(So I watched The Death Cure movie... I loved it and that surprised me. It honored the book but did things in unique ways. It was my favorite of the movies in the series. Which is completely opposite from my feeling about the books. All the character interactions are spot on. The relationship between Thomas and Teresa is front and center. The movie treated their relationship with so much depth and respect and portrayed both sides so well that I could not help but be impressed. Dozens of the scenes meant so much to me. That said, I still feel like my soul just had its ass kicked :) But we'll get through this. I am so committed to writing this. Even more after today. Long live Newt, Long live Thomas, Long live Minho, Long live Teresa. Paradise is for you and it always will be. Jadey11 and AmericanDaisy17 thank you for following, Skulalien and FireFliesWillFly thank you for the favorites. I do not own Maze Runner. Updated 6/15/18)
Thomas and Minho were eating in the Mess alone as Frypan approached and spoke.
"Damn fellas. You alright? I heard what happened with the wolves."
Minho kept eating. Thomas looked up at Fry and spoke.
"Is that all you heard?"
Fry sat down.
"Fraid not, Ryan's been telling anyone who will listen that Newt's a crank after all. Is that why Teresa has Newt confined to Medical?"
Thomas shook his head.
"That's a rumor man. Newt isn't a crank, and he's not confined anywhere. He volunteered to get checked out. Besides, Tes wanted him to stay with her."
Fry spoke.
"Man I feel so bad for her. I can't imagine trying to cook with only one hand. Any chance Teresa and Jorge will be able to reattach it?"
Thomas shrugged.
"I'm not sure. Teresa said they'd put her arm in stasis, but they wouldn't know more until Tes had some time to heal. I guess she had a lot of nerve damage. How are you feeling Frypan?"
"Fine now that the world stopped spinning. I gotta admit it feels good to be back. Sonya's a fair cook, but man, she can really mess up a kitchen."
Minho finished his last bite of food and spoke.
"Hey, Fry you got any more of this?"
Fry grinned.
"You like that huh? You're in luck; there's more where that came from!"
Fry took Minho's plate and walked across the hall. Thomas fired an incredulous look at Minho. Thomas spoke.
"How can you think of food at a time like this? Shouldn't you be, I don't know, making an announcement or calling a meeting or something?"
Minho wiped his mouth.
"Why?"
Thomas spoke.
"To get ahead of the rumors flying around about Newt? Before guys like Ryan and Gally form a lynch mob and take matters into their own hands."
Frypan returned to the table with another plate covered with vegetable pot pie. He slid it over to Minho.
"Here ya go Min, a double helping. You earned it."
Minho smiled as he dug in and spoke.
"Relax Thomas. So long as Newt doesn't start randomly losing his shit in the lunch line with vines growing out of his face, this thing with the wolves will blow over."
Thomas shook his head.
"We should be letting people know Newt's fine. Right now they only hear from Ryan."
Minho smirked.
"Let Ryan run his mouth, the only one who listens to him is Alice."
Thomas spoke.
"And Alice is popular with the girls from B. From what Sonya said she was like everyone's little sister. All I'm saying is if we ignore this, people are going to start drawing their own conclusions."
Minho shoveled two large bites into his mouth, chewed and swallowed before pointing to the unfinished plate. Minho spoke.
"Fry, can I take the rest of this to go? Thomas and I need to go for a walk."
Frypan laughed.
"Carry out huh. Yea I guess so, just make sure you bring your plate back clean. Otherwise, next time you come through the line, I'll just tell ya to cup your hands."
Minho smirked.
"Got it, Fry."
Minho stood abruptly, Thomas followed. Once they were out of earshot, Minho spoke.
"Are you trying to shuck things up for Newt or are you just that stupid?"
Thomas spoke.
"I'm trying to save Newt's shuckface-"
Minho interrupted.
"-Ok, so the second one. Let me educate you, Thomas. We both saw what Newt did. So did Ryan, so did Jake. So we can't go out there and start shilling about how Newt isn't a crank."
Thomas couldn't believe what he heard from Minho. His response grew more heated with each word as he spoke.
