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Thomas’s heart thumped against his chest as he scrambled forwards, clutching Alby’s arm tightly. Minho had an exhausted expression but continued pushing forth. The end was near, another corridor, one more turn, then a final passage until they made it to the Glade. O would the others be waiting for them or had they lost hope entirely? Thomas stumbled and Minho hissed, “Keep moving shank!” Thomas obliged and hauled Alby across the ground.
They turned the corner and instantly, the bold and colourful doorway to the Glade shone beautifully and Thomas felt a rush of adrenaline hit him. He hurried quicker and Minho matched his pace, their grunts of exhaustion echoing against the tall walls that surrounded them. It wasn’t long now, safety was in sight. A voice rung out and Thomas sighed with relief, “Thomas!” Chuck was stood at the maze door in shock.
A few other boys nearby all turned and rushed closer,
“Minho?”
“They’ve got Alby!”
“C’mon ya slintheads.”
“Is the Greenie alive?”
“Speed up Minho!”
But one voice in particular shook Thomas to the core.
“Hurry up Minho! And get your legs working Tommy! Let’s go!”
Newt shoved his was to the front of the group and stood beside Chuck. His face was contorted into what looked like pride, relief and anger. Thomas already knew the lecture him and Minho were going to receive after they got patched up. Thirty yards, twenty yards, ten yards. Newt couldn’t stand still any longer and ran forwards, his limp barely slowing him down, and grabbed Thomas’s arm, heaving Thomas towards the exit.
Thomas felt the change from rough concrete to soft grass and almost cried with relief. He had done it. He had saved Minho and Alby. He had survived a night in the maze. Once they were completely out of the maze, Clint and Jeff immediately sped over and carried Alby away, Newt yelling at them to be gentle with him. Thomas doubled over and Minho sunk to the ground beside him. “What happened?” Zart stared down at them. Chuck jumped up and down on the spot excitedly, “Did you see a griever?”
“Oh yeah I saw one.” Thomas grumbled, gasping for air. Minho glared at him before standing up, stretching, “No,” he stared around at everyone in the group surrounding them, “he didn’t just see one, he killed one.” Silence deafened the Glade and Newt paled, staring down at Thomas. The boy, who was the newest Greenie, had just done the impossible. “Right, everyone back to work. These shanks need to get sorted out. Now.” Newt waved everyone off which was met by a few groans and complaints but no one disobeyed him. Minho finished stretching and slowly walked towards the Homestead, gradually picking up speed.
Newt watched him go before looking back at Thomas who was still crouched in the grass. “You gonna get up anytime soon Tommy?” Newt scoffed. He was in awe of the boy, but pissed at the same time. He would never admit it out loud, but he had spent the last goodness knows how many hours fretting and crying to himself about what had happened. Alby, his best friend and the leader of the Glade was gone, leaving Newt in charge. Minho, his best friend and a great comedic relief, was gone, leaving Newt alone. And Thomas. Tommy. The newbie, the one Newt was supposed to be protecting, he too had vanished into the vastness of the maze.
But here he was. Battered and bruised but still alive, somehow. Newt had no idea what he had been through during the night but it was obviously terrible. He was barely able to breathe normally, he had gashes, cuts and bruises all over his body, and he was shaking. “Don’t think I can..” Thomas shuddered as he attempted to stand. The adrenaline that had powered him just seconds earlier had faded away, leaving a loud buzzing noise clouding up his mind and ears. “Tommy?” Newt’s voice sounded underwater and Thomas had to fight the urge to throw up.
One step forwards, two steps forwards, Thomas felt dizzy. A halo of blue limited his eyesight and it felt like his body was on fire. Staggering and wheezing desperately, Thomas felt his knees buckle. Before his eyes closed and his head shut down, Thomas’s last thoughts were of Newt. Time seemed to slow down and lose all meaning as Thomas plummeted towards the ground. Newt froze as he watched his friend’s knees dive way but shook himself wide awake and dived forwards m breaking the fall. Newt’s leg flared up in pain from the sudden and awkward movement, but it didn’t matter.
