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There’s a certain cold that coats the Glade right before something’s about to go wrong. Gally felt it when the first kid got stuck in the maze. He felt it with the first death. The first Griever sting. He feels it now, and it’s growing.
The fucked-up part of it all is that he can’t work out who it’s growing from.
It starts small, this feeling. Like the brush of a feather against skin. Just once, light enough to make you wonder if it even happened at all.
Then it grows. Gally’s hammering an extra nail into that loose slat in the tree hut when a cold chill runs down the back of his neck, making him shudder.
Something’s wrong.
And, just like that, he can’t ignore the feeling anymore. After the chill, the back of his neck never warms up again. It’s a constant reminder, circling around and around in his head, interrupting every train of thought with a jolt of fear.
Something’s really wrong.
It sits in his periphery, enough for him to be aware of it, but not close enough for him to see it. It bugs him for weeks, that itch he can’t scratch. It gets to the point where the others ask him what’s wrong, as he develops the habit of scanning the Glade every day, waiting for something to happen.
Something isn’t okay.
It gets more specific. The sensation is stronger in some places than others, at different times of the day, and around different people. It’s then that he starts to get the feeling that it's moving, attached to someone. It’s not just that something is wrong; it’s that someone is already under threat.
Someone isn’t okay.
Finally, the day comes when the fear turns into realisation.
It’s late afternoon when Gally has his ‘ eureka!’ moment. The runners emerge from the map room, laughing at something Minho’s said, heading towards the kitchen with more energy than Gally thought would be possible after a long day out in the maze. It’s not obvious at first, looking at the group, but Gally’s still searching for the source of that chill, and it grows as he watches them walk.
As everyone else laughs, Newt barely cracks a smile.
And as they get closer, the absent look in his eyes has Gally’s heart pounding and ice coursing through his veins, colder than he’s ever felt it before.
Something’s really wrong.
It’s Newt. It’s coming from Newt.
Newt isn’t okay.
And, because Gally’s not exactly the kind of person to wait and let things play out, he acts on it.
“Hey, Newt!” His legs are carrying him across the Glade before he can even register what’s going on. “Newt!”
The group slows their pace as Newt lags behind, sending Gally a quizzical frown as if to ask if he’s somehow calling the wrong name. It might be the most expressive Gally’s seen him in weeks. “Yeah, Gally?”
“I need to talk to you.”
And Newt doesn’t get a chance to respond before Gally’s grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him away from the group. He feels so stupid. He should’ve noticed sooner. Newt’s quiet, yes, but he used to have a bounce in his step and a warmth in his presence that made everyone feel a little safer. Now, Gally doesn’t see or feel any of that. It’s like his friend has hollowed out.
Maybe it’s the maze. Gally used to hate being out there, running his route and exhausting himself just to find nothing, every single day. That place was a shithole. Maybe Newt was just feeling worn down by it all.
Or maybe there was something else he didn’t know about. Had Newt fought with someone? Was there something going on between the runners that Gally didn’t know about?
“Where are you taking me?”
Newt’s slightly concerned voice interrupts Gally’s train of thought and they come to a stop at the edge of the forest. His question is a good one, because Gally had no idea where they’d both been walking, too caught up in his own thoughts to plan it out.
“Uh, here’s good,” he shrugs.
Newt folds his arms across his chest and waits, with a quick glance back towards the kitchen, making sure his friends have carried on to have their dinner. When his gaze returns to Gally, the cold chill is more intense than ever.
“Something’s wrong,” Gally announces.
“Okay…?” Newt draws out the word. “What’s wrong then?”
An exasperated sigh escapes Gally’s lips as he struggles to word this. It seemed a lot easier in his head.
“You, Newt. There’s something going on, isn’t there? You used to be so much more... something’s changed and I don’t know what it is.”
Newt cocks an eyebrow. “So you pulled me aside to tell me something’s different but you don’t know what that something is?”
