The Other Side - A Newt Fanfiction

Chapter Twenty Five: This Is Not Goodbye

Quickly slipping into the pants of my WICKED uniform and buttoning them up, I walk to the wooden-framed floor mirror in the corner of my assigned bedroom, examining myself in the glass that has a spider-web-like crack spreading from the bottom left corner and up to about a third of the mirror itself.
Looking myself up and down in my tank top and the pants, I scoff softly as I examine the WICKED label. "Shucking wicked alright..." I mutter to myself before reaching to the bed to my left to grab the uniform's jacket; however, in the corner of my eye, I notice my tank top slide up slightly in the mirror, exposing my mid-drift just enough to unveil the discolored skin on my right side, causing me to stop in my tracks.
Slowly letting go of the coat, leaving it on top of the bedding, I look back into the mirror, lifting the bottom of my shirt a little more to scan my eyes over the strange, faded scarring on my right side.
It had always been there to my knowledge. When I came up in the Maze, I already had the huge, ugly patch of discoloration there, stretching from just below one of my upper right ribs all the way down to my right hip. Of course, it's faded over the years, but, even then, it was fairly faded. Fairly old.
It's like discovering a bruise that you never knew was there, but it's a hundred times stranger because it had to have been a pretty bad injury to make such a massive patch of damaged tissue on my body, and yet, no matter how hard I try, how far I dig into the crevices of my brain, the memories of the incident will never return, all thanks to WICKED taking my shucking memories and throwing me into a Maze for science.
However, as I examine the odd pigmentation of my flesh, I feel something that I have never felt before: the scarring gives me a sensation of familiarity. Of resemblance. Not in the obvious manner of how I've seen the scar there for years, but in the manner of which it reminds me of something else, but I can't put my finger on it.
Tilting my head to the side curiously, I stare at my reflection with puzzlement. I then glance down directly at my side to get a better look.
Biting my lip as I examine the scarring, I'm broken from my daze with a jolt when there is a knock at the door.
"(y/n), are you about ready to go?" I hear Newt's muffled accent from outside the door.
"Yeah, just..." my voice trails off as I look back at my reflection, pulling the bottom of my tank top back down. "I'll be out in a second."
I hear the doorknob turn with a squeak just before the door itself is slowly pushed open, revealing Newt in his red and black WICKED uniform. He stands in the doorway, holding his mask in his right hand. "Is something wrong?"
"No, no." I say reassuringly, shaking my head as I turn to him. "I'm fine."
Pursing his lips together, his eyes reading me in suspicion, he asks, "Are you sure?"
Turning to my bed, I pick up the WICKED jacket and slide my arms into the navy blue uniform. "Just nervous, I guess. That's all." Which isn't necessarily a lie.
Nodding understandingly, Newt limps to my side. "I have something that might help with that."
As I turn to look at Newt, I can see that his skin has gotten paler than it normally is, and there seems to be black circles forming under his eyes. "And what's that?" I ask.
With his free hand, Newt reaches into the pocket of his uniform, pulling out a familiar accessory.
"Your red bandanna?" I ask, eyeing the red cloth.
He nods. "I kept it with me ever since I got it, back when we first got things rolling with the Right Arm, whether I was wearing it or it was in my pocket."
Now that he mentions it, I do remember seeing him with it very frequently over the past six months. It'd hang out of his coat pocket or was tied around his thigh or arm or he would wrap it around his face. No wonder I was so quick to recognize it.
He even had it with him the nights he was upset.
Lying in my hammock, I stare at the moon out of the small window of our shelter, listening to the sounds of the beach, the waves softly rising and falling upon the sandy shore, creating a simple, rhythmic lullaby.
However, a shift within the Right Arm shelter, a small stirring motion, interrupts the gentle music of nature. Furrowing my brows together, I quietly lift my head, scanning the moonlit room of sleeping campers suspiciously; however, they all seem to remain sound asleep.
Further stirring breaks the silence, and, this time, I can locate it: the hammock just beside mine.
Carefully rolling onto my stomach, I peek over the fabric of my hammock to see Newt lying in his own, his right arm behind his head as he stares out the window. His face is stone cold, and he clenches his jaw tightly, making his jaw even more distinctive and sharp. Although he maintains his strong stature, the pale moonlight seeping in through the small window unveils his glossy eyes.
My eyes catch a glimpse of small movement, flickering to his left hand as he fidgets with his red bandanna, playing with the soft material between his fingers.
"Newt?" I whisper softly.
He takes in a deep breath through his nose, snapping out of his daze and propping himself up on his elbows in his hammock, shifting his brown eyes to me. "(y/n)?" He clears his throat, creasing his eyebrows together. "What are you doing up?"
I shrug slightly. "Can't sleep. What are you doing up?"
"I can't sleep either." He mumbles, huffing a sigh as he lies back again, staring at the ceiling.
I frown slightly. "Are you alright?"
He props his head up with his right arm behind it again. "Hm?" He hums, somewhat numb in his tone.
"I asked if you're alright?" I whisper, sitting upright in my hammock and kicking my legs over the side.
"Oh, yeah..." he nods. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Staring at Newt, I look him up and down suspiciously. I don't believe that. Not one bit.
Drawing his brows together as he stares back at me, he manages to laugh weakly. "What?"
"You're thinking about Minho," I whisper, "aren't you?"
His weak smile slowly fades, and, sighing heavily, he sits upright, kicking his feet over the side of his hammock. "Yeah, I am..." he whispers, rubbing the back of his neck. Staring at the floor, he exhales somberly.
Frowning sympathetically, I quietly rise to my feet and walk to his hammock. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"
Newt lifts his head to look up at me with his big, brown eyes, seeming to be partially taken aback. Nodding slightly as he presses his lips tightly together, he scoots over a little.