"He is fine. During the entire fight did Newt ever show any aggression towards us? He had plenty of opportunities. If you think he's just a blood-lusting crank with a skull full of black mush, it sure would have been a lot easier to kill us than a bunch of two hundred pound Timberwolves! Maybe you can explain how he went back to normal once he found out Tes was alive? Come on Minho, since you're the one with all the answers, tell me?!"
"Good point Thomas, but which question do you think people are gonna ask first? Yours or just how did Newt rip that wolf's face off? Hmmm, that's a toss-up. Could go either way."
Sarcasm was dripping from every word. Minho continued.
"Thomas, I know you think us swearing on a stack of bibles in front of the whole damned camp that Newt's 1000% fine is the right call but it's not. Here's what we know for sure. First, we have no idea whats happening to him. Second, you're the dumbest, smart guy I know. And third, the fact that he's our friend can't matter more than the safety of every other person here. So do yourself, me, and Newt a favor and let this klunk play out. Stop trying to control everything for shuck's sake; it's like you were raised by WICKED scientists or something."
Minho resumed shoveling food into his mouth. Thomas sighed and spoke.
"Fine. I guess that makes sense. And not that I haven't enjoyed this romantic walk but where are we going?"
"To the meeting, I called an hour ago. We gotta put down these rumors before that shuckface Ryan gets someone hurt."
Thomas stopped walking abruptly. He starred at Minho with a deadpan look on his face. Minho returned his look before laughing loudly.
"Thomas you make it too easy! Honestly, I'm not even sorry. God, that was great!"
Thomas spoke.
"So we are gonna help Newt. Was all that 'we gotta let this play out' just some shit to get a rise out of me?"
Minho pointed at Thomas grinning.
"Yup. Totally worth it! You should have seen the look on your angry shuckface. I thought you were going to turn into a crank next."
Thomas felt relieved to know Minho was still in Newt's corner. Even so, Thomas promised himself he was going to trip Minho the next time Harriet was around. Thomas spoke.
"You're such an asshole man."
"Yea, I get that a lot. And yea, of course, we've got Newt's back. We'll tell the truth about everything. Tell the others we still trust him with our lives blah, blah, blah, but we don't rail about how he's not infected. Hell, we're all infected right Mr. White Room? Each of us is chock full of Flare according to your dead pal Ratman."
Thomas hadn't thought about Janson in a long time. Part of him wondered if he'd ever feel guilty for killing him. But, if the way he felt right now were any indication, he never would. Minho continued.
"Ryan's putting this whole place at risk by spreading rumors that Newt's going to murdershuck us in our sleep. If he's so concerned for his own safety, we'll put him the most secure jail cell we got. That oughta help put his mind at ease. Either way, the rumors are gonna stop."
Thomas nodded and spoke.
"Speaking of the Slammer, Jorge technically owes three days for the Flat Trans stunt. Considering he's basically been working around the clock treating Brenda and now the thing with Tesla, I thought we could commute his sentence. I know Teresa could use the help."
"Like a work release thing? I like it. Yea, give him the option. Every hour he works past his eight-hour duty shift comes off his jail time."
Thomas smiled. Minho spoke.
"Glad we're on the same page but don't look so pleased with yourself Shank. That klunk was the easy stuff. From what Harriet said the people camped out on the other side of Flat Trans want to start trading with us for food and water."
Thomas spoke.
"So are they like a gang of cranks?"
"Harriet said at least one guy is immune. Said his name was Hudson. He's old too. She thought like maybe fifty or something. According to him, they've got over four hundred people squatting in that bunker underneath WICKED's old base."
Thomas felt himself getting excited about the prospect that normal people were still alive out there. Thomas spoke.
"That's great, but how do we know they aren't with one of the factions? Like Hyde, or Drakuza, or Daedalus?"
Minho spoke.
"That's just it; we don't. We'll have to figure it out as we go along. This shit is gonna turn into a minefield I can just feel it."
Thomas nodded as Minho continued.