“Uh… kinda?” Gally wishes he was better with words. This is important and he’s blowing it.
“Right.” Newt turns away. “Let me know when you have something important to say. If you’ll excuse me, my supper’s getting cold.”
As he starts to walk away, Gally grabs his wrist again and is met with an icy glare.
“Gally, let go of me.”
“No. Newt, you don’t have to hide anything. I’m not gonna judge you. What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on , you shank. Did you take crazy pills today? Nothing’s changed.” Newt tries to wriggle his hand free to no avail. “Can I go now?” he shrugs, looking defeated.
So Gally tries another tactic.
“Did you find anything out there today?”
Newt’s immediate reaction is to frown. “No, Gally. Why would we have found anything? Like I said, nothing’s changed.” In the same sentence, he stops fighting against Gally’s grip. “You know I hate that question,” he mutters, staring down at the ground.
There’s something about that last part-- the way Newt says it, like he’s been thinking about it a lot. His tone causes a strange pain in Gally’s chest. The image crosses his mind of his heart splitting in two. He knows what Newt means. He knows it too well. The only difference is that he got out before it got this bad. That tone is one of hopelessness.
“Nothing’s changed?” Gally repeats.
Newt shakes his head, still staring at the ground, kicking a pebble around with his shoe.
“Aren’t you getting tired of going out there and nothing changing?”
Newt’s head snaps up. “Are you saying that I’m bad at my job? I’m doing the best I can, Gally.”
“What? No. I’m saying it’s a lot of pressure, Newt. And when you come back and nothing’s different… doesn’t that weigh on you?”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
Gally’s hit a nerve. He knows he has. Something in Newt has switched and it confirms Gally’s worst fears; he’s losing his friend.
“Newt, you don’t have to pretend everything’s okay when it’s not.”
“Gally, you’re overstepping.”
“You’re not okay and I want to help you.”
“I’m fine . Let go of me.” But Newt’s efforts to pull away aren’t as strong. He’s not trying to escape.
“How long are you going to go on like this for? When do you step back and admit this is too much?”
“Gally, I mean it. Leave me alone.”
“Newt, we can’t lose you!”
The drop in Newt’s expression is instant. Gally watches as his mouth opens and closes, struggling to come up with a reply. He lets go of Newt’s wrist which slowly lowers to his side.
“You and I both know that you’re going to keep going until this kills you. You’re losing hope. You don’t care. You’re not paying as much attention to what’s around you and that’ll get you killed, Newt.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?”
Oh.
Suddenly it’s Gally’s turn to be rendered speechless. Did Newt mean what Gally thinks he does? Would he rather die than carry on here?
“Think about it, Gally. We got here, stripped of our identities. We all have families, somewhere out there, who we probably knew and loved and now we can’t even remember who they were. We could walk by them and have no recollection of our lives together. Hell, we might even have brothers in here and we’d never know. Don’t you feel empty? Doesn’t it make you feel pointless? Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t feel like I’m cut out for this anymore. Not if we’re never getting out of this place. I’m running out of options.”
For a moment, Gally just stands there, trying to register it all. When he pulled Newt aside, he didn’t expect it to be this bad. He didn’t expect to have to convince the shank to stay alive . But, here Newt stands in front of him, eyes glistening with tears threatening to spill, staring him in the face as if Gally’s the one who can change it all for him.
So, Gally changes something, and pulls Newt into a tight, bone-crushing hug.
“What are you-”
“We care about you, Newt. All of us. And losing you is not something I’m prepared to do.”
A moment passes and Gally is halfway to believing that Newt’s not going to reply, when a soft sound leaves his lips.
“Oh.”
“I think you should quit. You and I both know this isn’t good for you.”
“None of this is good for me. I shouldn’t be here. Running the maze doesn’t make a spot of difference.”