Sighing softly, I take a seat beside him, gently resting a hand on his back and rubbing it consolingly.
A few moments of silence pass.
"I just," Newt pauses just after speaking up, struggling to find the right words to explain his thoughts, "I can't stop thinking about what WICKED might be doing to him right this moment..."
"Minho is strong, Newt." I whisper reassuringly. "I know he'll be able to pull through. Besides, we've started creating a plan, and it seems to be without loopholes at the moment, so I think we'll be able to get him soon."
"But how soon is that?" He mumbles, lifting his eyes to me. "We're here, safe on a beach, while they've got Minho locked up, probably getting tortured." He sighs heavily, running his fingers through his hair.
I purse my lips together, continuing to rub his back gently. He does have a point.
A second long stretch of silence passes.
Frowning, Newt looks down as his fumbles with his bandanna in his hands. "You don't have to comfort me, you know." He forces a pathetic laugh, turning his head to me. "I mean, they've got Sonya and Aris, too. If anything, I should be comforting you."
I shake my head. "You have every right to be upset, too, Newt. Besides, you have consoled me when I've allowed my worries of Sonya and Aris to swallow me whole. Several times." I whisper softly, looking into his brown eyes. "He's one of your best friends."
"And Sonya's one of yours."
"That doesn't mean you don't deserve consolation."
Pursing his lips together, Newt mumbles, "You should really get some sleep."
"Not happening." I say stubbornly, shaking my head. "You had said in the Scorch something along the lines of, 'I'm staying up until you fall asleep, and I don't care if I'm up all bloody night'. Well, that's my mindset right this moment."
Newt opens his mouth slightly to protest, but he slowly closes his lips within a second, deciding against it. He stares into my eyes, not saying a word. I can see the gears turning in his head as he ponders on what to say next. "(y/n)?" He mumbles softly.
"Hm?"
"I've been meaning to tell you something, but I..." No further words come, his voice trailing off. It's almost as if the words them self are choking him.
I draw my brows together. "What is it, Newt?"
Sighing heavily in a manner of defeat, he shakes his head, looking back down at his hands with a forced laugh. "Never mind..."
"What?" I frown in concern, leaning a little closer to him. "What is it?"
"It's nothing..." he manages to laugh weakly as he balls the bandanna up and squeezes it tightly in his right hand.
I frown. "Newt-"
"It's nothing." He repeats, shifting his eyes to mine. "Trust me."
"It became my lucky bandanna in a way. It's bloody childish, I know." Newt chuckles softly, offering it to me. "I think you should hold onto it."
My face falls, taken aback slightly. "What? Why?" I ask, shaking my head. "No, I can't take that from you. It's obviously special to you-"
"I wouldn't trust anyone else with it, (y/n)." He says confidently, a small smile tugging on the left corner of his lips. "I want you to hold onto it. Then, you'll have nothing to be nervous about." He holds it out to me again. "Take it."
Sighing softly, I take the bandanna and put it away safely in my back pant pocket.
"Besides," he says, "you'll basically have a part of me with you if we get separated."
"Yeah, but that's not going to happen." I say quickly.
He nods reassuringly, though I do not feel any reassurance. "Come on, they're waiting for us."
Zipping up the jacket of my navy blue and black WICKED uniform, I quickly turn to grab my black gloves off of the bed, sliding them on as I follow Newt out of the room.
We rush downstairs to the others as they stand around the table where we had interrogated Teresa, Brenda and Fry bundled up in their coats with their arms folded, Gally and Thomas in their uniforms, and Teresa sitting in a chair between Gally and Thomas.
"About time you two shanks got here. How long does it take to dress into disguises?" Gally says, standing taller as we stride to the table, squeezing into the huddle. "Alright, so here's what we're doing: I will be taking Teresa through the front, northern entrance of the facility. Newt and (y/n), you two will come in through the south doors. Thomas, we'll need you going in from below." He explains, handing Newt and Thomas each a map with a different route scribbled on each one. "Brenda, Fry, you two have your routes and locations plotted out, yes?"
Smirking, Brenda nods.
"We're ready." Fry grins.
"Good that." Gally nods, pulling his mask over his face. "Let's show those shanks what we're shucking made of."
• • •
Tucking my hair into the black fabric mask that Gally had given me, I then place the WICKED helmet on my head, swinging my Launcher by it's strap to my front side and holding it securely.
Newt, his mask not yet on, looks back at me after peeking around the corner of the alleyway beside our hideout, the blue lights of the city dimly illuminating the alley we stand in. "Ready?" He whispers.
I nod, gripping tightly to my weapon. "Shuck yes."
He manages to smile with rising excitement, pulling his helmet over his face and holding his launcher tightly, marching out into the passing crowds on the street.
Following behind swiftly, I march to Newt's side, feeling pure adrenaline swelling up inside me. Now is the time to take WICKED down and take back what is ours.
We make our way down the first block, the ocean of healthy faces passing us, some covering their mouths and noses with surgical masks. I can't help but shudder at the sight.
The people in front of us glance back at us over their shoulders. They begin parting ways on the sidewalk, making a path for us 'WICKED officers' to strut past, as if we deserve treatment of respect.
Newt and I exchange a masked, yet knowing, glance before nodding at the people ahead of us in thanks and striding through the open path along the concrete sidewalk.
As we make our way towards the end of the block, the crowds bustle about the city, every individual walking tall as if they are on missions of their own, rushing to any last-minute destinations before curfew.
We approach the first road, stopping at the edge of the sidewalk with a huddle of people, waiting for the sign indicating to cross to light up.
"Did you hear the rumors?" A voice whispers from somewhere in the group, causing Newt and I to exchange an anxious glance before looking ahead again.
"What rumors?" Another replies.
"I heard the Flare might be mutating. That it might have gone airborne."
