A Battle With Hope (Newtmas)

Chapter 9

Newt's eyes strained as he peered desperately into the darkness. He knew that they wouldn't be there. No one ever made it through a night in the maze, but for some reason he couldn't squash that little bit of hope that was blooming in his chest. The doors continued to grind and clank as they opened. It was torture, standing there, waiting. Suddenly, Newt's gaze rested upon two figures. His legs went weak as a roar erupted from the crowd. 'They made it!' Chuck screamed next to him. 'They bloody made it!'. Newt stood on wobbly-legs, shell-shocked, as the rest of the Gladers ran forward, embracing Minho and Thomas. As Newt stood there staring, he saw Clint, the Glade's med-jack, or medic, run forward and take something from Thomas. Newt was shocked to see that it was Alby. Newt watched on as a million thoughts raced through his mind. Alby was alive. Minho was alive. Tommy was alive. Newt blinked rapidly, still unable to move.

The crowd were yelling and cheering, an excited buzz hovering in the air, as they moved towards Newt. Minho was the first to reach Newt, grasping him tight and slapping on the back.
'What's with you?! Where's my congratulations? I know you missed this pretty face in the Glade last night!' Minho laughed. Newt hugged him back fiercely, relieved to see his friend was still in good spirits. Once Minho released Newt, Newt had the chance to study his friend. Covered in scratches, dry blood and dirt, Minho, while cheerful, had clearly had a rough night.
'Minho, go with Clint and Jeff while they take Alby, and get yourself fixed up, then I want you to meet me in Alby's room. We need to talk'
Minho laughed, 'Well, looks like being in charge suits someone!' and he dragged himself away on tired feet, following the two med-jacks who were carrying Alby in-between them. Newt turned his attention back to the other boy that had emerged from the maze, Thomas. Surrounded by Gladers, Thomas was being shot at with question after question and had Chuck standing at his side, gazing up at the new boy in clear admiration.

'I can't believe you shanks made it!' Chuck beamed at Thomas. Thomas grinned down at him and then stepped forward, away from the crowd and Chuck, and stepped right up to Newt. Before Newt knew it, he was enclosed in Thomas' arms. He breathed in a sigh of relief, his anger and grief momentarily forgotten as soon as Thomas wrapped his arms around him. Newt breathed him in, he smelled of sweat, blood and something sweet, almost like grass. Newt allowed himself to relax into Thomas' lean, hard body for a moment before he snapped himself out of his thoughts, coughing and slapping Thomas on the back.
'You made it Tommy! How the bloody hell did you shanks managed that?!' He asked Thomas, while the other boys watched on. Thomas rubbed the back of his neck, studying Newt's face.
'I'll tell you everything, but can I please get something to eat?' Newt smiled, glad to see his friend still had his appetite. Newt herded the rest of the boys off to work, even managing to convince Chuck that he could speak to Thomas as lunch time, and headed off to the homestead with Thomas to get some food.

While they walked, Newt's relief was quickly overtaken by the anger and hurt that had plagued Newt all night. Thomas had broken the rules, he had run into that maze when he knew it was not only dangerous, but forbidden. Instead of confronting Thomas, Newt decided to wait until he had heard the full story and then speak to Thomas about his actions.

Newt and Thomas ate quickly and in silence. Newt was anxious to get upstairs and see how Alby was fairing and Thomas seemed exhausted from his night in the maze. Once the boys had finished eating, both of them stood up and made their way upstairs. As they got further and further down the upstairs hallway, they could hear a long, drawn out moaning sound coming from one of the rooms. Newt's brow furrowed as he recognised the sound. Alby. The boys rushed into the room to find two defeated looking Gladers- Clint and Jeff. 'Clint, Jeff!' Newt barked, 'What's going on? What's wrong with him?' Clint hung his head sadly. 'He's been stung'. Newt's stomach dropped. If there was one thing every Glader knew, it was that being stung was worse than being dead. Newt grimaced, recalling the countless Gladers who had lain in the same bed as Alby was currently occupying, each of them moaning, screaming, and writhing in agony.
'Is that bad?' Thomas questioned, his voice shaking. Newt turned to him with a grimace.

'Yes Tommy. It's bad.'

Newt began to head over to the bed, grabbing a wet cloth on his way. He called over his shoulder.
'Tommy. Go find Minho and meet me in the next room. I'll be in in a minute'. Newt heard Thomas' footsteps slowly growing quieter as he left the room. Newt sat beside his best friend on the bed, taking the wet cloth and pressing it to Alby's head. Alby moaned, his eyes fluttering, turning his head to Newt. Newt sighed, his heart aching as he saw the pain contorting Alby's face. He knew his best friend didn't have much longer.
'Keep him comfortable. I'll be back tonight' he said softly to the med-jacks, standing up and leaving the room.

Newt made his way into the next room to find Newt and Thomas sprawled on the floor, eyes closed. 'Gladers! No time for sleep yet. We need to talk.' Both Gladers on the floor jumped at the sound of Newt's voice, sitting up. Newt joined them on the floor and looked from Thomas to Minho.
'Alright shanks. Tell me. How the bloody hell did you survive a night in the maze?'