Disclaimer: I do not own this amazing franchise know as the Maze Runner. All rights go to James Dashner, the author of the Maze Runner, and his publishing company whom he probably sold the rights to. This story is written purely for my entertainment with nothing to do with profit or recognition. "I write what I want to write, I write what amuses me, it's totally for myself."- J.K. Rowling.
Boom!
Nothing more. Just... boom. The impact knocked Tommy back, spinning him so he fell flat on his face. Newt instantly reached out with his mind, grasping at his brother's to dull the pain he felt. He would got to Tommy. But not yet. Tackling the crank to the ground was Minho, preparing to beat the klunk out of the shank who dared to harm a Glader. Yes, then Newt could go to his brother. Crouching next to him, Newt watched his brother with worry in his eyes.
"He shot me," Tommy mumbled, almost confused. It was so ludicrous that had it been any other time Newt would have laughed. The pain his brother was feeling was almost unbearable. It depleted his thought capability to almost nothing. Newt pulled the pain away from his brother even further. Blood was pouring from the wound in an ugly mass.
"Don't slip away, Tommy," Newt said as someone passed him a shirt that was pressed to the wound. The pain that was already raging into his brother increased as Newt tried to slow the blood flow.
'Pass out. Please pass out, make it go away.'
'Calm down, Tommy. Focus on breathing and staying calm.'
"I can get that sucker out of him," Jorge stated, his voice the epitome of calm. "But I'll need a fire."
"We can't do this here," Minho said, also kneeling over Tommy, having finished beating the klunk out of the crank. "Let's get out of this shuck city."
"Alright," Newt said. "Help me carry him." Minho grabbed both of Tommy's legs while Newt took his arms, wincing, knowing that this would hurt like shuck.
"Count of three," someone ordered them, "One, two, three." They pulled Tommy up. The shank passed out.
Newt softened slightly and ordered the Gladers to get moving, most of them packed together around Tommy. They walked for hours before taking a quick brake during the hottest part of the day. Cranks attacked them there, fended off with ease. Tommy drifted into consciousness for only a minute before passing out once again. They kept travelling, Newt not leaving his brother's side once. They were out of the city by twilight. The cranks were long gone and they had left behind immense buildings for a small shack, almost like the homestead. It where they rested Tommy on the hard-packed ground.
Newt sat next to his brother in the now pleasant warmth. It soothed him slightly though in some ways made him even edgier. They had a blazing fire not far off that Jorge was tending to, a long knife poking the coals before resting there. A sense of foreboding settled over Newt. A few minutes later Jorge came over, holding the glowing knife over the now-conscious Tommy.
"You better hold him down. Legs and arms." Minho and Newt obeyed, pressing Tommy hard to the ground. The foggy mist in Tommy's eyes cleared slightly as a bit of panic poured into them.
'It's alright," Newt whispered to him mentally. He held the slim shoulders that were his brother's down. Newt was paying special attention not to antagonize the injured shoulder.
Jorge approached while Newt refused to so much as glance that way. Jorge used it to pull the bullet from Tommy's shoulder in the midst of a piercing scream that tore Newt's heart apart.
When the bullet was out, Jorge sat back as Tommy flailed against the ground, still being held down by his brother and friend. Newt tried desperately to take an edge of the pain, but failed.
A hour passed, then two, as Tommy's head thrashed back and forth like a fish out of water. It was two hours before he slowly stilled and calmed, body relaxing, pain slipping away. His eyes opened a long minute later, though were only half open and misty. Brenda sat on Tommy's other side, her small hand pressed into Tommy's.
"It's infected," Brenda said softly.
Tommy's eyes slipped closed once again and Newt reached out to squeeze his brother's arm gently. All he could do was hope the Glader would be alright.
It was only an few hours later, just as dawn was breaking, that there was a disturbance. The air was turbulent around them, rousing dust as an immense machine flooded the sky.
"Berg!" Jorge yelled, staring at the machine in awe. That was the strange machine that had left him and all the other cranks in the city.
After the great thing had landed, two people, dressed in large, baggy suits. To Newt they looked like aliens come to take over the earth. If that was what they looked like to him, Newt could only imagine what they looked like to Tommy, who had woken a few minutes before. Approaching silently and clumsily in their baggy suit, pushing Brenda, who was next to Tommy, away. One of the green-suited people grabbed Tommy's ankles, while the other grabbed Tommy's shoulders. A scream, pained and almost inhuman, ripped through Tommy's throat and sickened Newt to the core. He leapt at one of the green-suits, only to be shoved back and left sprawled on the ground. The two green-suits pulled Tommy off the ground. The boy blacked out, leaving the Gladers behind. The green-suits carried the still form away with Newt pressed following them closely. His brother was carried aboard the Berg and left his friends behind.
The Gladers paced until a few hours later when Newt froze, a voice whispering into his mind.
'Newt? What's happening?'
Overjoyed, Newt grinned so widely that his face split apart. 'Tommy! You're alright! You remember the hole gun-thing, right? Jorge got it out of ya, but it got infected, so those WICKs came and took you away in their Berg 'bout two hours ago. Everyone's worried sick!'
'Newt, enter my body.'
Closing his eyes, Newt relaxed and forced his mind away from his body. He could feel it collapse and then drifting, keeping focus on his brother to pull himself to Tommy. Finally, he reached him, and discovered his brother's eyes closed and body perfectly still. Newt reached out with his senses and discovered that Tommy was nervous, with voices encircling him. Each one was talking about Variables and Candidates.
'Weird, right?'
'That is bloody weird, mate. I'm gonna head off, back to the others before they start gunning me.'
Mind slipping away from his brother's body, Newt slowly slipped into his own body, grasping his senses back to himself.
A hand held Newt's head gently in place as he began to stir slightly.
"He's awake!" Someone shouted from nearby and Newt flinched at the sudden noise.
"Shut it!" He grumbled in annoyance, eyes fluttering open to stare at the face hovering over his. "Gah! Minho! Get out of my buggin' face!"
"Good to see you too, shank. What happened?"
"Nothin' much," Newt replied casually. "Just the use, ya know?" His voice was deadpan, but soon turned sarcastic. "My mind left my body, hence I think I collapsed on you, right? I went to visit Tommy."
Eyes from all around widened as people spoke up. They came in a torrent of voices, each one asking the same thing.
"Is he alright?"
"Where is he?"
"How's his shoulder?"
Raising his voice, Newt shouted at the people, "Slim it! Poor shank's scared klunkless and those bloody voices aren't helping either. Talking 'bout bloody Canidates and shucking Variables."
Minho brought up and ridiculous smile. "At least the poor shank's alright, though, right?"
"Right," Newt mumbled, tired from his out of body experience. The blond boy took comfort in the fact that his brother was alive.