Abused ≫ Newt [2]

Chapter 31.

Lights blazed throughout the Homestead. Faint flickers of the flames from the lit torches the Gladers carried with them- they didn't dare use anymore light than what was needed, not yet.
A couple of boys huddled in a corner. All crying, their shoulder shaking with sobs, their faces buried in their knees.
Emily's heart broke at the scene. Whether it was pity for the boys, or pity for herself, she did not know.
Yes, she pitied herself. She may have even hated herself, at that moment. After everything she had been through, she could not even shed a single for two of her closest friends that were missing.
Emily shook the thought from her head and focused on her current task: cleaning Newt's head wound. The boy was awake now, sitting on the bed and hissing in pain every time Emily touched his wound. She dabbed a rag soaked in disinfectant, relief washing over her as she watched little white bubbles appear in the opening of the cut.
Thomas paced back and forth by the window, his hands behind his back and muttering something inaudible. He suddenly stopped, looked at Emily and Newt and spoke up. "Minho followed it out there!"
Emily ignored him, flipping the rag as a small patchy spot of blood began to seep through the material.
"I saw," Newt said, flinching for what seemed like the millionth time. "Shuck it, it hurts like a bloody mother. Minho must've finally fried his last bit of brain cells- not to mention Gally. Always knew he was shucking crazy."
Once again, Emily stayed silent. Her mind was swarming like a swarm of bees around their hive, and she was unable to process any words. She could only worry about Minho. How could the shank be so stupid, running after multiple Grievers like that?
"I'm going after him," Thomas spoke, breaking her from her thoughts. He headed towards the door, but Newt reached out and stopped him.
"Time to be a bloody hero again. Eh, Tommy?"
Thomas rolled his eyes, seemingly unfazed by Newt's harsh remark. "You think I do things to impress you shanks? Please. All I care about is getting myself and the people I care about out of here." He glanced at Emily as he said this, the faintest hint of a smile curling at his lips.
Newt glanced between the two of them, obviously suspecting something. "Yeah, well, you sure are a regular toughie. You are going to get yourself killed because of it one day. But right. now we've got worse problems. "
"Yeah, yeah-" Thomas suddenly cut off, his head snapping to the shattered window. "There he is!" Newt and Emily both shot up, ran over to the window just in time to see Minho running through the Doors. The boy looked out of breath- Emily could see his chest rising and falling from where she stood- but he had a big smile on his face. He was obviously happy about something.
"Come on, Tom-" Emily turned to Thomas, but it was too late. He was already bolting out the door at full speed. Emily turned to Newt, who was still looking out the window, the rag held to his forehead.
"Are you okay to go out there?" she asked softly, worry overcoming her common sense.
Newt turned to her, a teasing smile curled at his lips. "Last time I checked, I don't use my head to walk." He grabbed her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Come on, let's go."
By the time her and Newt caught up to Thomas, he was already deep in conversation with Minho. Thomas was the one doing most of the talking, however, as the Runner was still out of breath. His hands on his knees, Minho barely paid attention to what Thomas was saying.
"What do you think you were doing, you shuck idiot?" Emily scolded as she stopped beside Thomas, Newt beside her.
Minho was silent for a moment, held his finger up in a signal to wait as he wheezed. "Just wanted... to make sure..."
"Make sure of what?" Newt asked. "Lotta good you'd be, taken with Gally."
Minho sighed and straightened up, out his hands on his hips, still breathing heavily. "Slim it, shanks and lady shank! I just wanted to see if they went towards the Cliff. Toward the Griever hole."
"And?" Thomas pressed, sounding even more impatient than Emily felt.
"Bingo." Minho smirked and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"I just can't believe it," Newt said, his voice almost a whisper. "What a night."
Emily stared at the ground, fighting to process everything that happened in the past few hours. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts, her head hurt. She was so tired, she was having trouble staying on her feet. All of this was so overwhelming to her, and she felt as if she were about to be sick. She felt two hands grasp her shoulders as she stumbled to the side.
"You alright?" Newt's voice was barley more than a soft ringing to her, so unlike the other sounds that rang through her ears like a freight train.
"She looks half asleep on her shuck feet," Minho commented, still wheezing from his run. "Maybe she should go lay down."
"I'm fine." Emily was suddenly brought back into reality. As if someone had pressed a magical button, her mind cleared. Her head no longer hurt, she felt wide awake. "Sorry. It's just all overwhelming."
"It is to all of us." Newt's voice was soft, though laced with bitterness as he spoke. "But we can't do nothing about it. Best we can do is just fight it."
"What were you about to tell me?" Thomas suddenly spoke up, looking up from the ground. "You said we had worse problems-"
"Yeah." Newt pointed his thumb over his shoulder, a scowl etched across his face. "You can still see the buggin' smoke."
Emily turned to see where he was pointing, as did Thomas. She gasped at the scene before her, suddenly feeling lightheaded all over again. The heavy metal door of the Map Room was slightly ajar, barely hanging on by a single hinge. A wispy trail of black smoke was drifting out and into the gray sky, gathering just above the tree line in a small cloud.
Emily turned back to Newt, who was staring at the Map Room with a somber expression.
"What the shuck happened?"
Newt turned to look at Thomas, then to her as he spoke. "Someone burned the bloody Map trunks." he said. "Every last one of 'em."