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"Have any of them gotten in yet?" he asked, a strange calm washing over him. "Do all the windows have these bars?"
Minho nodded towards one of the many lining the walls of the long rectangular room.
"Yeah. It was too dark to notice them last night, especially with those stupid frilly curtains. But i'm sure glad for 'em."
Thomas looked at the other Gladers around them, some running from window to window to get a look outside, others huddling in small groups. Everyone had a look of half disbelief, half terror. He felt himself finally start to become fully awake, and a sudden and forceful shock rocketed through his system.
"Where's Newt?"
"Right here."
The accented voice washed sweetly over him. Thomas turned to see the older boy, not knowing how he'd missed him. Newt was tousle-haired and looked incredibly young in the pale blue clothing their rescuers had given them. Right here. He could only hope that those words would always be true. Thomas reached out automatically, catching himself when his hand was half-way to Newt. They weren't alone. The others…
Newt's brown eyes met his and the blonde's lips quirked in a gentle half-smile that calmed Thomas down again. He shifted his footing a little so he stood closer. Surprising Thomas, he reached out the short distance, enclosing their fingers together and squeezing.
"What's goin' on?"
"You think i have a bloody clue? Bunch of crazies want to eat us for breakfast, by the looks of it. We need to find another room, have a Gathering. All this noise is driving nails through my buggin' skull."
They turned back to Minho, and his blue eyes flicked down the length of their arms to where their joined hands hid, enclosed between their hips, before his gaze returned to Newt. He didn't say anything, but he didn't seem surprised.
Thomas nodded absently; he agreed with the plan but hoped Newt and Minho would take care of it. He was eager to make contact with Teresa.