Author's Note: Another update! Your reviews are very appreciated :) Last six chapters were mostly from the movie, buut from this chapter, the events will be going wild. New plots, new characters, new settings. New relationships.

Chapter 7: A Split Second

"Thomas! Newt!"

Footfalls rang in the subway as three figures appeared from the corner, all on their fastest speed. Minho, Frypan, Gally. All panting hysterically and so worried, especially Minho, who dashed across the station like an insane bull and knelt beside them instantly. Newt had lifted his head from Thomas at the noise, turning his head a little to see his friends.

"Newt...is he?" Minho eyed Thomas, raising his brows for confirmation. He crept forwards, cautious not to provoke Newt. Thomas smiled, but Newt didn't, his expression so confused and disbelieving. Minho grinned widely and embraced his blonde mate, murmuring thank you a million times. Newt raised his good arm and hugged him back, still not putting up his old, typical smile.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." Newt whispered, continuously blinking his eyes as if he thought it was a dream. His knuckles were turning white from grasping Minho's shirt so tight, and Thomas put his hand on it, caressing his friend's dry skin with his thumb. Newt reacted to his touch and relaxed, releasing the tension and straightening his torso.

Minho gently pulled away, his eyes watery and puffy. "Shank, you scared the hell out of me." He smirked, holding on to Newt's shoulder once again as if he would disappear anytime. Newt smiled this time, a weak, broken smile. There were scratches all over his face, his hand, even his neck - Thomas instantly felt extremely guilty that he even wanted to punch himself.

Brenda smiled, seeming to be proud of herself and her friends. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Much." Newt replied, adding 'much' when he got an unconvinced look from her.

Newt's shoulder heaved with each breath - he was running out of energy. He wasn't showing any state of pain but Thomas was certain Newt had major problems with his body. Hell, he had just come back from being a crank, what could possibly be worse?

"You look so cra- tired." Frypan stated, pausing before he used the slang 'cranky' and quickly replacing it with 'tired'. Thomas eyed Newt, who was now letting out small dry coughs, his body slightly shaking. Gally took off his military jacket and placed it on Newt's shoulder, who muttered a small thank-you before tucking it in between his arms.

"Well, we should get moving. Those crazy cranks are literally burning the whole city down." Gally uttered, not noticing Newt press his lips together at 'crazy cranks'. Thomas shot a warning glare at Gally, who just shrugged lightly, still unaware of Newt. Sighing, Thomas put his friend's arm around his shoulders.

"Right, we really need to get out of here." Thomas reluctantly agreed, double-checking to make sure he had a firm grip on Newt. "Newt, can you walk?"

Newt pffed, positioning his good leg beneath him and, to everyone's surprise, heaved himself up quite easily. "Like I said, I'm much better now. Just support me a little." His tone had returned to his old, leader-ly voice, just a bit weak and harsh. Thomas was glad. He had missed that voice, although it had been only a half an hour since he had turned.

Minho nodded and grabbed his arm, throwing it over his shoulder and smirked. "This reminds me of the time in the Glade, when you were so whiny and-"

"Shut up." Newt snapped, but there was no offence in his voice. Thomas could feel, although he had exchanged very few words with Newt, that he was so happy and relieved.

This was going to end well. Only a few blocks away from the berg, only a few hours from returning to the port. Everything was going to be okay now.

But he had mistaken.

They were half block away from the berg when the gust hit them hard. It was the cyclone of ash and fragments from the collapsing building. Those shuck cranks never stopped bombing all over the city, even if the WICKED had surrendered. Explosions and bullets and missiles were everywhere, and Thomas could almost feel ferocious heat engulfing him.

They all swayed on their feet, struggling to regain balance and move on. However, the wind was too strong all they had managed to do was just stand at one stop, motionless. Thomas felt his weight shift towards the ground as Newt dangerously swayed on his feet, his bad leg finally giving up.

Thomas's knees buckled and Minho was forcibly dragged towards him, and they were seconds away from hitting the cold hard ground.

Just then, a strong hand grasped by his arm and heaved him up. He tilted his head to see who his saviour was. As the hand let go of him he could see the eyebrows, those weirdest and shuckiest eyebrows ever. Gally pushed them ahead, shouting something that was swallowed by the noise of destruction and fire.

Thomas pushed himself forward - he couldn't risk losing any more seconds. The total apocalypse was imminent, there was no safety guaranteed even if they succeeded to find the berg. The WICKED might be searching for them, not caring if the fancy basement of theirs got broken into pieces. They wouldn't give up, they were the real savages, the ones who really had passed the Gone.

The seven of them all began to cut their way through the breeze, covering their eyes from the fatal mass of fragments. Just a few blocks, Thomas, He told himself. Just a few more steps.

That was when everything went white. Black. He couldn't see anything, just pure whiteness all around him. He swivelled his head - or tried to - but his neck felt so stiff and rigid. He felt Newt slip away from him - and he alertly extended his arms, oaring his hands like crazy.

Newt! Newt!

Thomas yelled with all of his might, but no response came. He couldn't even hear his own voice. His throat hurt - his heart ached with fear. What was happening? Where was everyone? Newt? Minho? Teresa?

Thomas blinked his eyes furiously until his eyelids went sore and dry. He was about to run forward when the hands grasped him, and for a split second he thought it was Minho or Gally - but they were too big. Too frigid.

His instinct told him to run away. Completely panicking, he bellowed and thrashed and kicked - only finding himself knocked off his feet and dragged across the ground. The whiteness was starting to become dull - then he fell into a deep abyss.

To Be Continued. Next chapter, there will be a huge turn of events! Thank you for reading, and review if you enjoyed :)