centre | newtmas au

38

Newt
Newt focused on the sound of the helicopter above him. It grounded him, and pulled him away from the sound of the grievers; a sound that he had once been fascinated, even excited, by.
Now, he was scared.
He was only moments away from being safe, from climbing up the ladder and being out of here forever, with Thomas by his side.
He was pulled abruptly from this thoughts by a guttural growl.
"Shit" he said, as the griever broke the distance between them and was suddenly inches from his face.

In one swift motion, he snatched his spear from it's place on his back and forcefully directed it into the grievers eye.
The griever sprung back, screeching and crying out. He took this opportunity to run past it, acknowledging the other boys as he passed them, using the ladder as an anchor point.

They were coming thick and fast now. WCKD knew, and it appeared they had no care for how much blood they spilled. Newt was glad none of it was his, and he prayed to bloody anyone that would listen that none of it would be Thomas'.

"Newt!" Frypan yelled, coming up behind.
"You okay Fry?" he asked, gratefully taking in the face of his friend.
"Except from the cardio workout, I'm doing great" he replied sarcastically, in spite of the situation, wiping sweat from his brow.
As Newt turned to look behind him, a griever jumped onto the wall he was standing beside, digging it's metal claws into the concrete and tangling them in the ivy.
The griever had good purchase, and Newt felt an sense of overwhelming dread as soon as it began to scuttle along the wall above them.

"Minho!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Incoming!"
Minho's head snapped up, taking in the sight above him. He adjusted his grip on the spear and launched at the griever, lodging it's sharp end in the base of the grievers tail. As it reacted, and fell to the ground with a crash, Thomas appeared from the shadows and jumped on top of it, stabbing it in the eye.
"Bullseye" he said, wiping the griever's insides off his spearhead. Frypan grimaced.
"Getting in the eye will get it down for a while, but not permanently. We need to move" Minho said, gesturing for them to follow behind him.
Mary was yelling at them from above, her face small and pale against the blue sky. Her words were muffled, but Newt got the gist. They had to hurry.
Minho was the first to reach the ladder, nimbly swinging his upper body up to the fourth rung, finding purchase with his feet and climbing up. Thomas hung back, helping Frypan up.
Newt watched as Thomas looked at the mess behind them, at the figures running towards them. Winston was dodging metal claws left and right, and Jeff was mid-battle, his spear close to breaking to splinters.
Thomas eye's met Newt's, and Newt saw it in his eyes before he could speak. Thomas was going back to help, no matter what it cost him.

"It's okay" Newt mouthed across the noise. "Go"
Thomas nodded, and ran past him their hands brushing against each other. Newt took a snapshot in his mind of the roughness of his skin, and the way it felt. He smiled gently.

Thomas guided Teresa, who was only a few metres away, to Newt, who helped her up on to the ladder. He watched her smile as Mary pulled her into the helicopter and squeezed her shoulder. He made out the faintest of 'thank yous' pass from her lips.
In a flurry, Thomas got Winston and Jeff to Newt, who got them to the copter.
Gally was left, along with a few others. Newt kept his eyes on Thomas' blue top and brown hair, following them wherever he went. He admired the way his top clung to his torso, how it shifted over the planes of his body and the softness of his shoulders, despite their broadness.
He was transfixed, for so long, that he didn't hear what was coming up behind him. He swung around, ready, but it appeared it was in vain, because they made no effort to come near him. They were ploughing towards the other boys, and Newt's words became strangled as he tried to signal to Thomas.
The boys closest to the ladder, Ben, Alby, and Zart, made a sprint for it, and managed to avoid the monsters attention.
"I should stay" Alby said.
"No. It's about bloody time you left the hard stuff to other people" Newt replied, pushing him towards the ladder.
One by one they scrambled up, throwing their exhausted bodies onto the floor, hands reaching for them and supporting them.
Gally and Thomas remained and they were outnumbered 4 to 2. Newt looked up, hoping to find the eyes of Mary, but Teresa's were first in line.
She glanced from Newt to Thomas fearfully and then nodded.
Newt switched his spear into his strong hand and ran.

Minutes later, with a combined effort, they had taken out three grievers. One remained.
"Gally, get up to the helicopter" Newt said. "We've got this from here"
Gally nodded, not wasting any breath to respond.
The final griever stood at the mouth of the maze, a few metres from them. It had some damage to it's tail, but otherwise it was fully functional.
It moved slowly towards them, in a way that made Newt uncomfortable. The sound of it's claws on the floor were jarring, like nails on a blackboard. It sent shivers up his spine.
"Flank it" Thomas said, taking the left side, pressing his back up against the wall. Newt did the same on the opposite side.
Thomas began to bang his spear on the wall, catching the grievers attention. It's head snapped towards Thomas, it's mouth opening wide, baring it's grimy teeth.
At first, Newt didn't understand, but then it clicked. He started to hit his spear off the concrete, just as Thomas had done. The grievers attention switched, back and forth. It was unable to track either of them now.
Then Newt's spear cracked into two, and fell to the ground. It rolled. And rolled some more.
Thomas didn't notice at first, and the sound of wood on stone rang out in Newt's ears. In the grievers ears.
The griever sprang, trapping Thomas underneath it. He stuck his spear in between it's jaws, pushing up against it, forcing it back. Newt was powerless; his weapon was broken, his body was too weak, his fear paralysing him.
"Go" Thomas screamed through gritted teeth, his eyes unmoving from the griever.
Newt shook his head decisively.
"No" he stated, firmly.
Thomas closed his eyes, and Newt saw his arms were shaking from the exertion. A single tear slipped out from his eye.
This couldn't be it, Newt thought. This wasn't the last time he'd see Thomas. Their story wasn't over yet.
Newt took a step forward, deliberating if his weight would be enough to shift a griever, when a shout came from behind.
"No time for tears just yet" Minho yelled, jumping from the ladder, his booted feet crashing on the floor. With apparent ease, he leapt at the griever, digging a knife directly into the top of it's open mouth. That was enough. Thomas pulled his body out, and the three of them forced their limbs into submission, and before long they were sitting on the helicopters floor, a cluster of sweat, shallow breaths and griever mucus.

"Say your goodbyes" Mary said. "The maze is behind you now"

😙
it's almost the end guys i actually am getting quite sad.
hope u enjoyed x