Gally pulls out of the hug so he can look Newt in the eyes when he speaks. “We will find a way out, Newt. I know it. But you can’t be one of the shanks with all that pressure on their shoulders. It’s not working for you. You need to quit.”
“I can’t quit. Minho’ll have my head. You know it.”
Over by the kitchen, Gally can see Minho and the other runners enjoying their food, paying no attention to the conversation happening across the Glade.
“Minho cares about you. He’d make you quit himself if he knew this is how you felt.”
Newt just shrugs, staring down at the ground again. “I’m not much use in the Glade either. What’s the point, Gally?”
“The point, Newt, is that we’re all in this together. We have to lift each other up when we’re low and you… you’re the best at doing that, but only when you’re looking after yourself first. Do you know how many pep talks you’ve given since you got here?”
Newt shrugs again. “A couple, maybe. I’m not sure they helped.”
“Oh yeah? You know it’s what you’re known for, right? So many of these shanks have been cheered up by you. It’s a gift, Newt.” Gally shakes his head. “Wait, that sounded sappy. Forget I said that. My point is, you’re good at it. We need more people like you in this place, not less.”
Seemingly unable to remove his gaze from the ground now, Newt nods. “Okay,” he sighs, rubbing his chin absentmindedly. “You might be right about one thing. I can’t keep going out there. Not if I’m going to stay in one piece. So what do I do?”
Relief floods through Gally’s veins at the confession. Newt’s going to quit. He’s not going to put himself at risk. He’s going to get better.
“You tell Minho you’re quitting and we find you a job in the Glade. Simple as that.”
Gally swears he sees a hint of a smile on Newt’s face as he nods again. Things are going to get better.
And, for a while, they do. Newt talks to Minho about quitting. At first, Minho’s frustrated; Newt’s one of the best runners and losing him will affect their productivity, but once they find a replacement in Ben, he relaxes a little more.
Newt goes through the motions of trialing jobs again, like a greenie. He spends a day with each of the keepers and, on the day he spends with the builders, Gally notices that he’s making an effort. Newt’s really trying to make the most of this change, now that he’s got the opportunity to do something else.
It’s not until the keepers meeting that things turn sour again.
Gally knows that he’s been keeping an eye on Newt, ever since their conversation. He’s been treating him differently to the others. Some might even say he’s playing favourites, but it’s all for good reason. He cares about Newt.
So, when the keepers meeting turns into a debate, Gally gets fired up.
“I just don’t understand why he quit. Being a runner is the most important job in this place and now Minho has to train Ben, who’s never going to do half as good a job as Newt did.”
Gally has never got on well with the baggers. He finds them weird and their opinions have always been something he’s ignored, so when Alex speaks, he does his best to ignore it.
Getting into fights is something that Gally’s managed to avoid since being here. He’s had small disagreements every now and then, but he usually gets out of it by taking some time out and letting himself cool down. He’s not one to escalate a drama.
“It doesn’t matter why he left,” Minho states, surprisingly calm about it. “I can train Ben in no time and, no, maybe he won’t be as fast but he’ll get the job done because I’ll be the one teaching him. Got it?”
“Do we all just get to change jobs whenever we like?” Winston presses. “Can I just quit and work in the kitchen? Is it that easy now?”
“Being a runner is a little harder than being a slicer, Winston. You wouldn’t understand.”
Gally wants to shake Minho’s hand. Usually his arrogance pisses Gally off, but today it’s welcomed.
“It can’t be that much harder. You don’t have to kill anything either. The worst you shanks get is tired.”
“You have no idea how hard we work, Winston.”
“So Newt quit because he’s lazy?” Alex pipes up.
Slinthead. Who does he think he is, commenting on what it’s like to be a runner and then having the nerve to call one of their best lazy?
Suddenly, something switches and Gally can’t hold his tongue any longer.
“He’s not lazy and the next person to imply that he is will get hit.”