Gulping, I slowly turn to look at Newt again, who stands tall, staring ahead. I can just imagine his stone-cold expression beneath.
"That's ridiculous. If that was the issue, it would be all over the news. WICKED would have said something."
"I'm not kidding." The first voice protests. "Haven't you noticed that some people have been placed into quarantine that were healthy only a matter of days ago? I mean, people are beginning to wear flu masks around in public to take precautions."
"They're taking precautions over something that is not even an issue. Besides, the virus is different with some people. The people who were in these walls that were already infected got someone else sick, and then that person got another person sick, and so on. Those people placed into quarantine probably hung around someone who was Infected."
The sign switches from 'Stop' to 'Walk', and the group of people waiting begin to cross, Newt and I marching across the road.
"But I saw three different people get taken in just yesterday with my own eyes! That's half of what I would see in a typical week."
It takes a moment for the second voice to respond, as if they're hesitant to reply. "WICKED would have said something." They repeat confidently.
That is the end of the conversation for Newt and I as we reach the sidewalk on the other side and stride down the concrete, leaving behind the two conversing individuals as they turn off right.
Airborne. That's how Newt managed to get sick.
"It's sad that these people are so bloody blind to the truth about WICKED." I hear Newt mutter from my left as we make our way down the block.
I frown, although no one can see it, and I nod slowly in agreement.
As we stride down the second block, a burst of faint cries breaks out in the distance, in the very direction that we are heading.
The waves of individuals that pass merely glance in the direction of the screams as if they're numb to it; however, I notice a mother quickly grasp her daughter's hand, yanking her behind as she squeezes past people, turning on her heels and rushing in the opposite direction of the cries.
"But, mama, what's wrong with that person?" The little girl asks, maybe four or five, as she struggles to stay on her own feet behind her mother's long strides, her dark, curly hair bouncing about.
"They're sick, baby." The mother mutters anxiously, shoving past between Newt and I and causing the two of us to stop in our tracks completely, watching the mother and daughter run off.
"Like daddy?"
That response triggers a pang of pain in my heart.
"Yes, baby..." I hear her mother respond as she disappears into the crowd. "Like daddy."
Staring at the blur of faces that now block the mother and daughter from our vision, I slowly turn my head to Newt, watching him stare off after the two that are now long gone, deeply impacted by the mere glimpse into someone else's life as they passed.
Clearing my throat, I stand a little taller. "Should we reroute a little?" I ask Newt. "Avoid the infected at the next block or so?"
It takes Newt a few moments to respond, and I watch his chest rise and fall as he takes a deep breath in and out. Turning to look at me, he shakes his head. "No. We've got to get to the facility as quickly as possible, and that's our fastest route."
Nodding slowly, I avert my glance down the crowded concrete ahead, staring at the path that lies between us and the cries that continue to echo from down the road, bouncing off the walls of the tightly compacted buildings. "Are you sure?" I ask, turning my head to Newt.
He nods, looking ahead, though his voice sounds hesitant as he says, "Yeah... Yeah, I'm sure." With that, he begins to walk ahead through the crowd.
Taking in a deep breath, I mutter to myself, "Great... Walking straight into trouble, and we're not even at the facility yet..." Forcing myself to stand taller, I follow after Newt, making my way through the overwhelming abundance of people.
As we approach the end of the block, the 'Walk' sign illuminates, and I notice that a large crowd is crossing in the opposite direction of Newt and I, anxiously mumbling to one another, obviously determined to get far away from the chaotic scene behind them.
I feel my breath hitch in my throat as the person's screams get louder while we step onto the third block, making our way down the sidewalk.
I begin to notice that the path feels less crowded as the cries increase in volume, and, suddenly, a WICKED van comes swerving around the corner from behind us, sirens blaring as it zooms past us down the road. It pulls over to the side of the road about fifty feet away.
Gulping, I have to force myself to keep walking straight ahead, and, eventually, the crowd of people completely disperses, everyone that was nearby now getting as far away as they can, and, along the empty sidewalk, I see a man getting shoved to his knees to the ground on the right side of the cement by an officer, just in front of the doors to a cafe. Four other officers quickly jump out of the van to provide aid.
Even at a few yards away, I can see the man's sunken-in eyes and veiny skin as he screams and lashes, trying to free his arms from the guard's hold behind him. "LET ME GO! LET ME GO! I'M HEALTHY, I TELL YOU! I'M PERFECTLY HEALTHY!"
The sight sends a shiver down my spine, and I defensively tighten my hold on my Launcher as Newt and I slowly walk closer to the man, given that we have to pass him.
One of the officers yanks out a clear hazard mask and forces it over the ill man's head as he screams and shouts, fighting to break free.
"I'M FINE! I'M FINE!" He sobs. "I CAN'T GET ANYONE SICK BECAUSE I'M NOT SICK! I'M NOT!"
Newt, staring at the man in horror, I'm sure, limps to my right side so that he is now closest to the soon-to-be-Crank, and, switching his grip on his Launcher from his left hand to his right, he protectively rests his left hand on my lower back, guiding me alongside him as we pass the Crank.
This minor gesture of protection sends a sensation of slight ease through my body, as it always does.
We swiftly stride past the screaming man and the WICKED patrols.
Once we're out of earshot from the guards and man, I clear my throat. Newt's hand does not leave the small of my back. "Newt," I mutter as we leave the Crank and other WICKED guards behind us, continuing down the sidewalk, "it's going to be suspicious with a WICKED patrol officer making physical contact with another like this."
"I don't bloody care." He mumbles, turning his head towards me as he limps closely beside me. "You said you trust me with your life, so I'm going to make sure that I keep it safe."
• • •
We finally catch WICKED's towering, shimmering building in our sights to the right once we've reached the end of the tenth block, and we quickly turn and stride through the crowd, the two of us picking up the pace slightly as our anticipation builds up.
