Night Visions (TMR) (Newtmas)

23

Even though the whole Glade was inside the Homestead now and such a change must've been a complete chaos, there was a disturbing silence hanging over them. When everyone was settled, Thomas found himself upstairs with Newt, Alby and Minho, and they were finally able to set down their discussion.

Alby opposed to everything Thomas said, unwilling to try to run at night. Thomas found himself rolling his eyes to Minho several times, tired of such a negative attitude. He felt sorry for the leader, considering his weary look of depression and what the Changing had done to him, but he also felt fed up of getting excuses to stick to the Glade. It wasn't a safe place anymore, so they must try to get out instead of trying to stay by all means.

Newt and Minho, on the other hand, were on Thomas' side. Minho even wanted to stay out for whole days. "With open Doors and no sunset, there's no point in coming back," he explained.

"No way," Alby said. "We have the Homestead to hide in—and if that ain't workin', the Map Room and the Slammer. We can't freaking ask people to go out there and die, Minho! Who'd volunteer for that?"

"Me," the Keeper said. "And Thomas."

Feeling three pairs of eyes on him, Thomas simply nodded. He was scared to death, yet exploring the Maze was something he'd wanted to do from the first time he'd heard of it.

"I will if I have to," Newt said, surprising Thomas. Even though they hadn't ever talked about it since he helped the older boy out of the forest, his limp was a constant reminder that something horrible had happened in the Maze to him. He hadn't told Thomas yet, but he could only guess that it had to do with his inner insecurity and depressive mood. "And I'm sure all the Runners'll do it."

"With your bum leg?" Alby asked, a bitter laughing escaping his lips.

Newt's nostrils widened, and he then looked to the ground. "Well, I don't feel good askin' Gladers to do something if I won't bloody do it myself. Alby, you gotta start talkin' reason. What's wrong with you? Are you tellin' me we have a choice any other than tryin' to solve this? Shoud we just sit around and wait to be snuffed by the Grievers, is it?"

Alby finally took a deep breath, then looked at each of them carefully. "You guys know I'm screwed up. Seriously, I'm... Sorry. I shouldn't be the leader anymore. I ain't saying that we should switch or any of that klunk. I just don't trust myself. I need you guys to make the decisions."

Thomas could see that Minho and Newt were just as startled as he was. "Uh... okay," Newt said slowly. "We'll make it work. I promise. You'll see."

Alby ended up in charge of the Maps, swearing that he'd work every Glader to the bone studying them. Even though all of them could hear the Grievers moaning out, the leader of the Glade insisted on getting to the Map Room to study what could be their only chance of escaping. Thomas couldn't believe the sudden burst of bravery, though he felt relieved. He was just too sick of the contention.

They were going to work their way out of that Maze.

No one really talked. It was strange to know that the sky should be darkening, stars rising and moon peeking, for the night when they only had the pale, dull gray light. The Gladers settled themselves with pillows and blankets, and even though everyone was trying to sleep, it seemed impossible, with the Grievers purring and moaning in the distance, closer and closer each time they whined. Almost everyone had an emergency flashlight by their side; Newt had ordered all lights extinguished. Thomas understood him; there was no need to attract more attention. They had barricaded the windows, put furniture in front of doors, handed knives out...

But Thomas didn't feel safe.

Chuck had ended up in a different room, and he could picture the boy crying, squeezing his blankets to his chest like a teddy bear. The image disturbed Thomas so deeply that he tried to replace it, but he couldn't. Chuck kept on popping up whenever he closed his eyes to blink.