Six : Hope
Tommy POV
…
Alby and Newt were walking next to one of the huge glade walls. Newt leaned into Alby, who had an arm draped across Newt's back, helping him stand. Newt could only put his full weight on one leg. He lurched with each step, his face grimacing in pain. I quickly began retracing the past few hours of footage, desperate to find new camera angles to figure out what had happened to the boy.
Less than two hours later I had spliced together camera clips into a solid story, and what I saw broke my heart. On the large display screen, I replayed everything again.
Early in the morning of the previous day, Newt had been totally fine. He said goodbye to Minho and the other runners, it was his day off from running the maze. He had then wandered around the glade, checking that everything was running normally. After talking with Winston and Zart, he made his way over to the Dead Heads, the small grove of trees in the far corner of the glade. Plopping down on a bench, he sat for nearly half an hour, seemingly deep in thought. But then he got up again and walked into the cemetery.
Newt knelt in front of several graves, staring numbly ahead with glazed over eyes. He sat there for a long time. I knew what he must be feeling; debilitating guilt for all those who had died, maybe he could have saved them somehow, overall sadness and frustration, perhaps even his forgotten little sister…
Suddenly standing, Newt turned and marched out of the little forest. He walked quickly towards the closest door, the west door. He ignored any gladers calling or waving to him. Entering the maze corridors, Newt navigated with purpose. Finally he came to a large stretch and faced a wall thick with ivy. He reached out and leaned his hands into the foliage, looking up at the top of the massive wall. Then he started climbing. Using all his strength, he pulled himself upward. I sighed, knowing he'd never reach the top, as his implants and optical illusions guaranteed it.
I watched and waited, the camera feed being provided by a beetleblade scaling the wall next to Newt. The boy looked directly into the camera.
"I don't know who you people are, but I hope you're happy. I hope you get a real buggin' kick out of watching us suffer. And then you can die and go to hell. This is on you." He whispered, and let go of the vines and kicked away from the wall, plummeting out of view. The beetleblade quickly hurried down to ground level, but not before I heard a distant, hard thump.
Newt was lying on his side with a leg pulled up, arms wrapped around it. He rocked back and forth, groaning. Sobs soon replaced them. Deep, painful cries that made my heart hurt.
"I hate you! I hate you!" The boy cried into the empty maze.
…
I lurched awake, panting and with tears in my eyes. Had it been a dream or a memory? I sat on the far left of the makeshift beds we had shoved into the corner of the lounge. The room was still dark, silent except for my uneasy breaths. I looked to my left and saw him. Newt, laying on his side facing me, mouth slightly open as he slept peacefully. A blanket covered him, the same one I had been using. His side rose and fell with slow and even breaths. He was here, and he was safe. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. But then Newt shifted, a frown forming on his face as his eyes opened a small crack. Seeing me sitting up in bed, he immediately tried to push himself up too. I quickly set my hand on his shoulder, gently stopping him.
"It's okay, it's okay." I whispered and he stopped, still frowning.
"Tommy? What are you doing?" His voice was still sleepy, but he didn't lay back down.
"Bad dream." I muttered, the images still replaying in my mind. Newt paused for a moment, then slowly lowered himself back onto his pillow.
"About what?"
"Grievers." I lied, not wanting to talk about what I'd really seen. I was sure now that the dream had been a memory. From somewhere deep, something erased by WICKED, a heartbreaking moment in Newt's painful past. The reason he limped with every step.
"Ahh," Newt yawned. His eyes fluttered closed and he let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Tommy." A moment of silence passed before he spoke again. "You know, I can't remember the last time I slept in a real bed?"
"I'm guessing this one is pretty comfortable, based on how fast you crashed."
"Like you're one to talk." He smirked, then opened his eyes to look up at me. "It's alright, Tommy. We're safe in here. Lay back down, get some sleep, yeah? Minho and I are here." He reached out and squeezed my arm. His hand was warm, gentle, reassuring. I nodded, meeting his gaze. Newt smiled and let go, his eyes closing again.
I didn't want to tell him what I had remembered. I didn't have all the answers myself, let alone why I was watching the gladers before I ended up there. It would just cause pain, confusion, and questions. I slowly lay back down and pulled the warm blanket over myself. Newt lay quietly, looking more relaxed than I had seen him in a long, long time. I finally closed my eyes and let sleep come once again.
