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

Chapter 31

Cally's pov

I was sitting on a table, poking my food with my fork. It was dinner time,  Gladers had gathered in the kitchen as always. Ben didn't go into the Maze after he got back with Newt, but the other Runners were coming back one by one.
     Bark was lying on the bench beside me, head on my leg. I petted her head as I always do and thought about what had happened.
     After we were done with treating Newt- this included piling up pillows for his foot so it would lay high against swelling and cooling it down by putting wet towels in thin plastic bags around it- Clint explained everything else I needed to know as a Med-jack. As if it hadn't been hard enough to focus before.
     Right after that he changed the schedule, first the only two Med-jacks who stayed in the Med-room were him and Jeff, but now I was one of them and I was willing to take shifts too. My next shift would start tomorrow morning, I would be in the M.R. after breakfast until lunch. Then it would be Jeff's turn and after dinner it was Clint's. This circle was going to repeat itself until something happened and we had to change it.
     The door of the kitchen opened and Minho came walking in, covered in sweat as always. I followed him with my eyes as he went to the counter to get his food. He had felt my eyes on him, for he turned to me, joining Bark and me at the table, sitting down in front of us.
     "And how's my little sister doing? Had fun on your first official day as a Med-jack?"
     "No, not really." I confessed through a deep, tired sigh. "First Clint talked. He started explaining everything he thought I should know. Turns out, that's a lot."
     "That does not sound that bad," Minho stated, seeming disinterested. 
     "Yeah, well you know what happened next? Ben came running into the Med-room, carrying an unconscious Newt."
     Minho almost dropped his fork, his head shooting up. Worry in his eyes. "Did he get stung? Is he okay?"
     "Relax, he didn't get stung and he's fine." As I answered, I didn't look up from my plate, still messing with my food. "At least, he does have a small concussion, a wound on his head and a broken foot, but he's alive."
     "What happened to him?"
     "We don't know. All we know is that Ben found him unconscious, hanging upside down on a wall, foot stuck in some ivy."
     Minho rubbed his hands over his eyes for a moment before responding, "how the hell did the shuckface get himself into that position?"
     I shrugged, the grip on my fork tightening. "I don't know. Clint thinks he was trying to escape from something, maybe a Griever. Thought he would be save on the wall, but something went wrong and he fell."
     Minho didn't even have to think about what I said, "that's a pile of klunk. Newt wouldn't climb a wall to escape from a Griever, he'd run, like all of us. The Shank isn't stupid enough for that."
     "Yeah that's what I thought," I responded, resting my head on my hand, gaze still on my food.
     "What do you think? You saw the injuries, does something show what could've happened?"   
     "I don't know. I'm not a doctor."
     "No, but you're a Med-jack." Minho was starting to loose his patience and it was audible through his voice. "That's close enough." 
     When I didn't responded, my bro grabbed my wrist, shaking it to get me to look at him. "You really don't know anything else?" There was a newfound intensity in his posture that I'd never seen in him before.
     I lifted my head from my hand and re-positioned. As I leaned forward Minho let go of my wrist. "The only thing I know for sure is that he bashed his head against the wall and the ivy, that was around his foot, broke it. So he supposedly fell, his weight combined with the falling speed broke his foot when it got stuck in the ivy and then bashed his head against the wall. Or he first bashed his head, causing him to fall down and break his foot."
     It was quiet for a moment. In the past few hours I had gone over almost every situation that would make Newt desperate enough to climb a wall. And there was one that stood out to me, one that I did not want to think was a possibility, but I just couldn't shake the thought. "What do you think that happened?"
     Minho swallowed some of his food before answering, "I don't know. But I'm sure he didn't climb that wall to get away from a shuck Griever. No way."
     "You know him a lot longer than I do, what would be a reason for him to climb a wall?" Minho stayed silent, wrinkles in his forehead. "You're thinking of something, Pretty boy, I can see it. What is it?"
     "Nothing, it's...." he paused, "no, he wouldn't do that." After he said that Minho filled his mouth with food again.
     "Minho," I started carefully. "I think we're thinking the same thing, I just want to- I need to be sure about this. So spill it."
     Minho glanced up at me, considering what I had said and how to answer. "No, Newt wouldn't do something so stupid to himself."
     "How are you so sure about that?"
     "I just am, Newt would never jump."
     I dropped my fork onto the plate, leaning my head back on my hand, averting my gaze to the ground where Bark lay. "Don't lie to me." I whispered, knowing Minho could hear me.