The glue that held me together: a Newtmas fan fic

Chapter 4

Sorry for the late update I've been busy with homework.

- Natasha
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As Newt and I were walking towards the bonfire, I could hear Minho shouting at Gally. Newt quickened his pace, obviously making a bee-line in their direction. I put my hand on his shoulder to stop him. I left my hand there for a moment only for it to be shrugged off by Newt. He saw me smiling at Minho and Gally. They were hollering in laughter, probably from some stupid fart joke Minho cracked. I turned to Newt, who was staring at then, mesmerised by the sight.

"Newt what is it?" I asked him, wanting to know what mesmerised him so much.

He turned to me and grinned slightly. He pointed to the Gladers around the campfire. "They're joking 'round as if we haven't been stuck in this bloody maze for two years. That's the thing 'bout the Glade, we 'ave each other. We've formed a trust and a brotherly bond. If we don't have trust, we would have killed each other ages ago. 'Cause of the trust we have, we're created order." I blinked in surprise. Newt seems to care about order, from what I've seen. He has a brotherly love for these guys and he wants to protect them in any way that he can. The features on his faces was illuminated by the campfire. I smiled and turned around. I sat on a log facing the Maze doors, away from everyone else. I heard footsteps moving away from me, fading away.

What's out there? What are those noises? Why haven't they found a way out? There must be some way of getting out of here, otherwise there would have been no reason for the Creators to put us here in the first place. But why? Are they testing us or something? I knew the questions that were bugging me wouldn't be answered because no one knows the answers. I should help them out. I want to get these innocent people and myself out of this hell.

"Hey Tommy," a voice said. I turned around to see Newt standing behind me, favouring his left leg. He awkwardly sat on the log next to me as I continued to look at the Maze doors. The Maze was more interesting then Newt at the moment.

"Why aren't you enjoying yourself?" Newt continued. "You're supposed to be the guest of honour." I looked at him in the eye and went back to the Maze. How do the doors even close? It just defies every rule of physics.

"Why are ya glarin' at the Maze Tommy?"

"What's out there?" I asked without taking my eyes off the Maze. There was a loud inhuman scream from the Maze. I flinched and widened my eyes, until I thought they would pop out.

"That Tommy is a griever," he answered as if it was completely normal.

I finally turned to face Newt's unaffected face. "Yeah but what is a griever?"

"I'll have to show ya the window tomorrow."

"Let me see it now." I wanted to know what that noise was, although a small part of my mind was telling me to back off. I need to know some answers or my head will explode.

"Come on, I'll show ya 'round a bit." I shot up and looked at Newt, ready to know some answers. We walked around the blazing bonfire and continued walking around. What was he going to show me? As if on cue, he answered my question immediately.

"See that guy over there?" he said as he pointed to an acne covered faced boy. "That's Winston. He's the keeper of the slicers, who raise and slaughter the animals in the Bloodhouse. Gally's the keeper of the builders, who are really good with their hands but not the smartest of us." He pointed to a boy who looked about fifteen years old. He was rather tall and skinny with black hair, green eyes and a noise that looked like a deformed potato. He eyebrow was crinkled in anger. He was glaring at me. I ignored him and continued to follow Newt.

Newt pointed to a black-haired, tall boy with a long face a droopy eyes, making him look boring. "That's Zart the Fart. He's the keeper of the track-hoes who work in the Gardens.'
I looked at Newt in confusion. "His name is Zart the Fart?"

Newt chuckled. "Nah. His name is Zart even though most of us call him Zart the Fart." He pointed to a plump kid with a full beard. "Frypan is the keeper of the cooks. The cooks are pretty straight forward. Then we 'ave the Med-jacks who are our closest thing to doctors. Then we have Runners."

"What are runners?" I asked instantly, cutting Newt off.

"Ya didn't let me finished. The Runners go in the Maze every mornin' and run the maze, mapping it." Something flared in my mind. I wanted to be a Runner. I knew it sounded insane but I didn't care. I had to help these people out of here. I had to help these innocent people get better lives. But were they innocent? Neither of us remembered our past. What if some of us were fugitives? What if they were wanted? What if I was wanted?

"Tommy," Newt said, snapping his fingers. I blinked several times. "Did ya hear what I said?"

"Sorry no," I apologised.

Newt rolled his eyes. "Minho is the keeper of the Runners. The Runners have to be the fittest and the fastest of us because if they don't make it back before the doors close they're stuck out there."

"What is so bad about staying in the Maze overnight?"

"Told ya. Grievers. No one has ever survived a night in the Maze." I tore my eyes off Newt and looked back at the Maze. What is so bad about the grievers? Why do the doors close anyway? I shook my head, trying to stop myself from wondering off of these impossible questions that would never be answered. Someone started to yell something. I stood up and walked over to the crowd of teenaged boys. They surrounding a ring of sand with rope edging it. Two Gladers were pushing each other, trying to get the other out of the circle. One of them, Gally, had successfully pushed the other out, causing him to be flung at me. I fell to the ground with the other Glader on top of me. I pushed him off and glared at Gally. He ignored me and pushed his head up in pride, awaiting his next challenger. I pushed the Gladers out of my way and walked to the forest, shaking my head in confusion. How can these people just stand around and have fun when they have been stuck in this hell for over 2 years? Why don't they all be Runners and get the job over with? I kicked stones in annoyance and slammed my fist on a tree. I ignored the throbbing pain my knuckles and put my hands on my knees trying to calm myself. I was going insane. The only reason these people haven't gone crazy is because they have maintained order. Without order, no one would have survived this long. I moaned in confusion and lent against the tree behind me. I closed my eyes, willing myself to awaken from the nightmare, willing myself to forget this place. Fatigue was growing heavy on my eyes and I calmed my mind from any other thoughts.