Part Six

Hey, guys! Thanks so much for the awesome reviews. You've made my day with them. Anyway, here's part six. I put the song lyrics in the beginning because I thought Harder to Breathe really describes the Runners who got Stung and infected (or at least ONE of them...). You can look it up and see what I mean :)

Hope you like this chapter! (Sorry for the cliffhanger again...)

"Like a little girl cries in the face of a monster that lives in her dreams:

Is there anyone out there

Cuz it's getting harder and harder to breathe."

–Maroon 5

When Newt reached the Map Room, he hesitated. The door stood before him, familiar, like coming home after school. But now it held an ominous aura around it. It dared him to open it. If the two infected Runners were inside, and if what Alby had said about the Serum was true, then they were most likely out of their minds. Insane. Delirious. Cannibals, as Alby had said. Newt could barely imagine something more horrible than his closest friends being bloodthirsty monsters, changed by the Sting of a Griever. He didn't want to open this door. Somehow, he knew, they were inside.

Cold claws of frost seemed to dig under his skin. He had to do it. He had to know. He steeled his courage. And he flung open the door in one motion. What he saw inside changed him forever. At first, there was just the table, strewn with maps, the wooden chests and papers. Everything in its organized chaos. The windows were firmly closed. Normal. Then he saw Max.

The redhead stood across the room from Newt, letting the table support his weight. His posture was poor, shoulders slumping. His breaths came in shaky bursts. He raised his gaze when Newt opened the door, and his pupils shook strangely. Blood stained his chest and shoulder, dried and purple. Ugly. His breathing rattled as though more blood was caught in his lungs and when he saw Newt, no recognition registered in his crazed eyes. Instead, he peeled his lips back in an animalistic growl, low in his throat.

He wasn't the only person in the room. Someone else was there, his back to Newt, terrifyingly close to the blonde. He too turned his head when Newt entered. Newt wanted to cry. He deflated in despair, one hand frozen on the door. "Oh, Minho..." he whispered sadly.

Minho frowned at the sound of his name, but there was no sign that he even knew who Newt was. Crusted streams of blood spidered down his right arm from his shoulder. His normally-flawless, olive-toned skin was crisscrossed with scratches. His body jerked unnaturally, his chest heaving. He braced both hands on the table, turning away from Newt again, and coughed roughly. Newt was sickened by the thin line of scarlet that came from Minho's throat.

"Wellllll," Max drawled, catching Newt's attention. The redhead leered maliciously, staggering from the table and nearly falling. "Look...at...THIS. Look who came to play with us." He cackled manically, like this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

Minho bared his teeth in his trademark smirk, but it looked more like a twisted snarl. "The little Greenie," he slurred.

"You wanna play with us?" Max asked, grinning darkly at Newt.

"Yeah, you wanna play?" Minho put in.

Newt couldn't speak. Max stumbled closer, coming around the table as though he was drunk. He growled again, sending a shiver down Newt's spine. "I can show you how," he offered.

Minho barked a laugh, and looked Newt up and down. "I'd play with that," he remarked, low.

Max giggled so hard, he snorted. Then he straightened and held up his arms. Very deliberately, he sank his nails into his elbow and drew four lines of red the whole way down to his wrist. Newt gaped. Max was smiling. "That's how you play," he explained. "Please try not to scream."

"Yes, don't scream," Minho pleaded, with ridiculous puppy eyes.

"It was so annoying when Dee did."

"Ugh."

"We had to shut him up, fast."

"But if you don't scream, we can keep you."

Newt's gaze flicked between them frantically. Dee. Daniel. What did they do to him? Who were these people? Who were these monsters? "Max, Minho," he began slowly. "You need help, okay? You need the Serum. Now I need you both to just stay here, and I'll go get Alby. Okay?" And he started to back away.

Lightning-fast, Minho darted forward and slammed the door shut. He kept one hand on it, pinning Newt back against it. Max rounded the table then and joined Minho, a sneer contorting his face. They crowded in on him and trapped him from either side. "Aww, you don't wanna run away so fast, do you?" Max asked in mock hurt. "We just wanna have some fun, don't we, Minho?"

"Yeah, just a little fun," Minho agreed.

They leaned in more.

And terror made Newt act.

He drove his heel down hard into Max's foot. Max howled in pain and fury, falling back against the table. At the same time, Newt swung his fist at Minho's face. With startling speed, Minho caught him by the wrists and shoved him back against the door again. He felt the Keeper's nails digging painfully into his skin and a strangled whimper left him. "Minho!" he cried. "Stop!"

