Minho raced down the hall, his stamina built as a Runner finally being put to use. The gun in his holster banged against his thigh, and he held the electric gun from the Maintenance Lab in front of him. Gally shouted from behind him which way to turn, which was good, as Minho always had a lousy sense of direction.
He used to work extra hard to memorize the Maze.
Minho turned a corner, and came upon the first corridor, the hallway they had walked down when they first entered the building after the Maze. A jolt of memory hit him as he pictured walking down this hall of factory technology, following Rat Man, who was promising that they would be safe now.
God, Minho was glad he was dead.
Minho paused behind a broken down forklift to catch his breath. Gally approached a minute later, clutching his chest. "Okay slinthead, what are we thinking? Bullets or electricity?"
"I dunno." Minho peered around the corner, fully aware of the danger that waited for them not far away.
"Whatever." Gally pulled his gun out of his holster, holding one weapon in each hand. "Try to take out as many of them as you can."
Minho gritted his teeth as his grip tightened on his taser, trying to psych himself up for the mission. Though he didn't want to die, he'd run head into a line of cannons for his friends.
Which was what he was about to do.
He nodded once to Gally, and the two crept silently through the corridor towards the southeast wing. It was undeveloped, and still had piping, machinery and other factory equipment strewn about. They could hear the heavy thumping of boots echoing from all directions as they searched for signs of Thomas. Metal shelves lined the old factory room, creating passageways filled with dusty merchandise no one had any need for anymore.
Gally waved Minho over to a pile of barrels stacked at the end of one shelving unit, creating a temporary hiding place.
"You sure those lil' assholes are down here?" A gruff voice wafted down the corridor, accompanied with heavy footsteps.
"I don't know. Haven't seen a sign of 'em. Maybe we tell th' boss, I'm getting hungry."
Gally and Minho exchanged a panicked glance, and Gally extended his gun above the barrels, and with a wince, he shot.
A shout rang out, followed by the soft thwump of a body hitting the floor. "Hey! There's somebody there! Hey! They're over there!"
"You sure this is a good plan?" Minho asked sarcastically as they scrambled out of the barrel-cave and started running down the next hall of shelves, heavy boots thumping after them.
"Just keep 'em busy!"
Gally pulled Minho around a corner, trying to lose the soldiers in the maze of dusty supplies. The buzz of the fluorescent factory lights above almost drowned out the shouting and stomping of their pursuers.
Almost.
Gally let out a round of shots behind him, and pain filled grunts ensured they had hit their targets. But that only brought more attention, and shouting echoed through the huge room.
"There they are!"
The two jumped as shots rang out around their heads, and three soldiers appeared at the end of the makeshift hallway.
"Shit!' Gally tried to pull Minho ahead, but he shrugged him off. They needed something between them, the soldiers, and the constant peppering of shots that kept missing Minho's head by centimetres. Minho ran towards the tall metal shelf, stacked improperly, a mismatched array of heavy items on the very top.
"Minho what the hell are you doing?!"
The Asian boy ignored Gally, and with a roar, he slammed into the shelving unit.
"Help me move this thing!"
Gally ran at the unit, wincing as a bullet whistled past his ear, and with a couple extra shoves, the tall metal shelves toppled with a deafening crash to the concrete. The two watched in stunned awe as the shelf hit the others, creating a terrifyingly huge domino effect, and the sound of metal crashing against concrete was deafening.
"C'mon, c'mon!"
The shelves created a temporary barricade, but it wouldn't last forever, as gunshots pinged off the floor and ceiling, raining sparks down around them.
"Think this is distracting enough?" Gally yelled as they dodged bullets, weaving around forklifts and a large crane.
Minho could only hope so.
Thomas released his grip from Newt, to look him over. He couldn't get over this fact, that Newt was back, smiling at him. That smile comforted Thomas in a way that he didn't think possible.
"Are you okay? Well, obviously not, but how you doing?"
Newt shrugged. "I'll live. Can't move my bloody shoulder, and I probably need 'bout 2 pints of blood to be fully right, but I'm okay."
"Okay, we gotta get you out of here. Can you stand? Can you walk?"
"Doubt it."
"Okay, but we gotta try. Put your arm around my shoulders, I'll help you walk."
Suddenly, a wave of pain passed through Newt, and he let out a small cry of discomfort, his face twisting with agony.
"Tommy, would ya mind putting my shoulder back? Can't move the bloody thing, and it hurts like some bastard's stabbing me."
Thomas had to half smile at the British slang used by his friend, but was filled with tense worrying. He had never put a shoulder back in, and he didn't watch Gally fix Brenda's. But he nodded because Newt was trying not to show how much pain he was in, though Thomas could tell through the agony behind his eyes.
Thomas took a deep breath as he positioned his hands on Newt's right arm. He gritted his teeth as he pulled the arm, and Newt let out a singular cry of pain as a distinctive pop echoed around the small room.
"You good?"
Newt kept his eyes squeezed shut but he nodded as he bit his bottom lip.
"Okay. Okay, let's get you moving. We're meeting Gally and Minho further along."
"Minho's here?" Newt struggled into a sitting position, a pain filled grimace on his face.
"Yeah. We're all getting you out. Brenda and Fry and Jorge came too, but then the Berg crashed and they had to turn around."
Newt had stopped moving, and sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his hands, his hair flopping down to cover his eyes. But it didn't hide the dejection written all over his face.
"Newt? What's wrong?"
"Why did you come?"
The question startled Thomas. "What d'you mean? We couldn't leave you here! We had to save you, like Minho, remember?"
"You were out Thomas! You were safe, you were free! Why did you risk your lives for me? I told you to stay away! You were supposed to run." Newt shook his head, letting out a long sigh. "I'm not worth risking your life, Thomas."
Thomas frowned at the usage of his full name, but sat next to Newt on the bed.
"Are you shucking kidding me, Newt? I could not live with myself knowing I could have saved you. My life felt like nothing. You are so worth risking my life. We all risked everything because we needed you, Newt. You're the Glue of this group. We could not live without you. We had a chance to save you, and we took it, because we need you. And we're going to get you out, okay? You gotta give me everything you got. We're gonna be free. So let's go, okay?" Thomas kept his arm around Newt, and helped him up off the bed. He struggled with standing, and wobbled precariously, but with the steady support arm of Thomas, they managed to cross the room to the cloudy glass doors.
"We're going to get out of here, alright?"
Newt nodded. "Let's go."
Suddenly, the doors slid open, revealing a woman with chocolate brown skin, flyaway curls and dark red lipstick. Her eyes widened, then narrowed as she observed Newt on his feet, leaning heavily on Thomas.
"Thomas." she said cooly.
"Clarisse." Newt said quietly, panic widening his eyes.
She calmly reached for the radio strapped to her jacket, and pressed a button. "What?" a voice crackled out.
"Sir, I was just going to check on 4-B." Her eyes trained on Thomas, a subtly malicious expression on her face. "I believe I have just found Thomas."