A Way Back - The Maze Runner (♡Newt) UNDER EDITING/REWRITE

Chapter 30

Cally's pov

"Sooooo, Clint. What do you want me to do?" I was in the Med-room with Clint after my- what I only can describe as an embarrassing- failed attempt of an apology with Newt. It was still morning, my eyes had wondered to the window multiple times already, only to see the sun had barely moved from its spot in the sky. I was restless. I didn't know why, but something felt wrong. The pull of the Maze was stronger than normal, as if there was something for me to find, something that wasn't there before. Or maybe I was just restless, and I wanted to run to clear my head. Either way, I did not feel like being in this room any longer than I had to be.
     Clint handed me a small flashlight, like the one he and Jeff had. "Do you remember where everything is?"
      My gaze left the window and scanned the room until they found the drawers. "I know where to find the Grieve serum, don't think that's ever going to leave my system. The other things I'll find when I need them, no need to show me."
     "I'm showing you anyway. It's important you know where everything is for when there's an emergency and you don't have time to look for it." Of course he was right, and I silently observed everything he showed me and listened to his explanations on how to use every single object. But keeping my body from yittering was getting harder with the second. It was really getting on my nerves. He was explaining things and showing me stuff I already knew. I just couldn't tell him I already knew.
     The last thing he took from a drawer was a needle and wire. "This we use to stitch people back together. Nasty work, painful too. At least for the Shank we have to put the needle in." Clint laughed at his own joke, only for it to die down and clear his throat when he noticed I stared at him with a blank expression.
     "Anyway, I think it's a good idea if you practice on a piece of cloth before sticking a needle in somebody's skin-"
     "I already sewed my shirt back together," I interrupted. "I know how to do it. No need for practice."
     Clint raised an eyebrow at me, slight irritation creeping into his voice. "I don't care that you did that. And Frankly, I don't care that you would rather be off in the Maze right now-" My head shot up, looking at him with big eyes. Apparently, I hadn't been as subtle with the staring as I thought I had been. "-I am your Keeper now, and you will start listening to me, and you will answer my questions. Good that?"
     I was baffled, I had never seen Clint lose his nerve before. "Good that?" He repeated, a glare in his eyes.
     Quickly, I nodded my head. "Yeah. Sorry. Of course." He took a cloth from a basket and ripped it apart. Then he gave it to me, together with the needle and some wire.
     "So tell me, what do you do?"
     Fighting the urge to sigh and roll my eyes, I started talking. "Well, first thing I would do if I had to stitch a person would be disinfecting my hands, together with the needle and the wire...."
     "Disinfect? How are you planning on doing that?"
     "I don't know... what do you guys have for disinfecting?"
     "That's not what I meant, Cally." The guy said through a sigh. "I mean, we don't disinfect. We can't. Don't have the right supplies to do it."
     This made me frown. "Really? Did you ever ask for it? I mean, put a request for it in the box?"
     Clint nodded, "we did, just never got anything."
     "What about alcohol?" I questioned, becoming a little anxious about the lack of ways to fight infections. "You guys have that?"
     "We don't. Not that I know, maybe Frypan has some. All the food and drinks go to the kitchen after we get it from the box."
     "Infections can be dangerous, deadly even if not treated right. Ma-"
     "Do you think I don't know that?" Clint bit at me. "Any idea how many Gladers we've lost because of it?"
     I fell silent, looking down in shame once the words sunk in. "Um... no.... I uhhh, I didn't. I'm sorry."
     The guy pulled his hand through his hair, visible trying to calm himself down. I had no idea I could so easily get on his nerves. "It's okay, Cally," Clint said. "Now back to the stitching. What do you do next?"
     "I take a piece of the wire, attach it to the needle, and start stitching." I trailed off, my thought going back to our previous conversation. "Do you think Frypan has some alcohol?"
     Clint groaned in response. "I. don't. know. Just.... just stitch, okay?"
     I put down the needle and wire and got up, disobeying my new Keeper against better judgment. "I'm gonna ask Frypan if he has some. Back in a few minutes!"Before Clint could stop me, I rushed out of the room. Only slowing down once I reached the stairs.
     I was so done with today. I know how to put on a bandage, I know how a syringe works, and I know how to stitch! Can he just stop explaining all of that shit like I'm a toddler who has to learn how shoelaces work. I like Clint, but man, he needed to stop talking to me like that.
     As I walked into the kitchen, I got greeted by Gideon, who was busy cutting up some carrots. "Hello, Cally! What are ya doing here? Already done with being a Med-jack, huh?"
