The Glader

The Idiot Hero

Darkly satisfied with Dave's body, the Grievers left Thomas's still form where he lay. Clicking, they withdrew, leaving a sickly silence in their place.

I raced to Tommy's crumpled body as fast as I could move with my limp, sensing rather than seeing that Chuck, Teresa, Minho and Clint were pushing and shoving to follow.

Thomas was lying in a pool of his own blood, moaning softly. His head lolled limply against the ground as his eyes began to roll backwards. I grabbed him by the shoulders. We needed to get him to infirmary, now. "Get his legs!" I yelled.

Minho obeyed, and we hefted him down the hall— with him as lifeless as a doll, looking far too still. After we dropped him down on the couch, I found the energy to yell out. "What were you doing! How could you be so bloody stupid?" Had he been trying to kill himself? What had happened to getting out of the Maze? What had happened to him being the better Runner than I ever could be?

Tommy's eyes fluttered weakly, "No... Newt... you don't understand."

"Shut up!" I growled, "Don't waste your energy!"

Clint knelt next to me, the grim picture of a hospice medic as he ran his hand along Thomas's arms, feeling for injury. "He's been stung dozens of times," he announced, his face grave.

"Is he going to be alright?" Chuck asked, his voice high pitched with worry.

"Someone go get Grief Serum!" I snapped, turning. Not Tommy. This couldn't be happening now, after everything. 

Obeying quickly, Jeff came running with the syringe, which he stuck straight into Tommy's arm.

As he started to lose consciousness, the last thing Thomas said was, "Don't worry... I did it on purpose..."

I put my face in my hands and cried.

***

"I can't believe he did that!" I yelled, pacing back and forth around the infirmary.

Minho's reply was cut short as Thomas screamed, his whole form wracked with pain.

"I mean, I never thought the shank would try something like that! The bloody idiot!"

"You think he was trying to kill himself?" Minho asked quietly.

"Yes... no... I dunno," I said, my fingers tangling in my hair, "I hate the buggin' changin'." Then an idea hit me like a ton of bricks. "Oh, the bloody stupid shank!" I growled, "The brilliant bloody stupid shank."

"What?"

"He was trying to get back his memories!" I said, "So he got himself stung!"

Of course.

I didn't know wether I wanted to smack myself or smack Thomas. This was exactly the sort of buggin' idiotic hero-type thing he'd do.