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Thomas was in no mood for whining - they had to do something.
"Well, we'd be no better off in the Homestead. Hate to say it, but if one of us dies, that's better than all of us."
He really hoped the one-person-a-night thing was true now. Seeing all these Grievers close up hit home with an explosion of reality - could they really fight them all?
A long moment passed before Alby replied.
"Maybe i should…"
He trailed off and started walking forward - in the direction of the Cliff - slowly, as if in a trance. Thomas watched in detached awe - he couldn't believe his eyes.
"Alby?" Newt said. "Get back here!"
Instead of responding, Alby took off running - he headed straight for the pack of Grievers between him and the Cliff.
"Alby!" Newt screamed.
Thomas started to say something himself, but Alby had already made it to the monsters and jumped on top of one. Newt moved away from Thomas's side and towards Alby - but five or six Grievers had already burst to life and attacked the boy in a blur of metal and skin. Thomas reached out and grabbed Newt by the arms before he could go any farther, then pulled him backwards.
The sheer horror that washed through him at the thought of that happening to Newt - his Newt - snapped him out of his trance and grounded him. He dug his fingers into the older boy to make sure he didn't break free.
"Let go!" Newt yelled. struggling to break loose.
"Are you nuts?" Thomas shouted. "There's nothing you can do!"
Two more Grievers broke from the pack and swarmed over Alby, piling on top of each other, snapping and cutting at the boy, as if they wanted to rub it in, show their vicious cruelty. Somehow, impossibly, Alby didn't scream. Thomas lost sight of the body as he struggled with Newt, thankful for the distraction.
"Thomas! I have to-"
Thomas closed his eyes against the way Newt's face was twisting, something akin to madness warping his features. His heart hiccuped at the sound of his full name on Newt's tongue. It felt all wrong. He moved with the blonde as he threw himself sideways in an attempt to dislodge Thomas's hold.
"Newt please! We can't help him now!"
The blonde gave a garbled cry, something in-between a sob and a scream. Thomas felt his heart breaking but he held on, knowing in that moment that Newt hated him for what he was doing.
Newt finally gave up, collapsing backwards in defeat.
Alby had flipped once and for all, Thomas thought, fighting the urge to rid his stomach of its contents. Their leader had been so scared to go back to whatever he'd seen, he'd chosen to sacrifice himself instead. He was gone. Totally gone.
Thomas helped steady Newt on his feet; the Glader couldn't stop staring at the spot where his friend had disappeared. His long fingers clutched at Thomas's hand on his arm, and his breathing was shaky and unsteady.
"I can't believe it," Newt whispered. "I can't believe he just did that."
Thomas shook his head, for a moment unable to reply. Seeing Alby go down like that… a new kind of pain he'd never felt before filled his insides - an ill, disturbed pain; it felt worse than the physical kind. And he didn't even know if it had anything to do with Alby - he'd never much liked the guy. But the thought that what he'd just seen might happen to Chuck - or Teresa…
He looked at Newt's familiar face. He couldn't even allow the idea that he might lose Newt to enter his head. The frozen, frightened look on his friend's face made it hard to breathe. Newt's usually warm brown eyes were cold and filled with tears. Thomas tightened his hold on the blonde's arms, feeling wretched in the face of Newt's pain.
Thomas had never much liked Alby, but Newt had loved the guy like a brother. They'd been together in the Glade and protecting the other Gladers for so much longer than anything else any of them knew. Seeing Newt like this was breaking his heart and Thomas couldn't stop the awful feeling rising in his chest. He loved Newt, he knew he did, and watching him cry knowing he couldn't stop his pain was worse than anything Thomas could ever imagine feeling.
"I'm sorry." he whispered, knowing even as he said it that his words just weren't enough.
Newt choked out a sob and finally looked at him, his fingers clinging desperately to Thomas as he struggled to stay standing. He looked so broken that Thomas felt a deeper sort of fear filling him. Newt was so strong, so sure, a constant that they all relied on. He kept them hopeful, kept them together, kept them sane. He had never considered how they'd manage without the certainty of their second in command.
He watched as Newt's eyes returned to the spot where Alby had been taken from them for good, and he swallowed the want to cry. He couldn't, they didn't have time to stop, no matter who went down - and that frightened him even more.
Minho moved closer to Thomas and Newt, squeezed Newt's shoulder.
"We can't waste what he did." He turned towards Thomas. "We'll fight 'em if we have to, make a path for you and Teresa. Get in the Hole and do your thing - we'll keep them off till you scream for us to follow."