Quickly and cautiously, we squeeze through the bustling ocean of people along the sidewalk, striding towards the north side of the building and slowing to a stop as we approach the front, glass door entrances of the facility.
Huffing a heavy sigh, I watch various doctors go in and out through the doors as I listen to the surrounding sounds of the city. In the midst of all of the bustling, I can hear, 'Warning. Warning. Warning.' coming from somewhere above, higher up on the facility itself. Tilting my head all the way back to examine the building, I watch the gigantic screen on the front shift its display from an ad to, obviously, a warning.
"Holy shucking..." my voice trails off as I gape, causing Newt too look up at the display, too.
The screen now says, 'WANTED: SCIENTIFIC ESCAPEES FOUND ON THE OUTER PERIMETERS OF THE CITY. IF FOUND, IMMEDIATELY REPORT TO WICKED.' Below the text, there are pictures of Thomas, Newt, and myself on the screen. The photo to the far left is a head shot of Thomas, and he wears a black t-shirt that reads 'Property of WICKED. Group A, Subject A2. To be killed by Group B.', and it looks like his photo was taken a little less than a year ago. Beside his picture is Newt's head shot, except his label reads, 'Subject A5. The Glue.', and his picture looks like it was taken about three and a half, maybe four, years ago. The third image is a head shot of myself in the same shirt, looking around the age I was when I first arrived in the Maze, but my label says, 'Group B, Subject B3. The Gift.' The fourth, and last, photo beside mine is a hidden camera shot that is zoomed into the crowd of Infected, revealing Thomas, Newt, and I. By the looks of it, it was taken seconds before the missiles were shot at us when we were outside the city because Jorge and Brenda are there, too.
"They forgot Fry, those slintheads." I mutter, gesturing towards the screen where I can clearly make out the back of the boy's head as he turns to look out into the crowd, opposite of the camera. I look to Newt. "And how did they catch our chips and not Fry's? Or Gally's? He was only a few yards behind us."
"They're scanners from the Bergs must have only caught one of us when we had first arrived to the outskirts of the city." He mumbles. "Then the cameras showed them the rest."
Frowning, I look back at the screen. "And what the shuck is 'The Gift' supposed to mean?"
There's a long pause before Newt mumbles, nearly inaudible, "'The Glue'?"
I look over to the boy as he stares up at the screen.
He turns to me, returning the glance. Sighing as he shrugs it off, he nods towards his left. "We need to get going."
Nodding in agreement, I clasp my Launcher in both of my hands, looking back up at the screen once more before jogging after Newt down the sidewalk, making our way around the WICKED tower and heading towards the backside, where the south doors are.
As we finally approach the back entrance, the two of us slow to a casual pace, calmly marching alongside other officers and scientists in lab coats as they enter or exit the building. Newt and I stride through the glass doors, and my heart skips a beat as soon as I spot the scanners ahead, stomach tying into knots. The six white scanners stand about five feet out of the slick, tile flooring, and they are spaced out just enough for bodies to stride past. There is definitely no way to get around them.
The chip removal better have worked.
Holding my breath, I look at Newt as he hesitates slightly, slowing to a stop in front of the scanners.
He turns to glance over his shoulder, back at me, clearly just as worried.
As I stare at Newt, I catch a glimpse of another guard in the side of my eye, the tall, armed, masked figure tilting his head to the side at us suspiciously as he stands along the wall.
Eyes widening, I nudge Newt forward slightly, trying to act casual whilst expressing to Newt that we need to get going.
Turning forward, Newt scans the crowd, seeming to notice the same officer because he stands taller, looking straight ahead, and swiftly strides through the scanners. He gets clearance, the green lights in the contraptions illuminating.
Holding my breath, I immediately follow behind Newt, marching through the white scanners, their lights illuminating green with a lighthearted chime to indicate that I'm also in the clear.
I let out a heavy sigh of relief. We're in.
Marching at a steady pace and not looking back at the suspicious guard, Newt and I make our way along the clean, white tile flooring of the the main area of the facility, keeping our attention straight ahead before us as the various doctors and guards walk quickly past.
Standing taller in attempt to embody my disguise, I scan the wide room, desperately searching for any sign of Gally and Teresa.
Blurred faces of scientists and masked officers are all I can see, but I don't have to look back to know that the suspicious guard from the entrance is still staring at us. I can feel his eyes searing into my back.
Suddenly, Newt nudges me with his elbow, and, as soon as I avert my attention to him, he nods in the direction ahead of us, and, following his gesture, I trail my eyes to Teresa as she stiffly strides through the north doors, scanning her thumb on her way in, and a guard escorts her.
Smirking slightly to myself, I quickly walk ahead of Newt, making my way across the main hall swiftly.
The guard, obviously Gally due to their height, holds tightly to Teresa's arm and looks back over his shoulder as he walks in our direction. He manages to turn ahead just before he can walk into Newt and I, freezing in his tracks.
With anxious eyes, Teresa stares at Newt and I, unsure if it's the two of us.
Newt, silently looking the two of them up and down, nods to our right before quickly turning and limping off in that direction.
Gally looks to me and I nod slightly, causing him to turn and push Teresa ahead, the two of them following behind Newt, and I stay close behind Gally, glancing over at the suspicious guard once more to see him finally look away.
Just as our map had indicated, Newt quickly leads us into an eastern hallway, walking down it at a brisk pace before suddenly making a left turn, pushing open a steel door that leads out into a colder, dimly lit area of the facility that opens into a vast, concrete room.
Rushing behind the others, I follow Gally and Teresa as Newt guides them across the long stretch of room, WICKED staff members passing us on the way. He makes a sudden sharp turn to the right, leading us to a steel stairway before hurriedly rushing down the flight.
Gliding my hand along the handrail, I stride down the steps as quickly as I can.
