Newt

Changing

There was no body for them to bury. George did not die of the changing. He died because of it, because of his violence. They were given no choice. They had to send him back into the maze.

It was Alby’s idea, but Newt was the one to enforce it. Alby couldn’t go. It hurt too much. Newt understood that. Only one other boy, Winston, was there for the banishing. The rest were too weak of stomach.

Newt held the rope that bound George’s hands together. He dragged him to the opening of the door and threw him to the ground. Winston eyed him uncomfortably. Newt didn’t blame him. He was starting to scare himself.

Now they just had to wait for the doors to close. If they could keep him in the maze until the doors closed, he’d have no choice. They just had to keep him in place.

George didn’t make it easy for them. He charged the two of them the second he could stand. Winston kicked him down, but he was quick. He threw himself on Winston and began punching him in the face so hard he almost crushed his skull. Newt threw George back into the dirt.

With no real combat skills, Newt was relying on pure instinct at this moment as he faced George. His opponent was stronger, fiercer and had nothing to lose. Newt wasn’t helpless, though. He was taller, faster, and, to say most humbly, a bloody lot smarter than this shank.

Newt could see the shift in George’s feet right before he attacked. Instead of knocking Newt to the floor, which seemed to be George’s move, he fell face first into the dirt. In an instant, Newt was on top of him, pinning him to the ground with his hands behind his back.

George flailed, desperately trying to knock Newt off. He almost did too. Newt knew then that this wasn’t going to work. He heard the sound of the doors beginning to close and he knew what he had to do.

Newt lost control of himself, allowed himself to be taken by pure, animalistic instinct. A savage scream tore its way up his throat as he shoved George’s head into the dirt, smashing it over and over again until the boy stopped moving. His leg was twitching as Newt stepped off of him, face still blank.

Winston sat up on his elbows and stared at Newt with a look that could only be described as horror. Newt tried to make himself care. Not yet, he told himself. Not yet.

He didn’t wait for Winston. He dragged George’s lifeless body into the maze and walked back, not flinching as the doors nearly crushed him. He simply slipped out at the last second and kept walking back towards the camp, Winston watching him the entire way.