The Maze Runner Imagines

Immunity | Newt

Spoilers of The Death Cure ahead. Read at your own risk.

"Newt," Ratman called.

A gasp escaped my lips. The list of names continued, but I was too busy worrying about Newt to process any other words exiting from anyone else's mouths. I didn't immediately turn towards him. First, I stood still--shocked. Tears began to form and fall involuntary down my hot, scratched cheeks and onto my pink and bruised lips, then down to the ground before me

Once I turned to him I saw Newt starting blankly at Ratman. I moved around the crowd and walked closer to him.

"Newt," I called but it sounded only as an echo in my mind. My brain was still processing the new information brought upon us. My mind was running in circles. I felt dizzy instantly--a familiar effect like the night I drank too much of Gally's special drink. I felt like collapsing, but I continued towards Newt.

Instantly, my arms wrapped around him. I held him closer than ever before. My best friend wasn't immune. He was a "control variable." Rage began to spark in me as I held Newt in my arms.

Once I let go, he held me at shoulders length.
"Hey, I'm okay," his eyes weren't glossy like mine, no sign of tears or anything for that matter.

"Newt," I searched for the correct words to say.
I'm sorry you're not immune.

I'm sorry that you're slowly going to go crazy.

I'm sorry.

"Shh, I knew that bloody thing was spreading quickly. It was only a matter of time before I went with them too. Now, this is just confirming everything," he said to me. I stared at him. Newt didn't deserve any of this. Not the maze, the scorch, the disease. None of it.

Thomas, Minho, Frypan, and other Gladers crowded around Newt. Most of them muttered "I'm sorry," but Newt only nodded then walked away. Thomas, Minho, and I followed.

"Newt, man," Thomas began, but I knew that he, as well, was at a loss for the correct words.

"Tommy, this doesn't change anything. Let's just move on, okay? Let's continue with the plan, that's what we should focus on." He looked at both Thomas, Minho, and I.

I nodded. I knew that Newt was dealing with this more than it seemed like he was. He needed time. I needed time. We all needed time. We needed a distraction, and that distraction was our plan to get out of this shuck place. First the Maze, then the damned Scorch, and now this rathole.

When would it end?