"Minho! Stop!" Minho mocked in a poor impression of Newt's accent.

"Minho, please!"

"Minho, please!" Minho laughed at himself in twisted glee.

Newt snapped. He hauled off, wrenching his arm free with all of his strength, and slapped Minho across the face. Minho jerked to one side, the crack of the blow sounding in the little room. He whipped his head right back around, blazing with anger, and snarled at Newt. "You little bastard! I'm gonna tear your throat off!" As though he was going to do just that, he buried his fingers deep in Newt's hair and slammed the blonde's head back against the door.

Newt cried out. He struggled in vain to free himself, but Minho had an iron grip. "Please, Minho!" he begged breathlessly. "Look at me!" Minho bent forward, tightening his grip in Newt's hair. "Minho, LOOK at me!" Newt felt tears building in his eyes. "You know me, I know you do! Look at me, please!" Minho gave a shudder, his other hand shooting up to close over Newt's throat. Newt choked as the fingers gripped hard. A single tear escaped and raced down his face. "M—Minho," he gasped. "Please, look at me. Please see me."

"I do see you," Minho rasped. He turned once and hacked again. Blood spattered into the floor. He glowered at Newt.

Newt's lungs were on fire. He pried at Minho's fingers, but it was no use. "Please..."

"You're dead," Minho told him grimly.

"Min..."

"You hear me? Forget stupid games. I'm killing you now."

Tears streaked Newt's face. He was going to die. He managed to pull in a short breath. "That's...okay," he croaked. "Hear me, Minho? It's okay. It's okay." He met those mocha-dark eyes, now glazed over with insanity. He couldn't breathe anymore. "...I love you, Minho."

Minho's body jumped as though he'd been shot. He sucked in a harsh gasp and bowed his head. A tremble racked his shoulders. Newt felt the hold on his neck loosen. When Minho lifted his head, there was a minuscule shred of sanity in his gaze. "Newt?" he stammered, his voice breaking under the weight of the Sting's poison.

Hope pricked at Newt's heart. "Minho," he managed, throat sore. "You have to...come with me."

"I can't." Minho fought for the words. He glanced over his shoulder at Max, who was watching icily. "We'll hurt—someone."

"No, you won't," Newt argued. "You're fine now, okay? Just come with me, let me get you to Alby."

"I'm not—gonna risk it," Minho gasped. "I can't hurt—you."

"You won't."

"You know I might."

Newt watched as Minho dragged his hands away from his neck. The Keeper stepped back, shivering violently. A broken sound left his throat and he ducked his head into his hands. Newt hurried toward him, but halted when Minho barked, "don't come near me!" Already his attitude was changing, as the venom worked its way inside him. "Tell Alby—to kill us," he rasped, indicating himself and Max.

"I can't do that."

"You will."

"No."

Minho moaned and spit out more blood. "If you love me, you will." He turned away then. A cough ripped from his chest. He held onto a chair for support.

Newt was losing him. "Minho—"

"Just go! Get out of here!"

"But—"

"Leave!" Minho's expression blackened. "Get AWAY from me!"

Newt didn't know what else to do. He had to save him. He had to save him. But first, he needed Alby. With a stone in his throat, he opened the door.

Max's face ignited in madness. "You're letting him get away!" He lunged for Newt, fingers like curled claws. He made it two strides before Minho let out a feral noise unlike anything Newt had ever heard. Max stopped in frustration. "He's LEAVING," he protested.

"Don't you dare touch him," Minho snarled. It was the last sane thing he said, before he was lost again.

Newt ran. He didn't look back.

-o-o-o-

By the time Newt made it back to the Homestead, it was fully night in the Glade. The sky was a sheet of navy velvet, brimming with scattered stars. An icy wind swept over the grass and it whispered under his feet as he ran. Gladers were fast asleep all around, unaware of the danger in their home. Newt fought against tears as he ran, frantic to find Alby. There had to be a chance to save them, there had to be. He couldn't lose his best friend. He couldn't lose Minho. Not like this.