     I laughed, "No, Gid, I'm looking for Frypan. Do you know where he is?"
Gideon pointed to the back, where I saw him with his back turned to us, yelling at some poor Shank. Apparently, he had done something wrong. I tried to hold in my laughter as I got closer, when he turned around, he seemed surprised that I was standing there. His entire posture changed back to his cheery self. "Ow, hey Cally. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Clint?"
     I nodded, sending him one particularly friendly smiles. "Yeah, I'm heading back in a minute. I just had a question for you."
     Frypan raised his eyebrows at me, "for me? I'm honored." He said with sarcasm in his voice and a smile on his face.
     He didn't seem to buy into my smile tactic, so I turned it into a playful glare. "I'm sure you are. Aaaanywaay. Do you have alcohol somewhere in your kitchen?"
     A look of surprise came over Fry's face, only to be replaced by suspicion. "Alcohol? What do you want with that? Aren't you still under age?"
     "It's not for drinking. It's for disinfecting. Clint told me we don't have anything to disinfect wounds. I thought that that's a bit unfortunate, so I wanted to go see if you had some alcohol so we do have something for it."
     His suspicion ebbed away once he understood my intention. "Well, I've got some bottles. Get them every week, never let any of the Shanks touch it, though. Don't want any of them to get funny ideas."
     "I could see how that could be problematic. But can I have some bottles?"
     Frypan seemed to think about it. "Sure, could give you one..."
     "I- We need more than one."
     "Do you need it right now?"
     "We may not need it right now. But we're going to need it one day, so we do need it." It took some time before he said something, so I continued. "Why don't you want to give it to me? You just said you don't let the Gladers touch it, so why refuse to give me some? Or are you secretly an alcoholic?"
     "Don't be ridiculous-"
     "Just give some. I mean, don't you think it's important that we can disinfect wounds? People could die from infections, you know."
     Shaking his head, he gave in. "Okay, Clint can have it. Just, gimme a sec." He walked away and some time later came back with two bottles.
     "Here you go, don't drink it."
    I smiled at him, "Thanks, Fry. I'll come back when those need to be refilled." Frypan just waved me off. Knowing wasting time would be a bad idea now I got Clint mad, I headed backup the stairs.
     "Watch out!" A panicked voice shouted at me from behind. Having no time to think about it, I jumped to the side, hitting the railing and dropping one of the bottles in the progress. It fell down and shattered on the ground, but I didn't look down. My eyes were on Ben, who had run past me carrying someone in his arm.
     Loosing no time, I ran upstairs after Ben, skipping steps. Panic tried to fill my body, but I pushed it down. No way the Shank was dead. Worst case, he got Stung and needed the Serum. Otherwise, Ben wouldn't be in such a hurry, right?
     I froze in the doorway the moment I recognized the person Ben had dragged in. A cold hand squeezed around my heart.
     It was Newt. Ben had been carrying Newt. The unconscious blond boy had been placed on the bed closest to the door. Blood streamed out of a wound on his head, and there was something unquestionably wrong with his right leg.
     Clint pressed a cloth against the wound on his head, trying to stop the bleeding, but the blood just kept on coming.
     "Did he get stung?" Clint asked Ben. Who just shook his head frantically.
     "I don't think so."
     "You don't think so?"
     "Yes, I don't think so."
     Clint clenched his jaw, talking through his teeth. "Ben, did he get stung, yes or no?"
     "I don't know, man!" Ben threw his hands up in frustration. "I found him hanging from a wall on a string of ivy. I don't know if he got stung or not."
     "Cally!" Clint's eyes had found me. "Don't just stand there. Come help me." Clint's words were like a splash of icy water, waking me up. I put the bottle alcohol I was holding down on a table and joined my Keeper's side, letting him instruct me on how to help our friend.
     "Keep pressure on the wound." he told me while handing me the piece of cloth. I quickly pressed it back against his head while Clint started checking his body for Griever Stings.
    "No holes, no green veins...." Clint mumbled. "How did you find him again?"
     "He was hanging upside down on one of the walls, his foot entangled in ivy. I don't know how long he had been hanging there, but there wasn't that much blood on the ground, so it couldn't be that long, right?"
     I looked at the piece of cloth between my hand and Newt's head. The once white fabric now almost completely red. "If he lost his blood at the same speed as now, it wouldn't have been that long." I spoke, hoping I was right. Because if that wasn't the case, he would need a blood transfusion, which was impossible in this place. Meaning that no matter if we stitch him up right, he would die of blood loss. No matter how mad I was at him, the mere thought of losing Newt made me feel like I couldn't breath.
