The First Runner

This is going to be interesting

Jess POV

Newt's frustration was palpable as we entered the Med-jack hut. His brows were furrowed, and his hands were clenched into fists, his patience clearly wearing thin.

"Jeff, what's going on?" Newt demanded, his voice tight with concern. "What's the matter with her? Why won't she wake up?"

The girl lay unconscious on the bed in front of us, pale as a ghost. If it weren't for the faint rise and fall of her chest, I would have sworn she was dead. I crossed my arms, wincing slightly as my shoulder ached from the Grievers' rough treatment.

Jeff sighed and gave us a tired look. "Hey man, I got my job the same way you did." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm no bloody doctor."

"Right, because that's exactly what we need right now. Another clueless shank," I muttered under my breath, rolling my shoulder experimentally and immediately regretting it. Newt shot me a sideways look, but I ignored it, more focused on the girl on the cot.

Thomas was staring at the girl's face with an intensity that made me uncomfortable. His frown deepened, but Newt wasn't having it.

"Do you recognize her?" Newt snapped, eyes narrowing at Thomas.

Thomas hesitated. "No."

Lie. Plain as day. Even Minho, who was leaning against the wall, half-asleep on his feet, could tell.

"Really?" Newt challenged, stepping closer. "Because she seemed to recognize you."

I laid a hand on Newt's arm, feeling the tension radiating from him. "Easy, Newt. Let's not throttle him—yet." I gave Thomas a pointed look. He didn't meet my gaze.

"Right. Sorry, love," Newt muttered under his breath, stepping back but still glaring at Thomas like he could will the truth out of him.

Ignoring the boys, I crouched by the girl, keeping my left arm close to my body and placed my right hand on her wrist, feeling for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. "She's alive, just about."

Thomas opened his mouth, probably to say something incredibly stupid, and I braced myself.

"What about the note?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh yes, the note. Let's worry about cryptic messages while she's barely breathing."

He crossed his arms, digging in. "I think you should worry about it now."

"Course you do," I muttered, standing up and turning to Newt. "He's not wrong though. We won't last forever if we keep playing this game."

Thomas stormed out of the Med-jack hut, and before Newt or Minho could react, I was already on his tail.

"Where the bloody hell are you going?" Minho called after him.

Thomas kept walking, anger practically radiating off him. "Back into the maze."

I let out a sharp whistle, and Minho shouted, "Hey, genius! You just got out. Now you wanna dive back in?"

Thomas stopped, turning on us with wild determination. "Newt said no one's ever seen a Griever and lived to tell about it, right?"

I exchanged a look with Minho, our minds immediately jumping to the countless times we had faced those mechanical nightmares.

"Not quite true," I said, smirking slightly. "We've seen plenty."

Thomas glared at me. "Well, now we've killed one. You're telling me you're not even a little bit curious?"

"Oh, I'm curious all right." I paused, giving him a sharp look. "Curious to know how you plan on surviving when the next one decides to eat your face."