Bound | Newt Love Story

20 | Don't

"Woah, woah, woah." I say, frustration building throughout my body. "Please, tell the story again. Slower."

Thomas sighs, folding his arms across his chest, his eyes shifting between me, Newt, Teresa, Jeff, Winston, and Alby lying unconscious on the cot. After I sent Thomas up to talk to Teresa, he came back down yelling about some syringe that Teresa gave him and started running for the Medjack hut. "Teresa was sent up with these," Thomas holds out two silver, metal syringes that are filled with a blue liquid inside. The letters W.C.K.D. are engraved in the end of it. "and I think they're meant for Alby."

Newt's body weight shifts. "We don't even know what this stuff is and why it came up with you." Newt points at Teresa. "I mean, for all we know, this thing could kill him."

"Newt's right, Thomas." I sigh, stepping up next to Newt. "We don't know if these were even meant for Alby."

"Newt!" Thomas slightly yells. "He's already dying. Whatever this is...it can't hurt him."

"It's worth a try." Teresa speaks up. Newt flinches at the sound of her voice, obviously slightly annoyed that she even decided to speak. 

Alby suddenly starts yelling out, violently shaking on the cot, causing the metal plates holding the cot together to creak. Alby's skin is drenched in sweat and dried blood. Newt, his eyes full of sorrow, peers down at Alby, obviously trying to decide what the best move is. 

"Alright." Newt mumbles. "Do it."

Thomas looks at him a second, shock filling his emotions as he can't believe Newt even agreed. Thomas grabs one of the syringes and runs over to Alby, leaning over him. Thomas looks back at Newt, reassuringly. I stand next to Newt, my hand finding his nervously as the syringe hovers over Alby's heart. Newt looks down at me, his eyes different. They're full of concern and worry. Dark circles underline his beautiful eyes and his hair is messily thrown around. I'm worried about him. He's so stressed out with trying to get us out of here, it's taking over his entire being. 

My thoughts are cut short by Alby screaming out as he grabs Thomas by the collar of his shirt, "You shouldn't be here!" Alby yells out in Thomas' face. 

Newt and I react immediately running to Thomas' aid. Newt grabs one of Alby's hands trying to pry it from around Thomas' neck. I pull at Alby's other arm. 

"The syringe!" Thomas yells out. I look around the small hut and see the syringe lying underneath a small desk made out of bark. It had obviously been thrown out of Thomas' hands and rolled under the desk. I crouch down, reaching my hand into the small space. My fingers grasp the cool metal and I pull the syringe out. My actions after that are very fast. I push the bottom at the top of the syringe, extending a sharp needle. I run forward, continuing to yell out for Teresa and Jeff to move, before slamming the syringe into Alby's heart. The syringe enters his body with a squishing noise and a light fizzing as the blue liquid is pulled into him. Alby's eyes roll to the back of his head and his head drops down onto the cot, releasing Thomas from his grasp. 

"Well," Jeff mumbles. "That worked."

"For now on, someone stays here and watches him...around the clock!" Newt says aggressively. 

My hands start shaking as I watch the syringe empty itself into our leader. "Did I just kill Alby?" My words come out shakily as my eyes start to tear up. Newt's aggressive stature completely changes as he watches my hurting figure.

Jeff lurches forward and presses two fingers to Alby's neck, checking for a pulse. "No, no. He's breathing." 

A huge sigh falls from my lips as I feel two strong arms wrap around my body. I immediately recognize them and let myself sink into them, leaning my head back to rest on his chest. 

***

The familiar click of my Runner's backpack fills my ears as I secure it across my chest. My feet stomp through the green grass of the Glade as I make my way over to the only two Runners left who haven't quiet: Thomas and Minho. They stand, their backs towards me, facing the Maze, waiting for the doors to open. As I'm about halfway there, the familiar whirring and cranking of the doors begins. The steel connectors separate from each other, slowly pulling apart. 

My feet stop right behind Minho and Thomas, just as the doors are almost open. 

"Ready, B?" Minho asks, feeling my presence behind him. 

I chuckle a bit, sighing loudly. "As I'll ever be."

Minho turns his head, looking between Thomas and I before yelling, "Let's go!" and taking off into the Maze. I take off right after him, my arms pumping and feet hitting the ground hard. 

I turn and see Thomas, standing at the entrance, staring at our running figures. "What're you waiting for, Thomas? Come on!" I yell, continuing to follow Minho. My words seemed to have pulled Thomas out of some sort of trance, because right when I finished talking, Thomas takes off after us.

The amazing thrill that running sends through my body is something unexplainable. It clears my head, to say the least. All the being stuck in the Glade, all the Alby being sick and me potentially almost killing him yesterday...all of that...gone. Like it's somewhere deep in the past. Somewhere other than here. Running sends a huge adrenaline rush throughout me. I never feel the pain of running while I'm doing it, it's always once I stop that I do. But I never saw the pain as soreness from running, I always saw it as my muscles begging me to keep going, to keep running. 

"We're almost at the inner ring." Minho yells behind him as his pace slows down a bit. He takes a sharp right and what is before me leaves me astonished. The usual tight walls and never-ending turns of the Maze have faded out in this back section. The walls are further apart and the turns are less frequent, giving this part of the Maze a bigger feel, a more comfortable feel. As Minho continues running, his head never turns to look at his surroundings. Unlike mine, which is turning every second, taking in the new scenery. We pass a large, red 5 painted on the side of the Maze wall. As we continue running, the number 6 continues to get larger as we run to that section. We run straight for number six, passing under it, until the number 7 is large and right in our faces. 

"That's strange." Minho mumbles, slowing his jogging pace to a walking. 

I furrow my eyebrows, "What?" I ask.

"Section 7 isn't supposed to be open for another week." He answers, walking into the section. Thomas and I follow him silently.