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Crank, crank, crank, I'm a crank, was all he thought as they leaped out of the window of WICKED. They landed in the water, a huge contrast to the hard ground they were running on for the past 16, 17 years of their lives, half of it he couldn't even remember. Was he 16, 17, 18, or older? He didn't remember, he didn't have the time to. But what's the point of it now? He was dying, drowning into the depths of the Flare, so much so he could feel his last memories of Thomas and his friends fading away.
Newt was never really good at swimming. In fact, they did not have a pool in the Glade. How did he remember what a pool was? He couldn't even remember who he was a few years ago. And yet now he could remember what a pool was? He shook off that thought and decided to focus on the main goal now, to get everyone safe. He looked up at Jansen, his middle finger pointed out, like after Thomas had slid through the doors of the WICKED headquarters in the scorch. It was a comical sight. But now his mind has plunged deep into this bloody Flare. His temper was getting worse, his memories were all in pieces. It would’ve been better for everyone else and himself if he just dies…
Now right in front of him stood a great opportunity. He could just sink into the water and go peacefully. His friends would understand, they knew he couldn’t swim, much less with a broken leg.
Oh, how that limp had bothered him for years.
He’d be free from it, free from all his problems.
But turns out with Minho and Thomas around, drowning himself was impossible. They grabbed him by the arm and slung him over their shoulders, and pulled him out of the water. He let out a few deep breaths, spitting out water in the process.
All of a sudden, his head hurts, and coming in sharp waves were his memories. The core memory was of a girl, blonde hair just like his, whom he called Lizzie. Lizzie? Was that a friend or a lover? A sister? The picture of her in his mind became clearer. She looked exactly like a person he knew not too long ago. The same hair, the same eyes. His memories were so tattered it was hard to remember if he concentrated, his mind focused on trying to identify the girl that looked like Lizzie. After much hard thinking, he finally remembered: Sonya, that girl from Group B.
For a moment, he was stunned. That brave and strong girl? It turns out she was once the girl he protected so dearly, the younger sister he was willing to fight for. Then he had another flash of memories. He saw everything. From his parents’ death to life before the maze, he saw everything. He had so much to remember, he thought. So much to clarify, he couldn’t die yet. Just not yet.
“Newt? Newt, are you alright?” A voice echoed in his head, somewhat louder than before. Minho, it’s been so long since he heard his voice.
Slowly, he released his hands which were clasped tightly on his ears, and opened his eyes, which he had squeezed shut. He could feel himself spiraling into madness, just like the veins on his neck, his black stained blood. But he had to hold on. It wasn’t a want; it was a need. He had to survive, to find the answers to all the questions he had.
Thomas helped him up, and before long he fell, dragging them both with him. He couldn’t hold on much longer. Newt yelled out in frustration, the Flare slowly consuming him. He coughed, black blood spitting out of his mouth.
Minho held him, grounding him slightly. With the love of his friends, it felt that it could just help him get through, albeit just a little bit. “Has he always been like this?” Minho asked, most probably to Thomas. He could not see or hear clearly. His vision was blurring and his hearing was deteriorating. All he could hear clearly was his inner thoughts, each spiraling into the darkness.
Suddenly, through his foggy vision, he saw Minho taking a vial from his pocket. A glimmer of hope appeared, and it’s right there before his eyes.
“This will buy you some time, we’ve heard an announcement from Teresa. Thomas’ blood is the cure. We’re going to get it now. Hold on, okay?” Minho assured, injecting the vial of liquid into him. Immediately, he felt slightly better, though it was not fully gone. The Flare was slowly eating at his brain, he felt it slowing down, buying him some time before he went over the edge.
Minho stayed with Newt while Thomas ran up to Teresa. He quickly got the cure. Fifteen minutes later, he came down, Minho still with Newt, helping him clean off the blood around his mouth. It was an improvement, as compared to a few minutes ago.
Immediately, Thomas jabbed the cure into Newt’s arm, where the infection had started. After what seemed like ten minutes, the infection stopped spreading, and his blood turned back into a crimson red. The cure had worked.
