Months, maybe weeks later, Thomas, was still having nightmares. Over and over again, the same words:
—Kill me or I'll kill you. Kill me! Do it!
—Newt...
—Do it before I become one of them!
—I...
—KILL ME!
—Please, Tommy. Please.
The sound of the trigger woke him up. It always woke him up.
It was past midnight and he was sweating cold, he could hear the night clearly: the crickets, the flowing river, the frogs and everything that makes it so damn noisy.
He had settled in, on his own way. That day, when Minho organized everything for them to stay in the woods, Brenda kissed him, and he saw light leave the darkened horizon, he felt things would change.
And they did; people were rebuilding homes, new towns were being born, houses brought up. He didn't know much about WICKED, they closed because of the government. And that is that.
He inherited some money from his mother, who died while he was on the maze. Everything that day might have seemed normal until he opened his mailbox.
What I thought it would be best, Date 145.8.13, Time: 9:30
TO: Thomas
FROM: Ava Paige, Ex-Chancellor
RE: The new beginning
I know speak for all WICKED, though it has been vanished, and has a new name, which I'm now allowed to disclose.
As you may have known, we were undergoing extreme pressure from social arousing against our practices and, overall by the government. Which ended up in our extinction.
We are still working secretly on the cure for The Flare. Obviously with much less equipment and no subjects whatsoever, the idea of the blueprint has been, indeed, vanished from our objectives.
Although we have not had great progress on that end, I address to you in hope of your understanding of our apology and our condolences.
We found out, almost recently, that Subject A5. The Glue (by the name of Newt), whopassed away after the Scorch Trials, was very fond of you, clearly regarded at The Glade. We cannot tell you how sorry we all are for that.
Feelings apart, we wanted you to accept an offering from us. It's still in development but we might have found a regenerating serum, which would, after several minutes, regrow almost completely brain activity and serious physical scaring, even a non-serious injury such as a limping problem.
Of course this is all hypothetical, but, in the case that you are willing to try it and receive this serum in the hope that your friend might come back to life, this organization gives you a prototype for the Regenerating Agglutinogen (RA) enclosed at the end of the package attached to this letter.
With not much to say,
I advice you to aim for the heart.
Yours truly,
Ava Paige.
Just behind the letter there was a package with a tag scratched and a blue syringe inside of it.
Thomas stood there for almost five minutes shocked by what he had just read. Was this another game they were trying to play on his head? Was the memory of Newt really just too tempting? Thomas didn't know if his emotions were driving him to do this but he felt he had to at least try, after all, it was a gift wasn't it?
He had not yet forgotten were he left Newt's body, and he certainly knew that it was still there, if not covered in other bodies, because the city was cleaned up by sectors and he heard a week ago they were barely finishing the east. He, therefore, had hope.
Thomas got in the car and aimed for the highway, he had nothing to loose, there was no time for having breakfast or even think about responsibilities, he had a very dirty and traditional blue pickup, that he bought on a second-hand car shop.
Thomas underwent a lot of stress and his hands were shaky, the thought of seeing Newt again was bringing back The Maze and a sense of alert he would never forget. He was now safe, he had a roof under which he lived in, and he had food and water he didn't have to look for in a darn elevator every week, he missed Frypan's meals though.
A thought came to his mind immediately, why didn't he think on bringing Chuck back? He guessed it was because he already did a favor for him, he did find his mom. Even if Chuck didn't end his wish he knew what he had to say.
His dad had died because of coronary thrombosis, but his mom was alive, a rather young lady, brown and curly hair, with green eyes and a dog. Thomas had thought Chuck would've loved it there, she had a great yard with trees and plants everywhere, he found her looking into the yellow pages, he didn't expect much, but there she was: Anne Wedgwood, he called her and told her she wanted to meet her, and she accepted.
It was a sunny day not long after he had found everything he owns now, it was kind of a redemption to finally meet her, he had his mother's eyes. She invited him to a cup of coffee in a little living room she had next to the garden. He told him everything he could, how his friend had died saving him, he never wanted any of them to die for him, but Chuck had a knack for putting everyone else's needs before his own. He had a brave heart. She cried a little, but tried to hold herself together, Thomas told her he loved her even though he didn't remember anything else than his name and that that was Chuck's last wish, for him to tell her that. She gave Thomas a little statuette she said Chuck loved when he was a baby. Thomas was amazed to see it since he remembered Chuck having an almost exact replica of the figure with wood at the Maze; he kept quiet, he felt that could be his and Chuck's secret.
Thomas was closing in on those ruined parts of the city, flashing images of Cranks were flooding Thomas head, he felt he lost control of the vehicle for a second and almost crashed with a tree but came back to his senses and dodged it, he slowed down because of all the children, men and women's bodies lying around. There it was, a clear with nothing but a dead corpse in the middle
Thomas pulled over his car, his friend was right there, he didn't know if it was a side effect from The Flare or something, but his body did not seem decomposed or even rotten, Newt lay there completely stiff, as if he had shot him just this morning.
He got closer to his body and stared at it for a few moments. He remembered his non-understandable accent, his eyes wide open made him remember the nights at The Glade were he gave him strange drinks and locked him up in The Pit, how he always denied answering his questions, but still was the only one to believe in him, the good times too, his brave heart and his drive to help others. Thomas fell on his knees and cried his eyes out for almost fifteen minutes. He couldn't bear with himself. He killed his best friend, even if Newt asked for it; he put a bullet in his brain. In that moment, he wanted that bloody hug and the nice sit-down to talk. Even if Newt had not will to live, in that place, he coped with it, he helped him find a way out, and he helped him escape, he chose what was right for what was easy, Thomas felt a pain in his chest, was he doing the right thing? Or was he just thinking on himself. If Newt really wanted to be gone, who was him to tell him not to? The way he begged for it at the end, as getting a last gasp of sanity, as if he had nothing left to loose. Nothing left to ask for.
Thomas prayed for it to work, he ripped Newt's shirt off, got the syringe out of his pockets and took off the cap. He screamed with tears in his eyes while he dragged it to the sky and immediately nailed it in his chest to the left, aiming for the heart. All the liquid drained out of the dose and everything went quiet for a second
Thomas's heart was bumping hard against his chest, nothing moved, nothing changed. Thomas started crying again.
—How stupid was I? How did I think it might work, this is all my fault. Newt I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.
Thomas heard a slight sound coming from Newt, the bullet hole was closing up, his pale body was acquiring some colors, the bruises were fading off, his bald patches were covering with new hair, the bloody scratches were disappearing. Newt blinked once or twice.
—Hey there, shuck-face, how long was I gone?