As we make our way to the basement level, we step out into an area that resembles a parking garage; however, while the area ahead and to our right is completely open, there is a wall to our left that is completely made of glass, looking out into the entrance way of the underground level that is mostly populated by WICKED guards. Rushing behind the single-file line, I look through the glass to see vans driving along the path on the opposite side, leaving the parking garage and driving out into the city. The siren lights illuminate as it turns out onto the road, indicating that there is probably another infected caught. My stomach turns as I worry about Frypan and Brenda getting caught, but I force that thought out of my brain before it can get the best of me.
Scanning my eyes along the glass, I spot two, clear sliding doors a few yards down the stretch of glass. That's the entrance that Thomas is supposed to meet us at.
Just in time, one particular WICKED guard in a dark grey and black uniform swiftly rushes to our group's side from the opposite side of the window, strutting alongside the four of us, the glass between us until he can cross through the glass doors. Just as we pass the sliding doors, he steps through to our side and marches out in front of our group. Looking back over his shoulder at the four of us, he nods. Thomas. That's definitely Thomas.
The boy, now taking the lead, strides ahead of us and guides our group to another steel stairway at the opposite end of the garage area, and we all rush up the flight as quickly as possible, making our way up one, two, three stories before stepping onto the second above-ground level, making our way down yet another hall.
The corridor turns right at the end, taking us into the main hall of the second level where scientists rush about, quickly making their way to other areas of the facility where they have business to attend to.
The five of us make our way along the white, clean tile flooring, approaching a line of elevator doors ahead.
As planned, Thomas makes a sudden left turn, walking to the far left elevator. Newt and I break right as Gally and Teresa head to the center lift.
Limping ahead of me, Newt stops in front of the doors at the far right elevator, pushing the upward pointed arrow. The button illuminates in response.
Within seconds, the doors slide open, and two conversing doctors step off of the lift, striding past us. I glance to our left to watch Thomas and Gally and Teresa enter their elevators before Newt and I step into ours.
Turning around to face the doors, I watch Newt as he pushes to button for the twenty sixth level.
Standing tall beside me, Newt returns his grip to his Launcher just as the elevator doors close. The lift jolts to life.
For a split second, I feel flushed with panic, quickly grasping onto the handrail as the image of the internal perspective of the Cage flashes through my brain, and my chest heaves with frantic pants.
I feel a gentle hand rest on my shoulder. "Are you alright?"
Averting my eyes to the boy, forcing my breathing to return to a steady pace, I nod slowly. "Yeah..."
"Reminds you of coming up in the Box, doesn't it?"
Gulping, I nod again as my racing heart begins to calm. "Exactly..."
He glides his hand down my arm. "Luckily, after this, we'll never have to deal with these bloody shanks ever again. No Mazes, no chases in the Scorch, no deceitful, sparkling tower to break into." He says.
I sigh heavily, shoulders sinking. "Yeah..."
He gently brushes his thumb on my arm before pulling his hand away and turning forward. "You know what's strange?"
Tilting my head to the side slightly, I ask. "What's strange?"
"None of us would be together if it weren't for WICKED." He says, turning his head to me again. "So, in a way, I guess they did one good thing."
A few moments pass, the two of us staring at each other's masked faces as we are reminded of the beginning of our lives as WICKED's variables and ponder on the the ironic concept.
Newt looks ahead just as the elevator begins to slow to a halt, the doors slowly sliding open to a level that looks nearly identical to the one we had just left.
Stepping out of the lift, I look right to see the other three exiting theirs, Thomas already rushing towards a steel door at the southern end of the building.
As I swiftly follow behind the others, doing my best to keep up but act natural, I hear Newt beginning to cough from behind me, causing me to glance back at him over my shoulder.
Clearing his throat, he waves his hand as if to say 'I'm fine'.
I nod slightly, though I feel anxiety twist at my stomach, and, turning forward once again and following the others through the steel door, the five of us crowd into a fairly lit, grey, somewhat-compacted stairway that goes up to several different flights, each level above holding two or more doors.
"This way." Thomas says, quickly rushing up the stairs.
I run up the first flight after Gally and Teresa, following closely behind.
Heart beginning to race as the adrenaline swells up inside me, I grip tightly to the side rail in attempt to pull myself whilst running up the steps, doing all that I can to increase my speed.
Minho's only a matter of a few flights away, and so is the Bliss, meaning we'll be able to help Newt in a matter of minutes.
We run up one, two, three, four levels.
As I turn to rush up the fifth, I glance over the railing and notice Newt falling behind, now one and a half flights short of us, and I stop in my tracks, waiting for him to catch up.
His limp must make it hard enough, but he has that shucking virus on top of it.
"Keep going." He calls as he slowly limps up the steps, sounding out of breath.
Pursing my lips together, I shake my head. "We're not separating, remember?" I say, rushing down the flight and meeting him halfway, gently grasping his arm and walking alongside Newt at his own pace.
I hear Gally from two flights up now. "Wait, wait, wait!" He calls to Thomas. "I can use this for Lawrence." He says. There's the sound of a creaky, steel door opening, followed by Gally ordering Teresa to take a seat on the floor where he can see her. Thomas's voice follows has he speaks quickly into his walkie talkie, checking in on Fry and Brenda with each of their routes.
"You really don't have to wait on me..." Newt mumbles as we turn and tread up the next flight. "I'll catch up on my own just fine..."
"Newt, you've got a bad leg, and you're sick. I'm going to help you whether you like it or not."
After a full minute of pulling Newt up the stairs, I finally catch up with the others just in time to see Thomas readying his Launcher and walking up the next flight to check for guards. Gally, now unmasked, fumbles around in something on the concrete wall that resembles a fuse box while Teresa sits on the top of the flight that Newt and I just stepped off of, frowning at Gally with her hands folded on her lap.
