Author's note ~
This one is a tad bit shorter than the others, but it would have cut off in an awkward place had I tried to make it longer. I hope you enjoy. ^.~
Newt's last exchange with the man kept running through his head.
"It's a far sight better than the alternative. Once we're pried your ass out of here, you'll see."
-tap-
No.
Newt was up and out of his hammock before the birds started singing to greet the sun. Too early to meet with the other runners and head into the maze, and far too early for anyone else to be up and about. He pulled his boots on in irritated jerks and hurried away from his sleeping quarters; he didn't want to wake any of the other boys. Just because he hadn't managed more than an hour or two of restless sleep didn't mean he had to get everyone else up right at the crack of dawn. He snagged an apple and some left over flatbreads from the cook hut and slunk past the haphazard shelters at the centre of the glade, munching on his breakfast as he scurried through the field to the box.
Flopping down on the ground beside the box, Newt peered inside. As he'd thought, he found the man in the same spot he'd left him in. Not wanting to wake him if he had managed to find a way to sleep in such an awkward position, Newt pitched his voice barely above a whisper.
"New day, greenie. You awake?"
The greenie lifted his head a bit, looking for the source of the voice. When he found it, he locked green eyes all but bruised with exhaustion on the blonde boy who'd come to check on him. In the watery morning light, Newt could clearly see the meal left beside him the night before; untouched. The water bottle and small canvas bag, both still obviously full, sat beside the full bowl.
"Y'know you can't just starve yourself to death, right?"
The spoon hit the side of the bowl, just like the night before.
-tap tap-
Yes.
"You really should eat something. Or, at the very least, have a ruddy drink of water. I don't know why you're so shucking comfortable right there, but if you keep this up, you'll be too weak to be able to move from that spot."
-tap tap-
Yes.
"Is that what you want?" Newt demanded angrily.
-tap-
No.
The answer startled Newt. The greenie didn't want to be weak, didn't want to be stuck in place, but he still refused to take any sustenance. Why? This whole situation would be so much easier if the slinthead could just talk to him.
"What do you want, greenie? How can I help you if I don't know how to?"
In response the man held out his hand, as he had the night before.
"Forget it, shank. I'm not giving you a bloody knife." Hearing the usual sounds of the glade starting to come to life for the day, Newt resignedly got to his feet. "I'm off, I've work to do today. I'll send Jeff in to take a look at you and switch out your bandages."
A weary, frustrated two fingered salute from the man.
Jogging back the way he came, Newt managed to collar Jeff before the med-jack's eyes were fully open for the day. Knowing he would have to get his ass in gear and meet the other runners at the door momentarily, he kept his instructions brief and to the point.
"Check on the green bean today, would you? Change his wraps, check his pulse. See if you can talk some food into him. Oh, and do not take any kind of knife or blade into the box with you, got it?"
"B'why?" Yawned Jeff, "...is so much easier to cut the old bandages off than untie them."
"Just...don't, okay? I have a bad feeling that if that shank gets anything sharp, we'll have a real issue."
"Is he dangerous?" Jeff asked nervously, suddenly fully awake.
"Nah, I don't reckon so. He seems glued to that spot on the box, haven't seen him move from it yet. I doubt he'd be able to get up on his own, at this point. Just don't want to take the risk, y'know? Just check on him Jeff, keep an eye on him. I'll be back this evening."
Newt turned and sprinted away before Jeff could protest, darting toward the doors to the maze. Coming to a sudden stop in front of the three other boys gathered there, he tried his best to look as though he arrived rested and ready for another difficult day running. Minho, keeper of the runners for the last number of months, cocked and eyebrow and gave Newt a decidedly sarcastic look, but didn't comment. Taking his place on Minho's right flank, he tried to ignore the teasing looks on the faces of the two other boys. Newt was religiously punctual; they'd be able to tease him about this for forever.
"Let's go!" Barked Minho, just as the doors groaned their way fully open.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Another bloody useless wasted day, Newt thought to himself as the four boys returned to the glade that evening. They were a bit earlier than anticipated, but Minho had decided to cut their explorations short rather than enter an unfamiliar section so late in the evening, and as soon as the doors closed for the evening the maze would begin to change again. Who knew how long it would be before they found that section again? What was the point?
