Part One
Newt felt waves of fiery air drying the trails of black blood tracing downwards from his lips. He smelled the blood; it was all he could taste. And it was his own.
Newt's hands found the necklace tied around his throat. He ripped it off forcefully and shoved it at Thomas, who was crouched in front of him. Thomas's face was indescribable, and Newt's heart wrenched at the thought that they would soon be separated forever.
"Newt, come on, we gotta go!" yelled Thomas.
"No! Take it. Take it!" He screamed. He struggled for another breath, barely finding one. The blood was in his throat, in his lungs. He gasped desperately. "Please. Please, Tommy... please." The words were barely a whisper. He knew the necklace and its contents would soon be all that was left of him, the real him.
"Okay... okay." Thomas held Newt's hand, then took the necklace from it. He looked out of the alley at the burning street, then back at his dying friend. Newt's eyes were black, and the veins that had begun to trace his skin only hours ago had grown darker. He snarled at something only he could see. Thomas set his jaw, quickly calculating. "Newt, we're gonna go, you gotta give me everything you got! Let's go!"
Thomas slung Newt's arm across his broad shoulders, heaved him upright, and began to drag him across what was left of the street. They were headed in the direction of the tunnels, of the berg that could take them away, of Minho and Gally and Brenda.
Of the serum.
Newt's legs felt stiff; his left foot dragged behind him while he did what he could to help Thomas haul his shuddering body forward, forward.
Newt collapsed.
He barely heard Thomas screaming his name as he faded into darkness...