He felt much better, his brain no longer overwhelmed by madness. Though his body was still weak, he was no longer feeling Flare-consumed. Now all they had to do was get back to the berg.
With a small grunt, he stood up wobbly, Minho supporting his body on the left and Thomas on the right.
Now with the Flare out of mind, the memories became clearer, most prominent were the ones about Sonya. He remembered life before the Flare and everything he wondered how Sonya was, at the Safe Haven, and was excited to finally join her there. He also wondered if Sonya, or Lizzie, remembered him as her brother.
Some yelling voices jolted out of his thoughts. There was a bigger problem at hand. The berg was in the distance, but at the front, WICKED was failing. The protected city was falling, cranks were running wild. The three of them did not have to worry about infection, for Thomas’ blood helped him to gain immunity. If only they had known that earlier. But now there was no time to lose, there were only three options: Run to the berg, get mauled by cranks, or get crushed by burning debris.
At the count of three, they ran across. Suddenly he felt a push along his back, sending him rolling onto the ground, a few yards away from the berg. Brenda and Jorge pulled him and Minho up. He looked back, seeing Thomas’ legs stuck under the debris. A bunch of cranks ran towards him, and with his last breath he screamed out, “You have to go, now!” Newt did not have time to grieve, he picked up the pistol from the table, and shot at Thomas, aiming right at his brain. Everyone stood, shocked at his actions. As they flew up in the berg, Newt stood stunned. He dropped the gun and fell to the floor, face in his palms. He killed Thomas.
He sobbed, and Minho came over. “Hey, it was a mercy kill. You saved him from more suffering.”
Inside, Minho’s heart was also aching for the loss of their best friend.
“I killed him. He saved me. I was supposed to die. If it were just the two of you, he wouldn’t have had to die. It didn’t have to end like this,” he sobbed, his head still buried in his hands.
“He would’ve wanted it for you, for you to live a happy life with the others. He saved you twice, to give you an opportunity to see the world without the Flare. Now we have to live on, and keep the memories of Thomas. It’s the only way to make his sacrifice worth it.”
He looked up at Minho, who was crouched beside him. “I guess so. We’ll live to tell the story.” He wiped off a tear with the back of his palm and stood up, joining the rest.
But after such a long time on the run, and the Flare, he was tired and weak. He was free of the Flare, but his body hadn’t fully recovered yet. He collapsed, and the last thing he saw was Minho and Brenda’s worried expressions.
***
After so many hours of sleep, he woke up in a hut, a bandage around his head. Minho was by his bed. “You’re catching up, huh? We removed something from your head, you were sedated heavily, so you probably don’t remember. Minho stood, helping him get out of bed.”
He left the hut, and it was a scenery. They were on a new deserted island, filled with greenery. More importantly, it was a world without the Flare, no longer the barren land they once stood on.
He walked out to the square, and that’s when he saw Sonya, no, Lizzie running to him. She hugged him tightly, speaking indistinctly. He was too lost in thought of reunion, to the point he did not hear what she said.
“Hey, Lizzie!” He said, returning the embrace. She paused, her face a look of surprise, but after that tears glimmered in her eyes, and she smiled, “Big brother, you remembered.”
He smiled, his heart swelling with affection. It was after so long, so long a time he persevered, that he could feel this love again.
That day, they sat at the campfire, with Vince at the front making a speech. He wasn’t paying much attention, for most of his thoughts drifted to Thomas. Minho was beside him, and they sat in silence, to mourn and remember those they lost.
Right after that, Minho passed him a tube of blue liquid, and it was taped with a note. The blue liquid looked all too familiar, it was another dose of the cure. He looked at the note, the words scribbled out messily:
“Take this dose 3 months later for best results. I’m glad you’re alive. Thank you for being my friend.”
~Thomas
He looked at the note, short and sweet. His eyes moistened with tears. He made it a point to not grieve for too long, for it would make him sadder.
The next few months went by quickly, as they were busy rebuilding civilization. Just like in the Glade, he was in charge of the gardening and planting of crops.
They built houses and set up places for their different needs.
He took the medicine 3 months later. He never thought he’d see the world at peace again, but now he did, and he was definitely glad to.
✰THE END✰