As I guide Newt to the bottom of the next flight, Newt breaks into another coughing fit, but it's much worse than the first, and he quickly shoves my hands off of his left arm, leaning over the side rails of the stairs and pulling back his mask just enough to expose his face, coughing violently.
I can see Teresa's face fall as she looks at the boy's appearance, staring at him in concern, lips parting slightly, as he sputters out sick coughs.
As his coughing eases for a brief moment, Newt shifts his eyes to Teresa, meeting her stare, which causes him to turn around and lean his back against the railing, grimacing as he fights off the further coughs itching at his throat and unveiling his face to me.
My eyes widen as I look at him. He's extremely pale now, and the circles under his eyes have gotten much darker. His blonde hair is beginning to soak up with his sweat. However, what really shoots my nerves up is what I spot as my eyes shift to the left side of his jaw, catching a glimpse of faint, light-purple veins creeping out from under the thick neck cover of his uniform.
"Newt?" I swiftly take off my mask, holding it in my right hand as I use my left to touch the side of his face.
Clearing his throat and sputtering a few more coughs, Newt shakes his head, catching his breath through soft wheezes. "I'm fine, I'm fine..."
"No, you're not." I protest, making him look me in the eyes. "Newt, you're getting worse..."
Staring back at me with his big brown eyes, the whites a light shade of pink, he whispers, "I'm going to be alright..."
Frowning as a deep ache invades my heart, I look back at Gally, who's staring at us with an unreadable expression, though his eyes reveal that he's worried. "We're just about there. A few more flights up, and we'll be with Minho, and we'll get ahold of the Serum." He says reassuringly.
Nodding hesitantly, I turn back to Newt, who clenches his jaw tightly as he steadies his breathing. "Are you going to be able to make it up these stairs?"
Although he is obviously straining to fight back further coughs, squeezing his eyes shut, Newt nods rapidly. "Yeah...Yeah, I'll be fine..."
I frown, not believing him at all. "'I'm fine' is the greatest lie in the world..." I mumble, quoting him.
Finally easing up a little bit, Newt opens his eyes to meet with mine again, frowning. "I'll be fine." He repeats.
"Good that because we need to get going." Gally says as he finishes hooking up a strange contraption to the technical box, closing the metal door and pulling his mask back over his face. "Let's go." He says, grabbing Teresa by the arm and pulling her up to her feet before dragging her alongside him up the stairs.
Sighing, I go to grasp Newt's arm, but he quickly pushes my hand away. "No," he says sternly, "I'll be fine."
Staring him in the eyes with pursed lips, feeling the urge to protest, I slowly nod.
His eyes soften, and he gently rests a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry about me." He says before pulling his mask back over his face and limping up the next flight of stairs.
Following behind Newt, I put my mask back on and grip tightly to my Launcher, standing directly behind him just in case he stumbles or has another coughing fit.
Our group runs up four more flights, and then we quickly rush through a door to our left, stepping into a wide, long hall that makes a sharp turn right.
We swiftly walk to the end of the corridor, turning right with it to see two large, grey steel sliding doors at the end of yet another long stretch of hall.
"That's it." Gally says.
Thomas, without a moment of hesitation, rushes down the corridor, and, as Gally pushes Teresa forward, Newt limps past them swiftly, holding up his Launcher.
I am flushed with sudden excitement, and I jog after Newt, readying my weapon as we make our way down the hall quickly and quietly. I step between Thomas and Newt.
Just as the three of us approach the entrance to the sector, the two doors slide open as a WICKED officer is exiting the room, and his face falls the instant he sees us."What the-?!"
"Surprise, shuck-face." I say in a snark tone before firing the weapon at the man, the metal clamp latching to his chest and throwing his convulsing body backwards.
This sets off a chain reaction of the other guards inside shouting and quickly reaching for their weapons, but Thomas and Newt storm into the circular room, firing their Launchers over and over at the guards on each side.
Squinting one eye to get a better aim, I take out the three men standing in the center circle of computers, dodging any fires coming from their direction with ease.
Within seconds, all of the officers are unconscious on the ground. All because of three kids with Launchers.
Smiling proudly, I tear off my helmet and pull the fabric mask off from around my head, pulling my hair out from underneath the cloth and letting it fall to my shoulders and back freely. "Now that was shucking awesome." I mumble, grinning proudly.
"Good that." Gally says, quickly rushing past me while Teresa stays behind at the open entrance way.
Just as Thomas, who peels off his mask, and Newt rush to separate doors along the circular wall, I run straight across the room to the door just right of the massive center one, stepping on the unconscious guards on the way.
Stopping in front of the door, I peek through its window to see several girls sitting in their bunk beds, staring at the door in fear. I grin widely, quickly unlocking the door and yanking it open with a grunt, peering inside. "Hey, there!" I grin, as if this is the most casual encounter ever. "Come on, we're getting you girls out of here."
They all stare at me in complete shock, exchanging dumbfounded glances with one another, unmoving.
"What are you waiting for?" I laugh, waving them out. "Come on!"
As the girls quickly scramble off of their beds, I turn on my heels and stride back to the center of the room, the girls following me out.
The center room begins to hum with murmurs as Thomas opens the far left door to another room, freeing a group of young boys from inside.
Newt peeks in the window of the door to the right of Thomas's, and I can hear a unified gasp from the kids inside the room, causing me to giggle.
Opening the steel door, Newt takes off his mask, his hair falling into place as a small smile tugs on his lips. "Come on, let's go." He nods at the kids, turning on his heels. "Come on!"
Gally opens the fourth door, to my right, letting out another group of girls.
As I scan over the faces of the captives, I furrow my brows together when I realize that I do not see the one face we came here for. "What the...?"
Thomas, already thinking the same thing, rushes back into one of the bunk rooms, looking inside.
