The Cost of the Cure

Chapter 65

The hours drag by as you help make dinner. When you finally finish, you join Newt at the West Door, looking for Alby and Minho.

"No sign of them?" you ask. You already know the answer to your question, but don't know what else to say.

"None," Newt breathes, his fist clenching and unclenching. He shifts from foot to foot, waiting for them.

You take one of his cold, sweaty hands in yours. He has to be on the verge of panic by now.

The dinner bell rings halfheartedly, but you don't make a move to go. None of the other Gladers stir, either.

Newt takes a deep breath, forcing a calm front to mask his face and turns to face the others that have gradually gathered around the both of you, waiting for them as well. "You heard the bell. No point in wasting it. Waiting here isn't going to bring them back."

"But--" Jack starts.

"No buts. You can eat and then come back and wait. Until then, I don't want to see any of you bloody shanks 'round here."

One by one, the Glader disperse, plodding off to the kitchens to receive their food. Instead, you stay by Newt.

"Y/n, go get you dinner," he says, his voice little more than a defeated sigh. "You worked hard on it."

"I'm staying with you," you persist, staring down the corridor and into the Maze. You're not about to leave him.

"There's nothing you can do. It's pointless."

You fold your arms, still refusing to look away from the Maze. They could come running into the Glade any moment. "Then why are you staying?"

"I--" he struggles to find the words, a tear finally slipping down his face. "I can't give up on them. They're my friends."

"They're mine, too," you whisper. You find his hand and hold it in yours. You don't know what to do, but you hope that it's enough for him to know that you're there with him. Your eyes well up with tears. Like Newt, you refuse to abandon them, even if it is pointless.

"Where are they?" Newt says, his voice strained.

"Why don't we send out a search party?" Thomas says, walking up with Chuck on his heels.

"Bloody h--" Newt starts. He closes his eyes, trying to calm himself and takes a deep breath. "We can't. Okay? Don't say it again. One hundred percent against the rules. Especially with the doors about to close."

"But why?" Thomas questions. "Won't the Grievers get them if they stay out there? Shouldn't we do something?"

Newt whirls around, his hand ripping away from yours as he finally snaps. He glares at Thomas.

"Shut your hole, Greenie!" he yells. "Not a bloody week you've been here! You think I wouldn't risk my life in a second to save those lugs?"

"No... I... Sorry. I didn't mean..." Thomas stammers.

Even you're glaring at him. You know he doesn't know ,still being a Greenie and everything, but you can't help it. Every single Glader in the place wouldn't have been waiting by the Doors off and on throughout the day if they could've done something.

However, Newt's face softens. "You don't get it yet, Tommy. Going out there at night is beggin' for death. We'd just be throwing more lives away. If those shanks don't make it back... Both of them swore an oath, just like I did. Like we all did. You, too, when you get your first Gathering and get chosen by a Keeper. Never go out at night. No matter what. Never."

"Newt won't say it," Chucks says. "So I will. If they're not back, it means they're dead. Minho's too smart to get lost. Impossible. They're dead."

Your heart drops, nothing filling the empty void there. You've known it for hours, but can't accept it. Chuck walks away, his head hanging.

"The shank's right," Newt whispers. "That's why we can't go out. We can't afford to make things bloody worse than they already are."

You look down at your watch. "The Doors close in two minutes."

Even as you hear yourself, you can't find a single ray of hope in your voice. All it means is two minutes until you know they're dead for sure. Or at least, as good as.

Newt starts trudging back to the Homestead, hunched over and silent. You follow him, leaving Thomas standing at the Doors.