monachopsis - maze runner

chapter 33

Chapter 33
On the Head of a Pin

“No. There’s gotta be another way.” Florence decided, for the third time in twenty minutes, that she was going to take a page from Thomas’ crisis management book and punch him in the nose. The Gladers, Brenda, and Jorge were spread out around a large circular table cluttered with maps and blueprints of the Last City. The ominous centerpiece was four WCKD merc helmets - no one wanted to ask how Lawrence had obtained them.

“Like what?” Gally pushed. He’d been calmly taking the brunt of Thomas’ rage, and Florence applauded him for it. Despite what Teresa had done, she still held a bit of Thomas’ affection. It was a decidedly small bit, and it had dwindled to almost nothing after what happened to Minho, but it was enough to put up resistance to Gally’s plan. “You’ve seen the building, she’s our only way in.”

“You really think she’s gonna help us?” Thomas challenged.

“I don’t plan on asking for her permission,” Gally fired back. If Thomas had the ability to burn lasers through Gally’s skull with his eyes, he would have. Florence’s stool was placed inconveniently between them and she rounded the table to sit beside Brenda. 

“I’m sorry,” Brenda raised her hand. “Am I missing something here? This is the same girl who betrayed us, correct? Same dick?”

Florence nudged her, “This is why I like you.” Brenda smirked. “But honestly, Thomas. After everything she’s done?” 

Thomas sighed, “I-”

“What, you afraid your little girlfriend’s gonna get hurt?” Florence’s slumped posture unfurled and she felt every muscle in her body go rigid. This was the first time Newt had spoken since Thomas’ tirade began. The ice in his voice was unmistakable. “Because this has obviously never been just about rescuing Minho, has it?”

“W- What are you talking about?” Thomas fumbled, looking to Florence for help, but she had none to give him. There was a storm behind Newt’s eyes, and Thomas’ words had just become a lightning rod.

“Teresa,” Newt spat the name like a curse. He straightened up, bringing their faces inches apart. “She’s the only reason Minho’s even missing in the first place. Now we finally have an opportunity to get him back. And what, you don’t want to because of her?” He stalked forward, fists clenched at his sides, forcing Thomas back. To Florence’s left, Gally’s back straightened and his hands clenched the rim of the table. He saw something she didn’t. “Because deep down you still care about her, don’t you? Just admit it.” His voice dropped to a whisper, the tempest within him curling back, waiting.

The sliver of Thomas’ face that Florence could see was wounded, confused. For all his mistakes, Newt had never spoken against him in this way. He tried to contain the storm gently, as he always had. “Newt, I-”

“Don’t lie to me!” Thomas’ back smacked against the wall, Newt’s hands at his collar. They were so close that their noses brushed together. “Don’t lie to me.” Gally’s hand was on Florence’s shoulder in a second, holding her in place before she had the chance to rise. But she was frozen, her tongue clenched so tight between her teeth that she drew blood. She’d put the pieces together.

Newt’s entire demeanor seemed to soften. His hands fell from Thomas’ shirt and he stepped back. When he turned to look at them, the malice had left his eyes. He looked like something within had shattered. “I’m sorry.” He left the room in a daze, his right arm clutched to his chest.

Florence’s face fell into her hands. Only a few slivers of sunlight peeked through her fingers, but she didn’t have to see the room to know what came next. “Thomas.” He stalled, one hand on the doorframe. “Give him a few minutes to cool off before you talk to him.” She raised her head just enough to see him nod, then he was gone.