Quiet is Violent {Newt | The Maze Runner}

25. In or Out

Staring wide-eyed at the screen, Tasha couldn't even make a single noise, her gaze fixed, unblinkingly on the now static-filled projection. Thomas was the first to spot the body slumped behind a desk in the corner, bathed in the same eerie blue light as the rest of them When Tasha caught sight of it, she felt her breath catch in her throat; it was Ava Paige. The other Gladers all crept closer, their faces all identical masks of shock and horror. The doors to their left opened with a loud hissing, like an airlock opening, leading to a darkened corridor lit by a few scattered lights The Gladers watched in fascination, as if willing something to happen.

"Is it over?" The nervousness in Chuck's voice was almost tangible as he turned slowly to face Thomas, uncertainty in his eyes.

"She said we were important." Newt murmured, quietly, "Well, what are we supposed to do now?" He fixed his gaze on Thomas, whose breathing was coming in shallow puffs, Newt's question hanging in the air around them.

"I don't know." Thomas managed, jolting towards the exits as if he hadn't gained full control of his limbs yet. "Let's get out of here." He breathed. The others followed, exhaustion weighing them all down as they headed to the door, before a loud, familiar shout made stopped them in their tracks.

"No!" The Gladers turned abruptly, Thomas pushing his way past Newt and Tasha to confront the intruder.

"Gally?" He asked, his voice incredulous. Tasha slipped through the crowd to join Teresa, the two girls standing either side of Thomas, a deep frown on Tasha's face as she surveyed the Builder before them. Thomas made a move to step closer, but Teresa held him back.

"Don't." She said, simply, her gaze unwavering from where it was fixed on Gally. "He's been stung." She elaborated, eyes gazing at the wound on his neck, which was clear as day. Tasha clenched her jaw, her own gaze drawn to the two objects in his hands – one was a Griever cylinder, shiny and chrome, the other was simply a gun, Tasha's gun, complete with swirling patterns carved into the hilt.

"We can't leave." Gally blurted out, his voice harsh as he shook his head, dropping the cylinder. It clattered to the ground and his grip on the gun tightened, making Tasha nervous, driving her to edge forward.

"We did; Gally we're out." Thomas's wary gaze was fixed on the gun too and he seemed as nervous as Tasha. "We're free." He added for good measure, hoping his words were getting through to the Builder.

"Free?" Gally seemed to be close to tears, barely hearing them over the voices in his head and his hands shook as he gestured to the doors. Tasha edged forward, placing herself between Newt and the gun, should Gally try anything. "You think we're free out there?" He shook his head, his voice thick with tears. "No. There's no escape from this place." Slow and deliberate, the hand in which he held the gun rose, and Tasha froze as she stared down it's barrel.

"Gally listen to me," Thomas muttered, his hands raised defensively. Tasha blinked hard, forcing her body to cooperated and stay where she was instead of running away, "you're not thinking straight... You're not." He paused, trying to reason with Gally when he couldn't even find the words. "We can help you!" He promised, pleading with the gun weilder. "Just put down the gun."

"I belong to the Maze." Gally said, his voice defeated, almost broken. Tasha knew what was happening, knew the feeling of being dead inside like she knew the back of her hand. She could spot it a mile off. She could spot it now. This wouldn't end well.

"Just put down the gun!" Thomas tried again, but it was futile, and she thinks that maybe Thomas knows that.

Gally shook his head as Thomas tried in vain. "We all do." Call it intuition, call it stupidity, all Tasha knew was that she had to get people behind her, and she did, shoving Teresa and Newt out of the way while someone else took care of Thomas.

Two loud gunshots rang through the air and it was almost as if it happened in slow motion, the bright flashes of light and the ringing in her ears was nothing compared to the shock. Minho's spear soared through the air, lodging itself in Gally's chest as Chuck pushed Thomas out of the way. The Builder gasped for air, wheezing like a fish out of water, with the spear lodged firmly in his chest. He collapsed amid broken glass, gasping out his dying breath as the light left his eyes.

Everything was oddly silent in the seconds that followed, apart from Tasha's pained gasp as a searing, burning pain spread quickly through her abdomen. She pressed her hands to it, stumbling backwards, pressing her lips together to keep from making a noise. Her hands shook as she took them away from her tank top to reveal slick, red blood coating her palm. Her clean hand she pressed to her mouth, partly from shock, partly to muffle her sob. The heat from her bullet wound spread from her stomach through to the rest of her body, at first a warm buzz but shifting quickly to a burning ache as blood began to dampen her tank top.

"Thomas..." It was Chuck's voice that caught everyone's attention, before the moment of stillness was broken and he collapsed on the ground before them. Tasha ground her teeth together to keep silent, one hand still firmly pressed to her wound as she moved to see what the fuss was. Chuck, sweet little Chuck, had a bullet wound in his chest. Thomas knelt beside the young boy, hands pressed to the wound, the word 'shit' toppling off his tongue over and over again. Tasha almost laughed, after so many years of the Gladers' curse words, actual swearing was funny, in a morbid way.

"Hey, look at me, look at me." He told Chuck, gaining a hold of himself as the kid struggled for breath, eyes already beginning to glaze over. The desperation in Thomas's voice grew with every passing moment as he tried in vain to stop the bleeding. "Please, look at me, Chuck, I need you to look at me, you'll be OK." He was on the brink of hysteria but Chuck grabbed his arm, firmly.

"Thomas..." His breathing was nothing more than wheezing gasps at this point, but despite his shaking hands he held a small wooden carving out to the Greenie, offering it.

"No, no Chuck," Thomas had begun to cry, Tasha could hear it in his voice, "you're going to give it to them yourself, remember? I told you that." He managed, refusing the offer, trying to spur the kid along, to give him hope where there surely was none. A kid like Chuck, it must have been a token for his parents, and now... now here he was, here they all were.

"Take it, Thomas." His voice barely a whisper, pressing the item into Thomas's hands, closing his fist around it, not letting Thomas let it go. "And thank you." Even with his shaky breathing, he kept repeating his thanks to Thomas, tears sparkling in his glazed over eyes. His chest's frantic up and down rhythm grew still and Thomas's eyes went wide. He began calling Chuck's name, his voice hoarse as he tried to wake him up, but it was futile... Chuck was dead.