Thomas was screaming.
The night had passed with all of us huddled in the Homestead, too scared to leave. Thomas had been taken by the Med-jacks, and had been given the Grief serum. His screams were agonizing to listen to. Hearing Ben and Alby had been bad enough. But Thomas was my friend, and each time he screamed, worry stabbed my chest.
Minho spent nearly all his time in the Maze Room, the door locked. He wouldn't let me in. Chuck spent his time silently Slopping, the fear never leaving his eyes. Newt stayed in his room in the Homestead. Every time I saw him, I couldn't help but notice the shadows haunting his face. Alby. I knew they'd been close. I could almost feel his pain.
The rest of us continued our normal jobs. I couldn't see the point, when the Grievers were going to come back and kill us all. But what else was there to do?
I couldn't focus. I kept thinking of the boys who had been taken. Zart, Will, Clint... They'd deserved to get out of this place. They'd deserved to know what they were a part of. What WICKED was doing to them. And now WICKED had killed them with their savage monsters.
Slamming my shovel on the ground, I made my way to the Homestead.
I walked up the stairs quietly, trying not to disturb Jeff with his screaming patient. My heart ached for Thomas. Whatever he was going through--the pain, the memories--he didn't deserve to have to go through the Changing. He'd done it for all our sakes. So that we could escape.
We needed to escape.
The door to Newt's room creaked open slowly as I pushed on it, wondering if I was making a huge mistake. But I needed to see him, to help him, somehow. I couldn't stand watching his pain. He'd lost his best friend. That wasn't something you just bounced back from. I couldn't imagine how he felt. He didn't stop me as I walked in and shut the door; instead, he just stared blankly at the wall. He barely glanced at me as he spoke. "Hey."
Tears burning at the back of my throat, I sat down beside him on his bed and took his hand between both of mine. "How are you feeling?"
He avoided my gaze. "How does it bloody look?"
The sharpness of his tone hurt. But I didn't blame him. I wasn't the one who'd had to watch my best friend be taken by a shuck Griever.
"We'll get out," I murmured. "We'll make sure he didn't die in vain."
He didn't answer, but turned to face me. I could see the phantom tears swimming in his eyes. I placed a hand on his shoulder, my heart breaking for him. "Newt--"
And then we were kissing. It was nothing like the last time; it was fast and rough and fierce, his hands tangling in my hair, my fingers digging into the hard muscle of his shoulder. We slowly fell back onto the bed. Everywhere I was pressed against him--chest, lips, tongue, abdomen, hips -- electricity fizzled between us. Shuck. Oh, shuck. Consciousness slipped away until I was floating, floating in flame and heat and nothingness. The scent of wind and grass clung to his hair, winding its sweet smell across my senses. How was this possible? I wondered dimly somewhere in the back of my mind. I'd known this guy for a month. Secretly stealing glances when he wasn't looking, I now realized. Secretly admiring him from afar. Secretly longing. And now? That same guy was on top of me. The way he had been the day Chuck had sent me to spy on him in the bathroom, and he'd chased me outside and sent the two of us crashing to the ground. Only now, there was no embarrassment, no fear, nothing.
I liked this. I liked being kissed by him, the taste, the smell, the feel of him.
Everything else disappeared.
Yes, terrible things would happen. More people would die. It was likely that we would too. Eventually. But just for a little while...
I let everything fade away.
Until I heard footsteps outside the room.
§ § §
Someone had knocked me out.
I groaned, blinking before opening my eyes. I was in the Slammer.
What the actual shuck?
I sat up. Thomas was also in the Slammer, looking depressed as crap. At least he was awake--he seemed to have recovered somewhat from the Changing. "Dude," I muttered. "What happened?"
"Gally's taken control."
Newt's voice sent a shiver of warmth down my spine. I looked at the door. Through the crossed bars, I could see Newt, Minho, and Chuck looking down at us. Gally. Taken control. Crap. He'd get us all killed. I couldn't believe he'd interrupted us during an obviously private time just to throw me in the slammer.
"Dude," Chuck said to Thomas, his voice fierce. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"He was right," Thomas whispered. We all looked at him questioningly, and he continued. "It's my fault we're all here. WICKED... They are experimenting on us. I remember all of you disappearing, one by one, every month. Like clockwork." He looked positively miserable.
"Thomas," Minho said quietly. "What are you talking about?"
Thomas buried his face in his hands. "I'm with them, guys. I'm on their side. WICKED's. Everything I've done to try to help you guys... It doesn't matter." He looked at me. "And you, too. You helped them."
It was like an ice arrow had pierced my heart and frozen my blood. "No."
"Yes." He kept shaking his head, as if trying to deny what he had seen.
I turned to face him fully. "You shouldn't have stung yourself. What good has it done? You look terrible."
"It doesn't matter," he repeated. "They won't let us out."
For a moment, there was only quiet. Quiet while we pondered our thoughts. I racked my brain, trying to think of how I could possibly have helped WICKED, yet not remember a thing about them.
Then Newt broke the silence. "You're right."
I faced him, but his intense gaze was fixed on Thomas. "It doesn't matter. Any of it."
"Newt--" I started, but he went on.
"The people we were before the Maze--they don't even exist anymore. What does matter is who we are now and what we do now."
"But if none of this had happened, Alby might still be alive," Thomas said in a hushed voice.
Newt pressed his lips together. "Maybe. But if we do nothing, that means Alby died for nothing. And I can't have that. If he were here, he would have been telling you the same thing, Tommy." He leaned his face closer to the bars. "Pick your ass up and finish what you started."
Thomas stared up at his friend.
I smiled as a determined expression crossed his gaze.