Face falling, I look to Newt, who's darting his eyes around the room, obviously doing his best to remain calm.
"He's not here." Thomas says as he rushes back into the circular room. "Minho's not here."
Standing taller and clenching his jaw, Gally shifts his narrowed eyes to Teresa, who seems just as shocked.
"Wh-What?" She asks.
"Minho's not here." Thomas repeats.
As I avert my attention back to Newt, I can see him dropping his helmet to the floor and taking off his Launcher, setting it on the desks and leaning against them with his hands, struggling to maintain rhythmical breaths, and my stomach leaps to my throat. "Newt..?" I mumble.
"That doesn't make sense..." Teresa shakes her head. "This is where they keep him."
"Well, he's not here." Newt snaps, his voice strong while his body appears weak.
I can sense that something very bad is about to happen, and I step closer to the blonde boy, tension immediately rising in the room. Thomas and Gally shift an anxious glance to Newt.
Teresa, drawing her brows together in concern, says, "They must've taken him somewhere else."
"But you said that he would be here." Newt growls, slowly standing upright and nearly stumbling over as he gains his balance, scowling at the girl. "You said that Minho would be here, and now you're telling us that they've got him somewhere else in this bloody building?!"
"Newt... Just calm down." Thomas says, rising panic laced in his voice.
"No! She's probably lying to us again! For all we know, she could betray us any bloody moment, and a herd of guards will storm in here and take us in for examination!"
"Newt," I chime in anxiously.
He limps towards Teresa, loathing eyes locked onto her. "She's going to get us all caught! Then they'll torture the rest of you for tests, and they'll lock me up behind some bloody glass and watch me become a shucking Crank!"
"Newt!" I snap sternly, quickly rushing after him and grasping his arms from behind before he can get physical.
Teresa holds her ground, unflinching, well-aware of what's going on with Newt. "I'm not a traitor." She says defensively. "Nor am I the overseer of what goes on here, but, trust me, I can find Minho's location right now." With that, she rushes around the other side of the desk. "Give me three minutes." She says, leaning over the desk and beginning to rapidly type on the keyboard to one of the computers.
Taking a deep breath, Thomas strides to Teresa's side, examining the computer screen and setting his weapon and helmet down beside the computer.
I can feel Newt's arms trembling in my grasp, and he slowly turns his head to the left, looking at me through his peripherals as he pants stuttered breaths softly. "Sorry... I don't mean to do this to you guys..."
Shaking my head, I whisper, "You can't help it..." Slowly letting go of his arms, I look over to Gally. "We need the Bliss. ASAP."
He nods, pursing his lips tightly together. He strides to the large, center door that doesn't have any windows, attempting to pry it open. "This is where they've got the Serum?"
He asks when the door doesn't budge, taking a step back to look it up and down.
"Yeah, but I don't have access." Teresa says, her eyes not leaving the computer screen.
"I figured that would be an issue." Gally mutters, dropping his pack on the floor and crouching down, unzipping and fumbling through it for something.
Newt coughs lightly, hitting his fist against his chest a few times until the fit is over. Sucking in a forced, deep breath, he walks back to the desks and leans back against them.
It really hurts to watch him like this, suffering and breaking down. He's gotten pretty bad in a matter of hours. How much longer until he's fully devoured by the virus?
I quietly walk to his side, gently grasping his left hand and squeezing it tightly.
He lifts his eyes to mine, smiling ever-so slightly, his sweat-soaked hair falling into his darkening eyes.
"What the...?" Teresa mumbles, drawing her brows together in concern as she leans closer to the computer screen, reading it closely.
"What is it?" Thomas asks, distorting his face as he examines the screen. "What's wrong?"
"They've taken Minho to the Examination Center." She explains as she shoots Thomas a worried look. "That's all the way on the other side of the building."
Gally finally takes out a handheld saw from his pack, along with some protective glasses. Sliding them over his eyes, he looks to the rest of us. "This is going to take a little while, but I can get in." He says reassuringly before turning on the device and cutting into the door, sparks flying.
Thomas, pursing his lips together, nods slightly, inhaling deeply through his nose as he stands taller, shoulders back. "Alright, we'll get him." He tells Teresa, picking up his Launcher and helmet and rushing towards the open entrance. "Newt, (y/n), keep guard for Gally." He orders.
Newt, standing upright as he forces himself to not use the desk for support, shakes his head. "I'm coming with you." He protests, picking his helmet up from the floor.
"What?" I ask, perking up in panic.
Thomas shakes his head. "No, Newt, you need to stay behind."
"Yeah, no shucking way." I chime in.
Gally, stopping in the middle of sawing into the door, snaps, "Someone just needs to get Minho." After adding his two cents, he returns to working on the door.
"Tommy," Newt says, ignoring me and narrowing his eyes at Thomas, "Minho comes first. Remember?"
I gape in offense over the lack of acknowledgement, darting my eyes from the blonde boy to the brunette as I put my hands on my hips.
Thomas, frowning at Newt for a few moments, sighs heavily. "Fine..."
"What?" I snap at the brunette. "No, no, no. You can't shucking cave in like that!"
"(y/n)," Newt says, "I have to get Minho."
I fold my arms, shaking my head. "No, you don't. Thomas and Teresa are fully capable of getting Minho themselves, and they can meet us at the bus with Brenda in the underground level-"
"It's my turn to save his life."
"Newt-"
"(y/n)." He cuts me off sternly, narrowing his eyes at me. "You know I have to do this."
Clenching my jaw as I inhale deeply through my nose, I nod slightly. "Fine." I say simply with a shrug. "I'm coming with you three, then."
"No," Newt shakes his head, "no bloody way, (y/n)."
"You're not my boss."
"Gally needs a guard."
"Gally is capable of defending himself."
"That's true." Gally mutters from behind as he cuts into the door.
