AN: Okay, I have made an executive decision. After only two chapters, I am completely abandoning canon. I'm making an AU :P Also, I'm not very good at characters, so they may be different to what they are in the book. I apologise. Also, I'm now read up on where Newt's story ends. I have cried :P
Crick woke up first the next day. His body hurt from the floor he'd slept on, and he had dust all over his shirt. Newt was still asleep, and Crick sighed when looking at him. He smiled softly. He nudged him with his foot, waking him up. "Get up, shuckface." Crick whispered softly. Newt groaned and looked at him. "They'll let us out soon."
"Bloody hell." Newt grumbled, moving his hair out of his face. "I feel like a bucket of klunk."
Crick chuckled softly. "You look it." He teased, before staring out of the window and pausing. "Something's wrong." He said and Newt turned and looked too. It was light, but there was no noise. no bustle of Gladers beginning to wake up. Newt left Crick's side. Crick kept observing, kept listening, but couldn't hear a thing, beyond the slight breeze in his ears. There was nothing to notice, though, no change in the scenery, not with the hedge obstructing the view.
"Hey." Newt called, sounding quiet. Crick turned. Newt was holding the door wide open. "Something's definitely wrong." Crick gulped softly and moved out of the room. He turned to look at the wall next to the door. A faint splash of blood ignited a spark of panic inside of them both.
"Looks like we missed a hell of a party." Crick attempted to crack a smile but failed, desperately trying to ward off panic. Newt was silent beside him and, as Crick looked, completely pale.
They could finally see the Homestead. It did nothing to quell their fears. There was no-one about, and it was completely silent. "Hello?" Crick shouted, looking about. No-one answered. "Anyone?" He shouted again, frowning. Crick felt his fists clench at his sides. There was something in the air. A sharp tang that Crick could taste. "What the shuck did we sleep through?" He whispered, as they walked closer and closer towards the Homestead. Newt suddenly turned.
"Wait." Newt said suddenly. His head was facing one of the tents. "They're still there." Newt broke into a run, approaching the tent. Crick followed, frowning. There was a boy lain there, as if dead. For a moment, Crick feared he might be. "He's breathing." Newt breathed out, sighing in relief. Crick felt a glimmer of hope, but it quickly subsided as he took in all of the other empty tents.
"Yeah, but where's everyone else?" Crick asked, looking back at the Homestead.
"They're gone... Almost all of us. Taken, dead or unconscious." A voice, low and shaky said behind them. Crick wheeled around, looking alerted at Alby. "Finally woken up, have you?" He sounded angry, very angry. "I thought you were both dead or gone... You would have been sitting ducks in there."
"What happened?" Crick asked, seeing Alby's shirt ripped and splashed with blood, and his trousers torn. Now that he looked, Crick could see scratches all over his face.
"We don't know." Alby sighed softly, looking down. "We don't know what they were... Claws and teeth and electricity." He looked at Crick. "They were quiet. Knocked Gally and Frypan unconscious before any of us knew what was happening. After that, it's a blur... Blood, screams and... Zaps." Alby sighed. "But you two slintheads are still alive, so I guess that's something to be thankful for." Alby turned to look at the unconscious boy. "He's lucky..."
"These... Zaps. What did they look like?" Crick asked, slightly fearing the answer.
"Small. Like the beetle blades but... Well, actually, they looked exactly like beetle blades but they hummed and crackled... I suppose it was electricity." Alby sighed, turning his head. "Come on... Have a look for yourself."
They arrived in the Homestead, the usually dilapidated building looking even more so. It was haunting. "They cut the power or... Overloaded it or whatever." He commented, as Newt looked at the lights, all of them blown. "That's what woke us up. The lights blew." Alby looked haunted. Crick looked into a room, and saw a patch of blood and what seemed like a pile of beaten meat.
"What the..." Crick whispered, staring at the figure.
"Don't..." Alby put a hand on his arm. "It's... Just don't." He warned, not looking at the pile.
"Why?" Newt asked, staring at it too. "What is it?"
"You don't wanna know." Alby said. It sounded like a promise. Crick looked at him and shook his head and began to walk over to the pile. "Wait, Crick." Alby said, voice hollow. Crick kept walking and finally saw it from the other side. He backed away in disgust. "Bloody hell." He whispered, as he saw the face of one of the younger Gladers. "What happened to him?" Crick asked, looking back to Alby."
"Not the Zaps. They're too small to do that, surely?" Newt asked.
"Yeah. It doesn't fit the Grievers, either." Alby shrugged. "Can we leave please? I don't want to be around this mess." Crick nodded and they left.
What was left of the Gladers, a little over ten people, were huddled in the uppermost room. Everyone but Newt and Crick had blood on them, and looked haggard. Beside Crick, Newt looked incredibly pale. Crick frowned, hand twitching at his side. Crick walked over to him and put a hand on his back, concealed by their bodies. Newt quickly smiled a sad smile at him, before turning back to Alby. "So what do we do?" He asked.
"What do you mean? We continue." Gally piped up, from beside Alby. He looked enraged. "There's nothing we can do. We're all dead, comatose or... Gone. And those that are gone might as well be dead." He stood and walked at them both. "Where were you?" He asked, as they both backed away slightly. "How did you sleep through... This?" Gally beckoned around. "Our friends are dead or worse. You had a responsibility." He snarled. His glare was set on Newt. "We can't recover from this. We're as good as dead."