●| I am only updating one chapter because, finally, I can publish a chapter that broke to 1K barrier. But is it deemed worthy of your critical eye (and reviews)? |●

●| DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MAZE RUNNER AND/OR PERCY JACKSON |●

●| NEWT #14 |●

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The screams that filled the Glade from the med centre were unexpected. For it was always known of that they were coming, unlike now. A person (usually Clint) would yell, alerting everyone that one of the Gladers had been stung, and no such warning had arrived.

The screams were raw and unfamiliar, as screams usually were. People change when they're in pain. I would know.

I quickened my pace, passing the Homestead toward the forest. What on the shuck-faced love of God was going on? Who was stung? I was bloody certain that I saw Minho earlier inhaling some of Frypan's grease. Had I seen Thomas? I hadn't seen him recently...

No, it couldn't be him, these screams were deeper. Not a bass 'aaahhh', nobody screamed like that, Thomas' screams were shriller.

Who the hell was it then? I hoped it wasn't some shuck-faced idiot who decided he was the best and could survive the bliddy Maze... I had barely stopped myself from killing Thomas when he had done it, even though he had saved both his ass and two VIPs (Very Irritating People).

I sprinted faster in the direction of the mini hospital, and the screams got louder and louder in my ears.

I reached for the handle, ready to wrench it open. But before my hand could touch the handle, the door swung open. I staggered back as it swung past my nose.

Before I could collect my bearings, I was forced back once again, but this time someone slammed into my chest and sent me sprawling onto the ground.

"Aahhh! What the hell man! Look where you're going!" I grunted as I clambered off the dusty ground and patted the brown marks off the knees of my pants.

I lifted my head to stare venomously at the clumsy egghead.

But before my eyes was a girl, about my age, with blood shot eyes and blonde hair twisted in a ratty pony tail.

I once again landed on my butt in the dirt. A GIRL! I stared at her in shock. What the heck was a girl doing in the Glade?! I haven't seen a girl since... damn. I don't even remember. But that made it worse! This was the first girl I've seen in THREE YEARS or something!? [How long was Newt in the Maze?]

I studied her for long enough for it to be rude. Her face was stained with dirt, peach skin painted below her eyes in the wake of her tears that flowed from her grey eyes. Her pupils stood out starkly against the paleness of her eyes, rimmed with spiked eyelashes.

She scowled as she scrubbed her face, glaring at me. "Has your mother never told you it's rude to stare?" she said angrily. I clambered up to my feet, mumbling numbly half earnest apologies.

A scream ripped through the fuzziness, clearing my vision and mind. I drew myself to my full height (which was still shorter than her) and puffed out my chest. "Who the shuck are you?" I demanded.

"Annabeth. And who the Hades are you?" she crossed her arms challengingly.

"Newt. Now, how did you bloody get into the Glade without us dragging your carcass out of the Box, huh?" I resented this curved ball the Creators were chucking at us.

"We were guided here," she replied vaguely.

My eyes widened. Who the hell brought them here? Was it the Creators? Did they lead them here? Was it one of us, because if it was, I was going to wring their scrawny little necks for not telling me first. "Who?" I growled.

She scanned my face calculatingly, "Thomas," she replied simply.

Thomas! That little snob, doing stuff without my permission, I fumed.

I barged past her, bursting into the dull hospital room. The screams resonated through the concrete walls, grating every surface of the hospital, lacing through the air, spiking my eardrums. I winced. This one had some lungs on 'em, I felt sorry for the mother.

I swivelled my head, searching for the noise's origin.

Lying on bed was a boy whose feet rattled the frame of the bed as he fought against the restraints binding him to mattress.

I rushed to his side to get a better look at him. He was completely alien to my eyes, face white under the sprinkle of freckles dotting his face. Tears darkened patches of the rumpled pillow beneath his head.

Nope. Never seen him before.

Another bloody Newbie!

Rage and confusion made my chest clench and my throat tighten. "THOOOOOMAS!" I roared, my voice rising above the wailing. I stormed down the aisle to the curtain that divided the room. I ripped the blue fabric out of my way.

A guy, clad with an army green T-shirt, was holding a conversation with the Med-Jack, Jeff. When I recognised the guy to be Thomas, I charged forward and spun him around, not at all gently.

"What did you do?" I spat. His eyebrows rose in unease, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

"Well..." he began and I gave his a pointed glare, "I met them in the Maze. I was on my usual run, but I ran into them. Annabeth ended up holding me at knife point trying to get answers out of me. That guy causing that ruckus? That guy, Percy, was stung, and they wanted the Cure. So I told them that they had to come here so he could heal without fear of being attacked by Grievers," he stared at me with an expression that was a weird combination of awe, wariness and fear. "And you know how he was stung? He was stung while killing a shucking Griever!" He rasped in an excited whisper, eyes wide with excitement and disbelief.

What? The only dead Griever we ever thought we had seen ended up NOT being dead. So I had every reason not to believe that an anybody could kill Grievers. I didn't even know if you could kill a Griever! Grievers would be snacking on Gladers for centuries to come (that is if the Glade survived that long). I eyed him suspiciously. "Where's the proof?" It was the best question I could come up with, but I needed some evidence that this that was shaking up my world was real, not just some kind of... theory.

He gulped, "Because I saw it, Newt. I saw the Griever. It was VERY dead. It was bleeding this slime that just surrounded it..." his voice was thick with disgust, his face scrunched up.

"How do you know that wasn't just... something that wasn't Griever blood? What if it was Griever... sweat? Mmmmm?" I asked, doubt laced in my voice. That queasy expression on Thomas' face was as real as it got, and if there was one thing I have learned from running this place, it was reading faces. And the look on his face, he wasn't lying.

"Well... They were covered in Griever slime and Annabeth looked pretty armed and Percy was trashed... but they were alive, and they could only be alive if that Griever was dead," Thomas reasoned.

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• | Can I just say, to everyone, that you don't have to suffer with the cliffhangers at the end of this chapter, and many that will come. I told you… Wattpad has the same chapters (from the lack of spell check on their app, it has worse grammer) but it has more of them. Up till chapter 16. And, just a warning, I talk a lot. Ya, ya, ya "nothing has changed" – but I have book recommendations and comments and a lot of blabbering… yeah…| •

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