Bound | Newt Love Story

24 | Eradication

"Which ones do we take?" I yell, my voice shaking slightly as I examine the multitudes of weapons before Minho, Newt, Frypan and I. The weapons are hung on the side of the Map Room in the Deadheads. Any type of weapon you can think of is up here: bow and arrows, spears, knives, torches...pretty much anything. 

Newt stands behind Minho, Frypan and I, checking our surroundings constantly. 

"As many as you can hold." Minho answers, going first and grabbing a couple of knives. 

"We need to hurry.." Newt warns from behind us. 

I nod, lurching forward and stuffing knives all over my body; two in both my boots, a few in my waist band and another in my back pocket. "Newt." I yell, grabbing a spear and throwing it over to him. He catches it with ease, relaxing more now that he has something to defend himself with. I grab a knife and walk over, crouching down behind Newt and stuffing the knife in his boot. I turn back around and see Frypan only holding two knives in his hands. I shake my head, a small smile forming on my lips as I grab the knives from his hands, shoving them in his waste band and pulling a spear from the wall, handing it to him. "Now you're ready." I nod. 

"Ready?" Newt calls behind him, as I grab a spear of my own. 

"Ready." Minho yells back and we all take off, out of the Deadheads and into the clear grass of the Glade. 

Chaos. The only word I could possibly think of to describe the scene before us as we run out of the Deadheads. Groups of Gladers, and sometimes lonely Gladers, run in every direction, most of them being chased by Grievers. 

Newt takes a deep breath, "Let's go." He mumbles, running ahead of us and into the clearing. My heart begins racing as Minho and Frypan look at each other, wondering who would go next. I run forward, following Newt, to the shock of both Minho and Frypan. 

It's the chaos itself that, I think, brings out every human emotion possible. It's the chaos itself that brings out fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what's happening and whether you're going to survive this or not. It's the chaos itself that brings out sadness. Sadness that, after this, nothing will be the same. Sadness that the Glade will never go back to being the way it was before. It's the chaos itself that brings out trust. Trusting in others to help you find a way within the chaos. Having others trust in you to help them and guide them. It's the chaos itself that brings out pity. Pity for the dead. Pity for the suffering. And pity for the people that will have to suffer in the future of this chaos. It's the chaos itself that brings out togetherness. