A/N: This version's more accurate to the one I first thought of when I listened to No One's Here to Sleep, so I decided to rewrite it but still leave the first one because it wasn't so bad. Parts of it – especially the beginning – are the same in both fanfictions, but then it changes at some points and ends up differently. Hope you'll like this one as well, if you've read both, and if you haven't then go check the other out and feel free to tell me which did you prefer!

* I don't own anything *

The Glade was peaceful as everybody was going to sleep. The emotions that Alby's condition as well as Teresa's arrival had caused had went down, exhaustion wining over every Glader. The night was so quiet, it hadn't been that way for what seemed like ages, but a very few had had time to notice; the others had drifted in deep slumber in a matter of minutes. It almost felt odd, nearly impossible. The Maze was too calm…

The ground began to shake as loud and messy sounds brutally awakened the Gladers.

"What's goin' on?" Thomas frowned at Newt and sat in his hammock.

Alby, who was sleeping beside them, jumped to his feet and ran as best as he could towards the middle of the Glade.

"Ain't ya gonna wait for me, bloody shuck-face!?" Newt followed him.

Thomas glanced over at Chuck who was shifting in his hammock, eyes still closed, probably confusing reality with a nightmare. "Hey! Wake up, buddy!"

Chuck opened his eyes and straightened in a flash, sweating and panting as he looked around him. He stared at something behind Thomas and began to breath rapidly and unevenly. "Oh my gosh…"

"What–"

Thomas turned around to see what had caught the boy's attention. The door leading to the maze was opening. In the middle of the night. A door he didn't know even existed, as well as two others. Basically, the four existent entrances to the maze were opening.

Chaos started to grow in the Glade as everybody was running around, freaking out. The alarm that rang when the box was usually coming up was heard but only once and the doors were all wide opened. Time stopped in the Glade as everybody tried to understand what that alarm meant.

Then a bunch of teenagers near one of the entrances shouted and ran away towards the forest.

"Run!"

"Save your holes!"

"Shuck!"

"We're gonna die!"

Newt watched them run and then brought his attention inside the rectangle-shaped hole in the huge concrete wall: Grievers. Coming from everywhere. At least a dozen of them.

Alby and him made a quick eye contact and then turned to alert everyone. His heart was beating so fast in his chest, he could've had a heart attack at any moment.

"Grievers! Grievers everywhere!"

Alby ran toward the tool shed to get weapons as Thomas, Chuck, Teresa and other Gladers catch up with Newt.

"What do we do?" Teresa asked out of breath.

As if he had the entire plan already made up in his head, Newt looked behind her and gave orders to the Gladers that'd followed them. Then he nodded over at Thomas as to say to follow him.

They hid in cornstalks, but Grievers found them and they had to find another shelter. They'd tried to defend themselves with their weapons – Teresa even nearly set one on fire – but it wasn't enough, they could still find them. Alby put her in charge of Chuck and with Zart, they were the first ones to run toward they're next shelter: the Council Hall.

"Isn't there any better place to hide than in a corner?" Thomas asked in a whisper when he was close to Newt, causing him to nervously turn around.

"It's the only place left," he explained.

"What about the Box? Even the Blood House? C'mon, hiding in a corner isn't the smartest of things to do, man!"

Newt looked him deep in the eyes and Thomas could see as much fear as frustration in them, making him take a step back in surprise. Newt raised a finger in front of his face and closed the gap between them to make sure he'd be understood once and for all. As he stepped forward – as best as he could since they were crouching – Thomas noticed his friend's lids narrow and a scowl deforming his face for a second as if he'd stepped on a piece of glass.

"Look around, bloody klunk," Newt said, on a softer tone than Thomas expected. "Anything you thing of there's people inside and Grievers around… it's the last option."

Before Thomas could add a single word Alby came up to them. He was panting and clearly had been trying to save someone from the Grievers considering the tears filling his eyes.

"We're the last shanks, we gotta go now!"

They located the Council Hall and the nearest Griever and concluded that they might be able to make it on time if they ran straight towards their destination. Newt smelled hopelessness and discouragement, but Thomas said nothing to point it out, figuring out that it was his own way to react to the situation. As for Alby, he was way too deep in his calculating and estimation to notice any of it.

They finally ran out of the cornstalks and began their race to the Council Hall. Thomas was ahead, shorty followed by Alby while Newt, who'd started off pretty well, started to slow down after only a few yards. Thomas looked over his shoulder to see the boy limping dangerously and the Griever starting to catch up. He slowed his pace and Alby passed by him without even saying a word or looking at him.

"Newt!" Thomas called for him, trying to get him to run faster.

"Don't worry 'bout me, Greenie! Just go!" Newt shouted back.

But Thomas didn't listen and looked around to find two spears on the ground away from him. He went to take one and threw it over at the Griever, catching one of its robotic arm as it fell. The creature screamed, sending shivers down his back, and then it began to run even faster.

"Oh, SHIT!" Thomas protested and went to get the second spear that was further behind him.

It was dark and he struggled to find it, but finally did and turned around just in time to see Newt stumbling and falling, pointing away at the Council Hall as he looked at Thomas.

"Please Tommy, please!" he begged. "Save yourself!"

The Griever'd caught him just when he'd finished his sentence, dragging him across the ground as he screamed. Thomas shouted and threw the spear at it, touching it and causing it to run towards him. But what had to be done had been done and there was nothing to do; another Griever had taken his friend as himself was running away to save his skin for at least a few more minutes.

He'd witnessed the whole thing.

He'd left Newt behind.

Newt was dead now.

Because of him.

It felt as if the world was running slow as he ran to the others who already were in the new shelter. Thomas felt numb, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't just stop now and give up on everything. He couldn't give up on Newt. His eyes were filled with tears, blurring his sight, but he still forced his legs to take him inside.

They closed the door behind him and he broke down in tears, kneeling and using his hands for support. Thomas barely felt the exhaustion of the running, but instead felt terribly guilty and Newt's last words were playing on repeat in his brain.

Followed by his scream when they caught him.