in another life; the maze runner

☆thirty-seven☆

Everyone immediately rushed to Winston's side as he lay in the gleaming sand. Newt knelt near his head, Frypan looking over his wound while the rest of the group, besides Thomas, had dropped to their knees surrounding him. The brunette was standing above his friends and watching as Winston sputtered each breath he took. His eyes were fluttering open and closed, his skin seemingly pale despite the sun glinting down on him.

"Winston, can you hear me?" Newt asked, his voice soft but filled with concern for his friend. Winston hacked up a rough cough in response. Teresa grabbed his face with her hands, studying him intently as if she had done this a thousand times.

"He's hurt pretty bad, what do we do?" She coaxed, glancing up at Thomas for leadership.

"We can't let him walk like this," Mae added, taking his backpack from where he had tossed it a few feet away and hoisting it over her left shoulder, so that she had one bag on each. While the others continued trying to invoke a response from their fallen friend, she stood next to Thomas, who already had gears turning in his mind about how they would address the issue.

Without another word, he turned away from her and slid down the sand dune, making his way toward a pile of rubble at the bottom. Mae watched him in curiosity, her eyes darting from Winston to Thomas.

"What is he doing?" Minho asked, having noticed the odd behavior from his friend when he should have been concerned about Winston. Mae shrugged, her eyes narrowed as Thomas bent down to pick up a few lead pipes stacked on top of each other, obviously more busy with his task than their questions.

"I have no idea," She replied. Minho's curiosity peaked and he too slid down the sand, trying to keep his balance as he ended up next to the brunette who was trying to heave the pipes into his arms.

"We have to make some sort of thing to pull Winston along with, so that we can keep moving," Thomas explained, allowing Minho to take one of the pipes so that they could carry them back up the sand hill. Mae instantly understood what he meant- they could use the pipes to hold and attach some sort of cloth to them so that Winston could lay on it. Her spirits brightened at the prospect of keeping him comfortable while still continuing to reach their destination.

Thomas and Minho struggled getting up the dune with their hands full, but eventually made it. Meanwhile, Mae had begun to fish through her backpack for anything else that could be useful, and when she had no luck she put Winston's bag down and unzipped it. She found exactly was she was looking for- a worn out grey blanket, that was tattered and past it's days but would work perfectly for the use of their contraption.

Thomas and Minho laid the four pipes on the ground in a rectangular formation, their eyes focused intently on the girl. The rest of the group had acknowledged their success, but were more occupied with trying to get Winston to drink some of Newt's water.

"You're a genius, Thomas." She had an elated smile on her face as she flapped the blanket out to fit in the space that they had curated for it. Her gaze didn't waver from her task, so she didn't notice the flustered look that flashed across Thomas's features at her words.

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Minho and Frypan each held one side of the makeshift, portable cot while Winston was curled up on the blanket. They were at the back of the group, due to the heavy load they were holding. Newt was just in front of them, his attention divided between the path ahead of him and his sickly friend. Then there was Aris and Teresa toward the middle, both remaining quiet as they stayed even with each other in a silent solidarity.