Thomas was unconscious and by the looks of it, bleeding out terribly. Newt hadn’t noticed it at first, but dark red bloody was slowly seeping through Thomas’s shirt. Newt grimaced and attempted to pull Thomas to his feet with no luck. Grumbling, he knelt down, laying Thomas gently on the ground, before wrapping one arm under his torso, the other under his knees, and lifting him securely upwards. Newt wasn’t the strongest Glader, that title belonged to Minho, but he wasn’t weak either. It could’ve also been that Thomas was just light, but Newt carried him without a struggle and rushed to the homestead.
After making it to the wooden building, he called for help and Winston sped over, followed by a boy named Frankie. Together, they took Thomas from Newt’s arms and hauled him up the homestead. As they walked speedily, Newt stumbled behind, cursing his leg silently, and hissed at them to be more gentle a little too often. Jeff immediately got Thomas to a bed and Newt watched warily as the boy was patched up. The gash across his stomach was not pleasant and it took both Jeff and Clint to cleanse and wrap it properly. The entire time, Minho stood anxiously in the doorway.
He had been told to bed rest but refused because he was ‘bored’. Newt gave up with trying to convince him and they both just watched over Thomas together. Thomas was utterly exhausted and didn’t wake up for hours. Newt sat beside the bed for the whole day, occasionally checking up on Alby who was under Clint’s supervision. Chuck visited him multiple times and brought food on Frypan’s orders. Together, Newt and Chuck sat on the floor and ate in silence. The only sound was footsteps from the corridor and Thomas’s shaky breathing.
Chuck was eventually sent to sleep but Newt remained with Thomas, despite heavy teasing from Minho, and slept sitting upright beside the bed. He hadn’t realised that he had nodded off until he woke up to find a blanket draped over him. It was still dark outside and Newt stretched groggily, adjusting his eyes to the dim room. Thomas had moved position on the bed and was lying on his side facing Newt. Newt smiled softly and stood, carefully laying the blanket back over Thomas and tucking him in. As he did so, he reminisced about when he had found Thomas asleep in the Deadheads.
It was only a couple of days after his arrival at the Glade and he had run off, napping in the Deadheads for some peace. Feeling pitiful for him, Newt had placed a small blanket over him and left it like that. Days later, however, Newt had been looking for Thomas and discovered him resting in that same spot, clutching the blanket tightly to his chest. That was a particularly fond memory of Newt’s. As he thought, Thomas stirred and peered up at him. “Newt?” Newt quickly let go of the blanket and crouched down, his brows furrowing. “Sorry Tomy, did I wake you?” Thomas shook his head but frowned slightly, “What are you doing here?”
Newt shrugged as casually as possible but didn’t dare tell Thomas the real reason, then he cared deeply for him, and instead rolled his eyes playfully, “Wow okay. Do you not like seeing my face first thing when you wake up?” He grinned foolishly and Thomas huffed with amusement. “Alright, alright, though we should probably sleep. It’s late.”
“No shuck.”
“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm.”
“Just shut your eyes Tommy.”
Newt went to sit down on the floor again but Thomas grabbed his wrist, “What are you doing?” Newt paused and just stared blankly at Thomas for a second, “Going to sleep?”
“Down there?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t be stupid. There’s enough room for both of us up here. C’mon,” Thomas shuffled over and turned to face the wall. Newt’s eyes widened as he watched the back of Thomas’s head.
Was he dreaming? He wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was. It would be ideal to just lay back on the floor again, but Thomas was a persistent bugger who would’ve insisted Newt took the bed. “Oh god,”. Newt thought as he clambered in beside Thomas, “Minho’s never gonna let me hear the bloody end of this.” His pulse was through the roof but it didn’t matter now. He was laying beside Thomas, very close, and Thomas repositioned the blanket over both of them. As his eyelids flickered shut, a smile tugged at Newt’s lips. Maybe now that Thomas was here, life in the Glade wouldn’t be all doom and gloom.