Newt Imagines (The Maze Runner)

Hope For The Best

You stand staring at the building before you, the massive monolith of crumbling concrete and rusty iron rails that lead to nowhere. You should be used to the Scorch by now, the kind of rotting waste that perpetuates just about everything, yet something about the once-towering skyscraper still chills you to your core.

Someone comes to a stop beside you, looking unhappily at the broken windows, how they gape like empty eye sockets in the metal bones of the place.

"Are you sure we have to go in?"

You glance over at Newt, unable to hide a smile at his obvious unease. "What, this doesn't seem like your idea of a good time?"

Newt gives you a look. "Well, seeing as trying to seek out rabid madmen isn't exactly a picnic, I'd say that going in one of the worst looking buildings isn't the best of ideas. Remind me why we're doing this, again?"

You turn back towards the building. The other Gladers are slowly but surely catching up to you, and Thomas has already gone up ahead to scout the place out.

"We need to get out of the sun before the morning lengthens, and even if this looks like a haunted house come to life, it's better than burning out here. Besides, Thomas thinks we should be able to find some members of the Right Arm around here somewhere."

Newt groans. "Right, Thomas. Tell me why we're stuck following the most foolhardy Greenie we've ever had since you or Minho?"

You chuckle. "Because he got us out of the Maze, and we like risking our lives for nothing."

Newt squints. "Do we?"

The sound of footsteps can barely be heard over the roaring of the wind, and then your brother is standing on Newt's other side, grimacing up at the rotting building. Minho has been the bravest of your lot for a while now, ever since he decided to become a Runner, but even he doesn't like this latest destination.

"Of course we like risking our lives, Newt, what else would we be doing? Slogging through the Scorch merely to survive? Don't be ridiculous."

Newt throws up his hands. "I can't handle both of you being sarcastically pessimistic. One at a time, please."

Minho rolls his eyes. "You had to deal with it back in the Maze, and we're not going away."

You match your brother's grin with intensity. "Exactly. Just admit that you find us extremely funny, you can't deny it any longer."

Newt pushes both of you away from him, although he's clearly trying to hold back a laugh. "Alright, shut it. You don't know what you're talking about."

You and Minho exchange teasing glances behind Newt's back. "Of course we don't."

Up ahead, Thomas signals for the rest of you to join him, and an anxious mood settles back over the three of you, troubling you with whispers of what might happen in that building. You can't immediately spot any Cranks, but you swear you saw flurries of movement in some of the broken-out windows, like there's still rot remaining in the broken teeth of this skyscraper.

But if Thomas thinks it's the way forward, it's the way forward. You've come too far to have misgivings; every place around here is dangerous, and at least now you have an excuse to draw close to your friends, instinctively watching each other's backs. All the cowardly have died throughout your journey, as have the overly brave. The only ones left are you lot, the ones who'd do things they'd rather forget just to go on drawing breath. No matter if that life seems less and less sweet with every day, you keep going. You've done too much to give up now.

The shade of the building is bliss compared to the heat of the sun outside. The solar flares did a number on the planet, and even though it's been years since hell itself came to pay a visit, the climate has yet to fully recover. To call the Scorch just a desert is to call a knife in the chest a mere triviality, the Flare a dismal cold. Even if it's risky to go into such an enclosed space, you can't deny that it's nice to be out of the sun's direct line of vision.