"Look, Thomas, in a few hours Hudson is going to walk through Flat Trans, and we're going to negotiate. What happens during that negotiation is going to make or break us having contact with the outside world. For all, we know our new home is an island surrounded by the ocean a thousand miles in every direction. Which means short of us starting a Navy or Space Program we might not find another landmass in our lifetime. So when that meeting occurs, we need to have our shit together. If we go into this divided, I gotta figure the old man will know it."
Thomas spoke.
"What makes you think Hudson is anything but the spokesman for a bunch of refugees?"
Minho shook his head and spoke.
"We saw firsthand how bad it was in the scorch. Call it a hunch, but the only thing you can assume about broken down old man is that he's a survivor and if this Hudson guy got that many people from God know's where through WICKED's funhouse of cranks to our doorstep. It makes me think he really knows his shit."
Thomas and Minho continued walking for several minutes angling toward the southwestern corner of the camp. A very large rectangular barn came into sight in the distance. Thomas spoke.
"Don't tell me we're having the meeting at the Builder Barracks?"
Minho sighed and spoke.
"If I call the meeting, A Keeper choose's the place. Just our bad luck it was Gally's turn, but rules are rules, Thomas."
The Builder Barracks, named by Gally, was the most substantial structure in the entire camp. A three-story barn over fifty feet tall with twenty by twenty double sliding doors. It was one half frat house, one-half warehouse. Storing everything from building materials to medical supplies. Thomas spoke.
"Where is everybody? This place is usually teaming with guys."
As the pair approached the wide open doors, Thomas got his answer. The second floor and third-floor loft were packed to the rafters with Builders and onlookers alike. All positioned along the railings looking down at the main table from above. From what Thomas could tell the entire camp had come out for the meeting. As they walked inside Gally's voice called out to them from above.
"You guys are late as usual."
Gally slid down a long rope from the loft above to the main level landing. He took a seat at one end of a long wooden table and spoke.
"Pull up a chair. There's plenty of room around here ever since Harriet decided to do some spring cleaning."
Murmurs of support and condemnation rumbled from those gathered on the levels above. Harriet, who was already seated at the table, spoke.
"Slim it, Gally. Hi Min."
As Minho nodded acknowledging Harriet, Thomas planted his foot in front of Minho's boot landing Minho in the dirt. Thomas spoke.
"Whoa, watch your step man. Walking can be tricky."
Thomas looked up at Harriet and spoke.
"Minho gets clumsy around you Harriet."
Giving Minho a taste of his own medicine worked only too well. Laughter roared down from above. Harriet shook her head and giggled. Minho looked up staring daggers at Thomas. Thomas leaned in to help him up and whispered.
"Totally worth it."
Thomas grinned. Minho forced a smile on his face preferring to show grace under pressure even if he had to fake it. Minho stood. He whispered to Thomas through a smile with clenched teeth.
"I-hate-you-so-much-right-now."
Thomas slapped Minho on the back, and the pair took their seats.
To an outside observer, the arrangement of everyone around the table could have been mistaken for haphazard chaos. But it was actually following evolving protocol to the letter. All the Keepers agreed that for meetings of importance not only should everyone be welcome to attend but also speak, albeit through their Keeper. This required each of the Keepers to be in attendance. It wasn't like there were name tags for each seat, but the long table had several positions of distinction. The far end of the table was reserved for the host Keeper. In this case, Gally since the Builder Barracks was the venue. The head of the table for first in command. To first in commands' immediate right, was the position for second in command. There was no telling if Newt's chair would remain empty for tonight's meeting or not. Thomas wasn't sure how Newt would be received, and part of him wasn't anxious to find out.
The way the Builder Barracks was laid out, there wasn't a bad seat in the house. But that didn't stop the various workgroups from trying to stake out the best position to watch the proceedings for themselves. To Thomas, they looked like rival cliques hanging out before a high school pep rally. On the third level, Thomas could see the Track-Hoes, the Builders, the Fishers, and the Slicers. On the second level, His Runners, the Med-Jacks, the Cooks and Harriet's Baggers. The younger kids or Sloppers were scattered everywhere trying to make friends with the other workgroups. Even in Paradise, no one wanted to be a Slopper. Gally looked across the table to Minho and spoke.