…
I woke again sometime later. I didn't open my eyes, allowing myself a moment to enjoy the comfortable position I was in. A squishy mattress under me, warm blankets on top, even a soft pillow. Someone shifted the bed slightly and I finally opened my eyes. Newt still lay next to me, but had rolled over at some point, his back facing me now. The blanket was pulled so far over his head only a part of his blonde hair showed. Minho had gotten up and he stood by the door, flicking on half the lights in the room. He went into the shared bedroom, probably to use the bathroom. I untangled my arms from the blankets and glanced down at my watch. It was nearly 7 pm, which meant we had slept for almost 12 hours. I was okay with that. We had desperately needed sleep. Now that I knew the other gladers were being held by WICKED nearly 100 miles away, I didn't feel like we were in a rush. WICKED was waiting on us, they'd keep the others safe until we got there.
Minho walked out of the bedroom and glanced over at us, met my eyes and smiled.
"That was probably the best sleep of my life." He said as he plopped down in one of the armchairs. I nodded and rolled over onto my back, stretching my arms over my head.
"No kidding." I slowly sat up and pushed the blanket off. The cold air then reminded me what awaited us outside these walls. "We need to find warmer clothes. New backpacks would be nice too."
"There's a few in one of the closets." Minho jabbed a thumb over his shoulder towards the bedroom. "We'll take these blankets with us too."
"It said it was 22 out…" I groaned and rubbed my eyes. "What we need is a tent, something for shelter. We can't lay out in the snow."
"I'm sure this place has something. We could steal a car, you know?"
"That would work." I finally crawled out of the bed and slowly stood. "They have cars here?"
"What research facility doesn't have some form of transportation?"
"True." I walked over to my backpack sitting in the other armchair.
"He's still out cold." Minho smirked, pointing over at Newt's form buried under the blankets. I pulled out the bag of cranberries and ripped it open.
"I'm awake," Newt's muffled and groggy voice. "It's just warm…"
"Get up, slinthead. We have to steal a car." That got Newt's attention. He pushed himself up, the blankets falling away. One eye squeezed shut, he looked over at us, first eyeing Minho, then the cranberries, and finally me. His hair was a tousled mess.
"Steal a car?"
"You want to walk all the way to Fairbanks?" I laughed and walked over to him, his eyes following me. "Eat, then we'll start searching the place."
Nearly every hallway was lit with emergency lights now. With the electricity on its last legs, I knew we'd probably only get one more night here. Newt and I followed Minho as he navigated us through the maze of corridors. He was a natural at finding where we ought to go, which turns to take. From the looks of it, the grievers were probably part of the failed electrical grid. Everything was silent, except for our breathing and footsteps.
We stood in what I assumed was the "garage" of the facility. A large Hummer-like looking vehicle sat in the corner. Minho was already striding towards it excitedly.
"For not 'interfering' and everything, it sure seems like they made this easy for us." He smiled as he reached the large car.
"They want the bloody experiment to start, of course it'll be easy getting started." Newt glanced over at me. "Did you forget about the griever we crushed into a pancake?"
"Half a pancake." Minho corrected. He had opened the driver's side door and was sitting in front of the wheel. He reached up and adjusted mirrors, pulled down the sun visor, and then jumped as a pair of keys dropped into his lap. He held them up for us to see.
"Easy," I breathed and walked around to the passenger side. The Hummer was dark green, had four doors, and a small truck bed in the back. Serious all terrain tires gleamed in the dim light. Newt opened the tailgate and climbed into the bed.
"You said you wanted a buggin' tent?" He said, looking down at me with a genuine smile. He lifted up a 6 person tent, collapsed and perfectly packaged. My mouth dropped open.
"Awesome. Now if one of you two shucks find some marshmallows and some chocolate, we'll have ourselves a nice little camping trip." Minho said from behind me.
"The tank's full?" Newt hopped down from the bed, favoring his bad leg.
"Tank's full."
"Okay, we need to start packing. Blankets, pillows, food, clothes. If we can fit a couple of those mattresses in the bed, do it. We just need to find a few weapons now." I clapped my hands together. "No more wasting time, we need to do this now before something happens."