He made it to a side door of the Homestead, that led to where the two Med-jacks treated injured Gladers. It was a small room with two beds at one side, a table of medicines, and a cracked mirror at one wall. Newt knew because he'd been in there once, after the first Griever attack. He burst through the door now, gulping for air. His wide eyes found Alby first; the dark-skinned boy was standing over one of the beds, thumbs slung in his jeans pockets. Brian lay on top of the sheets, sweat beading his forehead. A Med-jack with short brown hair and blue eyes—Jeff—was winding a bandage around Brian's leg with careful fingers. Everyone glanced up in alarm when Newt arrived.

Alby was instantly on-alert. "Did you find them?" he demanded grimly.

Newt nodded, shutting the door behind him. He fell against it, shutting his eyes. "Yeah," he panted out loud. "They're in the Map Room."

"And how bad are they?" Alby asked.

Newt was silent.

Alby's face became a mask of anger and growing fear. "Dammit, Newt, tell me," he ordered.

"They didn't even know who I was," Newt admitted in a small voice.

Alby closed his eyes. "Shuck," he hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Brian tried to prop himself up on an elbow. "Wh—who was it, Newt?" he asked.

Newt avoided eye contact with anyone when he said it. "Max and Minho."

Brian gave a disappointed groan and flopped back onto the pillows. Alby swore under his breath. "Great. Now we got our Keeper of the Runners going insane. Just great." He kicked at the floor and paced a few steps back and forth, lost in thought. He exhaled a drawn-out sigh. "They're too dangerous," he said, half to himself. "Even if we get close enough to give them the Serum, I have no clue what they'll be like during the Changing. This has never happened before. Never. ...dammit!" He bit out the last word, realizing what decision was best for the Gladers as a whole. "We have to kill them."

Jeff bent over his work like he didn't want to listen anymore and Brian groaned again.

Newt pushed off the door immediately. "No."

"Newt, I understand that they're your friends, but this has to happen."

"No, it doesn't. We can get them the Serum, we can save them."

"You don't know that for sure."

"I don't care."

"Newt!" Alby snapped. He pointed at the blonde. "This is what's best for everyone. You hear me, EVERYONE. I need to protect these people. Right now, all of the Gladers are asleep in the upper floors. If Max or Minho get into the Homestead and get past us, they'll kill whoever they find until they're stopped. I'm not letting that happen. I'm ending this. This is what Minho and Max would've wanted."

"They wouldn't have wanted to die!" Newt argued. "They would choose to live, if they knew there was a chance for them!"

"And what if there is no chance? What if the Serum doesn't work?"

"I still want to try."

"What is it with you? Why can't you just shut up and see that what I'm saying makes sense?"

Brian spoke up then, softly. "Because he's in love with Minho."

The room went silent. Jeff paused, holding a bandage in his fingers. Newt was frozen in place. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs. Alby frowned at him. "Newt. Is this true?" he asked, calmer now.

Newt nodded numbly.

Alby didn't say anything for a long long moment. Then he seemed to brace himself, squaring his shoulders. "Then you have to think about what's most important for all of the Gladers," he said slowly. "And not what's most important to you."

Newt was paralyzed, both from the statement and from the dawning truth. They were going to kill Minho. They were going to KILL MINHO. A memory surfaced unbidden in his mind, of Minho saying goodbye before entering the Maze without Newt. Newt fought a sob down and willed himself to be strong. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor. "Okay," he mumbled. "I'll just... Okay."

Alby studied him critically. Then he huffed out a breath and turned to Jeff. "Jeff," he said, and the Med-jack blinked. "Where do you keep the syringes of the Serum?"

Jeff sat up on his knees by Brian's bed and pointed to a drawer at the far corner of the room. "There's probably a couple in there," he told Alby. "And there's more in another room down the hall. We always keep some in here for emergencies though."

"Okay, good. We might need them. Now, I'm going to go back to the Map Room with Newt." Alby flashed Newt a warning through cutting eyes. "We'll try to give Max and Minho the Serum. But if they get crazy, and we can't do it, I'm not letting them out of there alive. Understand?"

Newt didn't want to agree. He was not going to throw away Minho's life. But the numbness had settled inside of him now and he only said, "okay."

Alby seemed satisfied with that. "Okay. Jeff, stay here with Brian. I'm going to—" He stiffened abruptly, halfway to the drawer of syringes. His gaze had moved to something on the opposite side of the room, farthest away from the four Gladers. Jeff laid down the bandages very slowly. Brian's fists curled into the blankets. Newt turned to face the door; his pulse stopped when he saw that it was open and two figures were standing there, their faces contorted into demonic sneers.

Max waved and winked in eerie playfulness. "Miss me?"