     Clint walked to the bed we had been sitting on before, grabbing the needle and wire I had left there. "We've got to stitch that," he said. I took a step back as Clint started to stick the needle into Newt's skin.
     Not able to watch, I averted my gaze. Only for my eyes to fall on Newt's right foot. I had never broken something, nor did anyone in my direct environment, so I had never seen a broken bone, but I was pretty sure this was one. His skin was scraped and already bruising, but the real hint was the big bulge of skin that stuck out in the wrong direction.
     "That's definitely broken." Clint confirmed my diagnosis once he was done stitching. "I've got to push it back into place."
     "You what?" My anxiety rose. How does that work? Wouldn't that be very painful?
     "Need to push it back." Clint repeated himself, ignoring my internal panic as he continued barking orders at us. "Ben, Cally, hold him down. He's going to feel this, and there's a chance he will wake up. Do not let him move."
     We both walked up to different sides of Newt and pushed against his body, bracing ourselves for whatever reaction we would get out of him.
     "Okay, here we go..." Clint started, placing his hands around the ankle and the lump. "Three. Two. One." The one was followed by a loud crack and a roaring scream from Newt.
     His eyes shot open, horror clearly visible in them. "What the bloody-" he groaned. I could feel him shifting, only for Clint to order him to stay still.
     Newt didn't seem to fully understand. He was about to look down, but I quickly placed my hand beneath his chin and moved his head to look up. "Don't look down. Look at me."
     The confused and hazy look in his tear filled, brown eyes made me want to cry, but I swallowed the lump in my throat down. I didn't freak out while helping Guz, I can't freak out this time either.
     "Am I... Am I dead?" Newt's voice was soft and broken, almost desperate.
     A joyless chuckle escaped my lips through a puff off air. "No," I responded, moving my hand to cup his face with one hand. Not letting his eyes leave mine. "No, you're not. Thank God you're not."
     "Cally," Clint addressed me. "Get me four sticks, a roll of tape and the basket with fabrics." I locked eyes with Ben, who understood what I wanted of him and placed his other hand on my side of Newt in order to keep him down.
     I did what I was told to, handed Clint whatever he needed of me until he had completely splinted Newt's ankle. After admiring his work for a few seconds, Clint turned to me. "Check if he has a concussion of some sort, you know how to do that?"
I nodded, "No problem."
     "Good, I'm getting some towels and cold water." He turned to Ben, told him he could let go before he turned to Newt. "Do not move your foot or leg."
     "Yeah." Newt answered weakly.
     There fell a silence once Clint had left, Ben following the Keeper thinking his work was done.
     With a sigh, I sat dawn beside Newt, flashlight in hand. But when I leaned over Newt, he turned his head away from me, his hair covering most of his face.
     "Newt... just..." It took me everything not to start shaking like he already was. "Let me do this. Please..." He didn't say anything as he let me move his head to face me. I brushed some strands of hair out of the way, revealing the stains on his cheeks. Trying not to focus on the miserable look in his eyes, I took the small flashlight and checked his pupil reflexes. They were a bit slow, but not too much. "Can you answer some questions?" I asked gently, on which he responded by nodding his head once.
     "How many fingers?" I held up three, and after a few seconds, he answered with the same number.
     "Good, can you tell me where we are?"
     "Homestead." He answered through a clenched jaw.
     "Does your head hurt?"
     "Everything bloody hurts!" Newt snarled, making me flinch. The boy pressed his hands to his eyes, rubbing them. He sucked in a breath, trying to keep it together. I wanted to comfort him, pull him into a tight hug, and make it go away. But I couldn't. And something told me he wouldn't let me. So, instead, I took the strongest painkillers I could find and a bottle of water.
     "Take this, it will help."
     Newt let his hands fall away from his face. He let me help him take them, but he avoided making eye contact the entire time.
Finally, Clint got back with more water bottles and clean towels. Handing me one of both. "Clean the wound. I'll do the foot."
     Again, I did as I was told and started to clean the wound.
     The moment all the blood was gone, I got the bottle of alcohol from the table I had put it on. "What's that?" Clint asked as he saw me open the bottle.
     "Alcohol," I answered simply. "Got it from Fry. Told you he would have some." I said as I put some of the liquid on a tissue and started disinfecting the wound.

~.~.~

A/N:

Aaaaaand again, I got tagged by the lovely ElleniarZaltacxer
Soooo here it is:

Edited: deleted it all, cuz honestly who cares? Buuut I still wanted to mention the person who tagged me. Last time I checked they deleted their account but I have good memories of our little interactions, I hope they are doing alright

....

~Purple Dragon

(28/07/2018)

Edited: 26/11/20