He’s met with several looks of surprise as his outburst is out-of-character for him. A moment passes and Alex is about to speak again when Alby finally steps in. “Nobody’s hitting anyone. Can we please just decide where he’s working?”
“He did well with me,” says Zart. “I’d love to have him on board.”
“Sure, and then after he’s spent a week picking flowers, he can sit in the kitchen and lick the bowl when everyone else is finished cooking.”
Gally’s fist is hitting the side of Alex’s face before he even knows he’s moving. Alex stumbles back against his chair, knocking it over in the process, tripping over his own legs and falling to the floor in a heap.
A huff of a laugh comes from Minho’s direction.
“Gally, that’s it! Get out!” Alby bellows at him.
But Gally’s far from finished. “You’re going to take his side over this?! He’s calling Newt lazy!”
“Alex didn’t hit anyone!”
“My nose is bleeding.”
“Is it too lazy to hold the blood in?”
“Gally, enough! You’re spending tonight in the pit! Get out of here!”
So Gally turns and stomps toward the door, making as much of a deal out of this as he can. He opens the door and at the last second, he stops himself, putting Newt first in his mind again.
“I vote for the gardens,” he says. As he walks out, the door slams shut behind him.
Twenty minutes later, Newt finds him sitting on a log at the edge of the forest, staring gloomily into space.
“What was all that about then? Minho tells me you’re the one responsible for Alex’s nose.”
When Gally looks up, Newt has his arms folded across his chest, staring down at him like a disapproving parent. It’s a look he wears well.
“He was being a slinthead.”
“That’s no reason to hit him, Gally.”
“He called you lazy.”
Much to Gally’s surprise, Newt laughs. “So?”
Gally frowns. “What do you mean ‘so’ ? He’s calling you lazy for not wanting to be a runner! That shank’s never run a day in his life, so-”
“- so his opinion doesn’t matter.”
Gally shuts his mouth. He’s letting this get to him.
“Gally, I don’t care what they say about me. All I care is that I’m getting out of it. This last week has been one of the best I’ve had in a long time. I’ve been able to wake up every morning and want to spend a day working. I haven’t dreaded a thing. So, why are you getting so worked up about a silly little comment from someone who doesn’t know any better?”
And, for the second time this afternoon, something in Gally snaps. The words are falling out of his mouth before he can stop to consider them.
"I don't know. And I don't know because I've never done this before. I've never been the person to come running or to throw punches at a moment's notice. I've never been that person. I shied away from all the fights. But then it's you . It's different with you, Newt. I swear, I never want to see you hurt."
The air seems to compress around them and for a second Gally considers getting up and running away. He knows he’s said too much. He’s confessed to way too much. What the hell is Newt going to think of him now?
When he works up the courage to look at him, Newt’s staring back. He opens and shuts his mouth twice, trying to find the right words to say.
“I’m not hurt, Gally.”
“Newt, I didn’t mean-”
“No, just listen. I’m not hurt, right? And the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve realised why. I’m doing better because of you. I’m not hurt because you stopped it from happening. It sounds bloody dramatic but that day you pulled me aside? I think you saved me.”
It’s not true. Gally’s just a good friend. It’s not as extreme as that. Newt would’ve quit on his own eventually.
“Newt, I didn’t-”
“Gally, I don’t say this lightly. I really think you saved my life.”
The look in Newt’s eyes is terrifying. He’s telling the truth. He believes it.
Before he can respond, Newt pulls him into a hug, mirroring Gally’s own actions from a week ago. Instinctively, Gally hugs back, tighter than he expects to, as if Newt might vanish before his eyes if he doesn’t hold on.
“Thank you, Gally,” Newt smiles into his shoulder. “Thank you.”
The cold that once coated the Glade seems to defrost in that moment. There’s a warm, comforting feeling that fills the air in its place, making Gally feel at home again. It’s all he’s wanted since that feeling first began. He’s done what he needed to do.
“Welcome back to the Glade, Newt.”