I gesture to him. "See? Besides, you're the last person that should be leaving this room!" I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air. "You need the Bliss!"
"And I will get some when we meet you two at the bus."
Thomas, standing at the entrance way with Teresa, waves. "Guys, we need to get going. Now."
Newt, looking back at Thomas, nods. "Go ahead. I'll be right behind you two."
Staring back at Newt, Thomas nods slightly before mumbling, "Let's go," to Teresa and turning on his heels, pulling his mask over his head and sprinting down that hall, Teresa running behind.
Eyes locked on Newt, I feel my breathing pace pick up. "Newt, you can't-"
"I have to go." He says, looking me in the eyes, pressing his lips tightly together as he takes a deep breath. I can see the gears beginning to turn rapidly in his head.
"Newt-"
"You've got a part of me with you, remember?" He says reassuringly, flickering his eyes to my pocket as I reach inside to feel for the fabric of his bandanna for a moment. "Hold it tightly until we reunite in a few, alright?"
Clenching my jaw, I shake my head. "Either I'm coming with you, or you're staying here."
"Newt?" I hear Thomas call from down the hall before Newt can open his mouth to respond.
The ill boy looks back over his shoulder towards the hall before turning back to me. "I've got to go." He repeats, turning on his heels and limping to the desk to grab his Launcher.
It is at this moment that I realize that there is no possible way I'm going to change his mind. Newt is going to go with Thomas and Teresa, and he is not going to let me follow them.
As anxiety rises inside of me, I struggle to keep rhythmical breaths, hands shaking slightly with overwhelming stress. "Newt..."
Pulling the strap of his Launcher over his shoulder, across his chest, Newt swings the gun to his back, shifting his brown eyes to me. Gripping the strap, he stands still in silence, keeping his eyes locked on mine from a few yards away. He seems almost frozen, unmoving with his expression unreadable as if he's debating on what to do, evaluating several options that I fail to see.
"Newt, are you coming with us?" Thomas calls from out of sight down the hall.
"Give me a bloody minute!" Newt snaps over his shoulder suddenly; however, he averts his eyes back to me as they immediately soften, locking them onto mine. I can almost see the neurons in his brains sparking as his mind races.
Adjusting his posture slightly as he finally comes to some kind of internal conclusion, he sets his helmet back on the desk before slipping off his black gloves and tossing them onto the surface.
In concerned puzzlement, I ask, "Are you staying?"
Newt dusts his hands off on his pants, turning and limping to me swiftly, his brown eyes staring directly into mine in a manner that is indescribable.
I frown, my heart still racing. "Newt, what are you-"
Before I can finish the sentence, Newt clasps his hands on my face, suddenly slamming his lips against mine.
Taken aback, my eyes widen as my lips begin to tingle from the contact with his, and my heart leaps out of my chest so much so that I would not be surprised if Newt could feel it. After seconds, I slowly relax, closing my eyes and returning the kiss.
At this moment, with Newt's warm, soft lips pressed against mine, I feel every worry melt away, the life-and-death situation feeling as if it's a mere spec, a single blip in time, forgotten. It's only him and I, and we are connected far more than we have ever been, greatly surpassing last night on the balcony. I can feel those shattered pieces of our pasts that were exposed a short twenty four hours ago mending together at a rapid pace as our lips move perfectly in sync. Our broken mosaics patch together, joining as one to create a vast, breathtaking work of art, far more beautiful than any aesthetic piece.
As an overwhelming swell of contentment bursts from deep within my heart, I feel Newt's hands gently shift to my waist, and he pulls me closer to him, and, by instinct, I wrap my arms around his neck.
And all of this time, I have yearned for this moment, and yet I never knew that myself.
Our hearts beat in flawless synchronization, as one, and, kissing him deeply, I never, ever want to break away. I never want to let go.
However, Newt gently pulls his lips away, though he rests his forehead against mine, slowly opening his eyes and staring into mine. The print of his lips linger on mine, leaving me with a soft, tingling sensation.
"Newt..." I whisper, cupping his face and gently brushing my thumbs along his pale skin.
He quickly leans in once more, kissing me again, obviously having discovered the same fiery desire within his own heart, and I definitely do not fight it.
As he slowly pulls his lips away, once again, I can feel his gentle, warm breaths against my lips, and the small smile that I adore tugs on the right corner of his mouth. "That was long overdue..."
I manage laugh softly, still cupping his pale, sweaty face between my hands. "Yeah... Yeah, that was..."
Licking his lips, he nods, managing to chuckle weakly. Taking a deep breath and standing taller, his smile already fading, Newt lets go of me, stepping back and grasping the strap of his Launcher. "I've really got to go, now..." He says.
My heart sinks, and my face falls as reality slaps me across the face with it's icy hand. "You can't just stay?"
He limps to the desk, sliding on his gloves and picking up his helmet. "I have to get Minho, but I will be with you again soon. Trust me." He says as he rushes to the hall. He pauses in his path and turns on his heels, looking to me. "Goodbye, (y/n)." With that, he turns towards the corridor, putting the helmet on his head.
"Newt," I call, causing him to stop in his tracks again and turn around to face me once more before he can pull the mask over his face, "this is not goodbye."
Eyes shifting slightly in thought, Newt nods, pulling the mask over his face as he slowly backs into the corridor before turning forward and running out of sight, after Thomas and Teresa.
Folding my arms, I stare at the open entrance for a few moments, my heart yearning for myself to grab my weaponry and sprint after them.
"Geez," Gally finally speaks up, stopping in the middle of his saw work, once again, "PDA much? There are children present."
Shooting a glare at Gally, I mutter, "Oh, shut up."
I turn back around to stare at the open entrance, biting my lip and tapping my foot as I already begin to feel antsy.
'Goodbye'? Why would Newt say that? This is not goodbye. I won't let it be so.