of the Cooks is not known for accepting people into his kitchen straight away, but he did allow him in - albeit tentatively.
That was a mistake.
Within two hours, Frypan was hurriedly ushering him out, pushing him into Newt before sprinting back into the Homestead.
Newt raised an eyebrow. “Onto the next one.”
He fared better with the Gardeners, but not by a great deal. Nothing broke, but Chuck just couldn’t seem to weave the beans right. Newt had reassured him that it was no big deal, but he still looked downtrodden.
So Chuck became a Slopper.
For the past two days, he had been working with Tim, and was now loudly complaining about it in Newt’s ear as he plants some potatoes.
“Someone did a massive klunk in the toilets again,” he whines, “and it stunk! So of course I had to clean it.”
“Of course.”
“I’m fairly sure it was Wyck.”
“Hmm?”
“Yup, so I’ve got a cunning plan to get him back.”
Newt gives him a look. “You know he doesn’t do that to spite you. It’s not really his fault.”
Chuck sighs, flopping down onto the ground. “I think he has it out for me.”
“Whatever. As long as this plan of yours doesn’t involve death or pain, go ahead.”
He grins conspiratorially, before taking off towards the toilets. Newt really hopes he hasn’t just made a mistake.
*
He made a mistake.
Wyck is screaming, running as fast as he can away from the toilets. He barrels straight into Cai, and they both go down like bowling pins. Almost instantly, Newt’s hand reaches behind his back to grasp the handle of his machete. If he strains his eyes, he can faintly make out a Chuck-shaped silhouette by the toilets, cracking up with laughter. He sighs resignedly, and drops his hand back to his side.
“What’s wrong Wyck?” Newt calls, walking over. Wyck is lying on his back on the ground, panting heavily. Cai is next to him, rubbing his head muttering under his breath.
“I just- I-” he pants, shaking ever so slightly, “I saw a face above my head in the toilets and it suddenly started shrieking.”
Newt turns to Chuck, who was walking in the opposite direction, looking like the picture of innocence. “Hey Greenie!” He shouts. “What’d you frighten Wyck for?”
“For taking stinky klunks!” Chuck calls back.
Alby suddenly appeared, looking between the four of them. “I heard most of that. You can’t do that, you know.”
Chuck looks sheepishly at the ground. “Yeah, okay. Sorry Alby.”
“Oh, no,” Alby says stoically, eyes betraying his mirth, “do that all you want. If the Gladers hate you or you get thrown in the Slammer, that’s on you. I meant Wyck. You need to scream a bit quieter.”
Wyck stares at him for a moment, before standing and walking away. Newt could faintly hear him muttering, “You try seeing a face appear above your head,” under his breath.
He turns to Chuck, who looks the epitome of guilt.
“I can’t promise I won’t do it again,” Chuck starts, wringing his hands together, “but I can promise to not do it to loud people.”
Newt sighs. “That’s all I ask.”
*
The letter shakes in her hand as she races up the hill. This is amazing.
Mary rips open the entrance to Vince’s tent, and he looks up at her in surprise. “Mary!” He exclaims. “What’s wrong?”
Mary laughs – it’s a joyful, incredulous thing. “I have the coordinates to every WICKED base! We can save the Immunes!”
Vince stares at her for a moment, before a large grin breaks out across his face.
*
Thomas walks down the blinding white corridors, shoulders tense, eyes darting in every direction.
He’s getting the feeling he’s being watched.
But when he turns behind him, no one is there.
*
(Silently, Janson paces back to the observation chambers. Thomas hasn’t slipped up yet, but he will soon.)
*
“Alright Greenie, we gotta have a little talk.”
It’s the aftermath of another prank - somehow, a spade followed Zart around the Gardens all day until he got so paranoid he tried to hit it. Clint’s stitching up his hand now.
Chuck looks up at him. “Is Zart gonna be okay? I didn’t mean for him to get hurt, I just wanted to have fun!”
Newt smiles slightly, patting him on the shoulder. “Zart’ll be fine. Takes more than a spade to take him down.”
Chuck nods, staring at the Doors. Newt sits next to him.
“Pranks are all well and good,” he starts, “but don’t interfere when people are working. This whole system, it runs on trust. Gladers won’t be able to trust you near them when working if they’re terrified that something’s gonna happen. Good that?”
He hesitates, then replies, “Good that.”
*
Harriet polishes the muzzle of her gun, glancing over to Sonya every couple of moments.
The Right Arm liberated them from their icy tundra only days before, but Harriet still doesn’t fully trust them. It’s a side effect of being tortured for years.
(Harriet doesn’t know that. She thinks Vince is acting suspiciously.)
Once, when she looks over, Sonya is looking right back, her eyes crinkled at the corners in a wide smile. She hurriedly looks away.
*
Normally, he’d be doing rounds with Alby, checking that everyone was in their hammocks or sleeping bags. Today, however, was spent doing some kind of physical therapy thing with Jeff. Every once in a while, he’d do that, just to ensure that his leg doesn't fail him at random. It was exhausting and taxing on him and Jeff - he had to actually do the exercises, and Jeff had to put up with his snark.