"Are you going to call this meeting in session or should I?"
Thomas leaned past Harriet to speak to Minho.
"Neither Newt or Teresa is here. If something comes down to a vote, we'll need them. We should wait."
Gally spoke again.
"Look Minho, you Thomas and Harriet might have all day to shuck around, but my guys and I actually have real work to do. Can we start already?"
Harriet's eyes narrowed. Minho relented and spoke.
"Shuck it; we'll do it live."
Minho clapped his hands loudly and stood as he began.
"I heard a lot of klunk flying around camp this morning so here are the facts."
Gally interrupted him and spoke.
"Maybe we could start with where is Newt?"
Minho fired a death stare at Gally with some intensity borrowed from the prank Thomas pulled on him just before the meeting. Seeing the look in Minho's eyes made Gally wish he'd just kept his mouth shut. Minho was about to respond when another voice answered.
"Right here Shank!"
It was Newt walking in with Teresa. Teresa spoke.
"Sorry, we're late. It took someone longer than expected to say goodnight to Tes."
Newt and Teresa were taking their spots at the table. Teresa could see the concern on Thomas' face. She reached out to him telepathically.
*Don't worry Tom, Newt's fine. Actually, he's better than fine.*
Thomas nodded slightly without responding. He was relieved and intrigued. Now he was actually looking forward to the rest of this meeting. Teresa sat right next to Thomas taking her position as the Keeper of the Med-jacks. Minho spoke.
"Teresa, how's Tes?"
"She's going to be fine. She's stable and resting. In a few days I'll know more about whether I can save her arm."
Thomas spoke.
"That's great Teresa, good work."
Gally spoke skeptically as he addressed Newt.
"Hey Newt, how are you feeling?"
Newt smiled looking entirely like himself.
"Never better Gally, thanks for askin'."
Gally spoke again.
"Did Teresa run some serum through you or something?"
Teresa spoke.
"I need to address this-"
Teresa looked at Minho and spoke.
"-can I have the floor?"
Minho nodded and opened his palm inviting Teresa to stand and speak. Teresa did.
"I know there have been a lot of fantastic and horrifying stories going around camp about what happened with Newt and the wolves. I'm here to tell you, what you heard is true..."
The crowd collectively gasped. Ryan spoke out from the Runner's side of the second level.
"See! I told you!"
Teresa continued.
"Here's something else that's true. I examined Newt's Killzone with Jorge, Aris, and Genevieve. We all came to the same conclusion. Newt's completely immune."
Gally stood irreverently and spoke.
"How can that be? If he's got symptoms, he's a crank."
A girl's voice called down from above. It was Genevieve.
"Permission to speak Keeper?"
Teresa nodded. The room quieted. Genevieve was an eighteen-year-old girl from site B. Immune, highly intelligent and somewhere on the Autism spectrum diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. Genevieve alternated between vacuously staring into space or the ground as she spoke.
"Thank you, Keeper. Teresa is correct. Newt will never die from Flare. It was believed that Newt was included in the trials as a control. A baseline to determine how a normal human would react. This assessment was inaccurate. Newt was not born immune, but his brain has a unique morphology represented in less than .001% of the pre-flare population. Due to this, an early serum WICKED produce from Thomas' blood has permanently altered his Killzone making it impossible for the virus to compromise him. On the contrary, Newt's unique brain morphology combined with prior late-stage Flare infection has allowed him to compromise the virus."
Genevieve looked away. Teresa spoke.
"Newt's not a threat. He's a gift. And here's why-"
(To be continued my fellow Gladers :) Incidentally, if any of you would like to submit a character in this story PM me with your character name, brief description, personality, etc. I have trouble keeping my character descriptions straight and would be happy to outsource that to you since your all writers. I'm grateful to be in a community with you. I feel like I walk among Giants. Input = output. Thank you so much for reading, I value you and your reviews, follows, and favorites so very, very much :)