The four boys jogged to the cook hut, Ben and Jack happily talking back and forth, wondering aloud what Frypan had put together tonight. Ben said something about sweet talking the cook out of an extra portion, and Jack punched his arm, laughing. Just another day, another run. Still no way out.
The runners collected their meals, scarfing the warm almost palatable hash down where they stood. Running was hungry work. Shoving down his discouragement at another day lost in the quest to solve the maze, Newt hailed Alby and Jeff from where they stood, involved in intense conversation. After he had all but licked his bowl clean.
"Newt. Anything new?"
Newt shook his head, trying not to look glum. Trying to keep the hope alive for the other boys was almost as important and finding a way out.
"Ah, well. There's always tomorrow, I guess."
"What about you two?" Newt asked. "Our new face up and about yet?"
The two darker boys exchanged a worried glance. "Actually, we need to talk to you about that." Alby stated. "I'm afraid the situation is deteriorating. I don't know if we can save this one."
"What do you mean?" Newt demanded.
"Jeff?"
At Alby's encouragement, Jeff shuffled his feet nervously, not quite looking at Newt. "Well, I did as you said. Went and saw him, talked to him a bit. Checked his wrists, rewrapped them. He made a couple of gestures I couldn't understand, though I did try. I tried to check the old bandage on his leg, but he kept swatting my hands away. Then he started tugging at the bandage on his neck. I asked if he wanted me to take it off, and he nodded, I swear. When I was looking for the knot, I tried to get him to bend his head forward so I could check the back and he totally freaked on me. Shoved me away so hard I fell flat on my ass. Couldn't get close enough to him to check it again. And he hasn't moved at all from the spot you guys found him in, it's really strange. Any chance his wrists weren't the only spot he was tagged to the box?"
At Jeff's words, a flash went off in Newt's head.
The greenie's arms had been bolted to the box.
The greenie hadn't moved from his slump since the box came up.
The greenie had freaked when Jeff had tried to move his head.
The greenie hadn't spoken a word or made any sound at all.
The greenie hadn't eaten or drunk at all.
The greenie had asked for a knife.
Was his neck tagged to the metal frame of the box too? Tied there by the bandages, or held in place with something even worse?
Newt turned and ran towards the box abruptly, startling the boys gathered for dinner. Calling for the others to follow, Alby ran after his friend.
Newt skidded to a stop at the box, throwing the doors open and jumping down into the cage without hesitation. Checking that he still had Alby's knife in his belt, Newt hurried up to the man. He didn't look good; his eyes were half open and blank, staring at the sky, and his hands lay limp at his sides.
"Greenie, I think I understand. I'm going to cut you loose...greenie?"
The man didn't move, didn't blink. Newt couldn't see his chest moving.
Newt dropped to his knees in front of the man, gently reaching a hand behind his head. Still no response, and Newt truly feared that he was already other boys had caught up and stood in a circle around the hole, silent as sentinels. He pressed the fingers of his right hand to the flesh of the man's neck, right below the jaw, looking for a pulse.
Quicker than a half-dead man should have been able to move, the guy grabbed Newt by the neck and spun him around, holding him in a choke hold with his left arm. As Newt sputtered and gasped, as the boys above shouted and tried to placate him, the man ran his hand down Newt's right side, finding the handle of the knife. Unsheathing it quickly, the man lifted it towards his face.
"Stop!" Newt gasped, struggling against the surprisingly strong arm that held him captive.
The man paused for a moment, sending Newt a sideways glace. Then, without hesitating, he put the knife between his own lips and jerked the blade sideways. He dropped the knife beside him, out of Newt's reach, and lifted his hand to his bloody lips. Reaching into his mouth with two fingers, he wiggled his jaw until Newt heard a faint -pop-. He pulled two molded black plastic pieces out of his mouth, tossing them away one at a time. Then he pulled Newt a little closer, lips all but at the boy's ear. Newt heard a hoarse, hissy whisper.
"Stop struggling, I'm not going to hurt you. Listen closely. The choices you make now determine whether I live of die."
Author's note;
AngelFires ~ Thank you for your reviews; I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far! To answer your question, Newt is about 16 years old in this, maybe just shy of that. Also, you were wondering about the fact that he's a runner in my fic; my setting is kind of a blurred composite of the movies and the books. In the books, it is mentioned that Newt was a runner before an injury left him with a permanant limp. In the movies, they don't mention that at all, though he does still retain a slight limp. Hope that sorts it out!
~Ruby