So Alby told him that he had a free day once he was finished. Newt turned in to bed early.
He is sleeping in his bed in the Homestead - on the ground floor, obviously - when he’s woken up by a blood-curdling scream. Within seconds, he’s up, running as fast as he can out the door, machete in hand.
He turns up where he heard the scream come from, and stops. He blinks. He rubs at his eyes, and blinks again.
Archie is a lump on the ground, covered in… something. A quick scan around tells Newt that there’s no danger, so he lowers his machete from where it was raised above his head.
“Newt,” Archie breathes, “my dignity is in shreds.”
Newt takes a breath, closing his eyes. He silently counts to ten, then looks back at Archie. “What happened?” He asks tiredly.
“I sat down in my hammock, and suddenly this stinky klunk dropped from nowhere.”
Now that he is closer, Newt can smell something absolutely foul. He wrinkles his nose and covers it with his hand, gasping out to Archie, “Get to the buggin’ showers.”
He hurries to comply.
Clearly, Chuck had kept to his word.
*
Ava can’t look away from her window.
Outside, in the Last City, she can just about make out tiny specks of people, going about their lives as if there is something worth living for.
There isn’t. Not until she finds the cure.
These people will all be gone or Gone in a short while, if the Flare’s mutations carry on at the same speed.
She takes a deep breath, and gives the order.
*
(The walls to the Last City are closed for good. No one will be getting out or in.)
*
They are preparing for the bonfire. The new Greenie arrives tomorrow, so Newt is overseeing preparations. Mostly, that consists of building the Statue.
“What the shuck even is that thing?”
Minho walks over to him. It’s his day off from running - Alby had insisted. He needed a break anyway. Newt knows how hopeless things seem when you do the same pattern over and over again.
“What’re you talking about?”
He gestures to the Statue. It’s still being made by the Builders, cow skull and all.
Newt laughs slightly. “That’s the Statue.”
“I know that. Why do we have it?”
“Well, back when it was just us lot, we heard the Grievers in the Maze all the time.” Newt begins. “Nick decided that we should burn one every bonfire.”
“A Griever?”
“No, ya daft shank, a representative. So Dmitri designed one, and we got this.”
They stand in comfortable silence for a while. Newt closes his eyes, and lets the sounds of the Glade wash around him. The rush of the wind, the creaking wood of the Homestead, the braying of the goats, the inane chatter - he revels in it. Things had been a tad hectic recently, so it was nice to get some quiet.
He startles violently when a hand rests on his shoulder. Instinctively, he grasps for the handle of his machete, before realising it was just Minho. He sighs.
“You good?” He asks, a worried look on his face. Newt nods, relaxing marginally.
“You just looked like you needed help.”
Newt gives him a look. “I haven’t needed help for a while now.”
“And? Doesn’t mean you don’t need it now.”
He shrugs, turning back to the Statue. He hears Minho take in a breath and rolls his eyes.
“Trust me, Minho, you’d be the first to know if I needed help.”
Minho stares at him a while longer, then nods resolutely. “Good that. Anyway, want to try catch a beetle blade with me?”
“You do know that I have a job to do, right?”
Minho stares at him, eyebrows raised. Newt stares right back. This goes on for at least a minute. Their impromptu staring contest is cut off by a loud thud. He turns, and sees that the cow skull had fallen to the floor, and now had a thin crack running along its side. Dan chases after it, yelling at Hank for letting it drop. Hank is staring at the ground, a blank look on his face. He sits down and puts his head in his hands. Gally storms over to them, yelling about poor coordination and I should just build the shuck thing myself!
Newt considers this for a moment, then turns back to Minho. “Beetle blades, you say?”
*
Thomas is sitting in a stiff armchair, sleeves pulled back for his blood test.
He’s going into the Maze tomorrow. Without the Swipe.
He’s been waiting for about five minutes, when Teresa and another doctor walk in. She sits down in front of him, and takes his hand. She smiles, but he can see tears threatening to fall.
“All ready?” She whispers. He nods.
“I’ll see you in another life.”
Confused, Thomas opens his mouth to ask her what she means. That’s when everything goes dark.
*
(A few moments after, tears streak down her face. She holds his hand until she’s pulled away. She stares blankly at the floor, while Janson mutters, you did the right thing.)
*
The Box comes back up today.
This is no strange feat. It comes up once a month, always with new supplies and a Greenie. Wyck and Louis take inventory, give the lists to Newt, and then run off to their respective jobs. Zart and the other Track-hoes normally take out the supplies – they don’t often have a lot of work to do daily.
Newt is tasked with showing around the Greenie.
Or rather, he would be tasked with showing around the Greenie, if he hadn’t immediately bolted for the Maze Doors like a proper shank.
Well, Newt sighs internally, let’s get this over with.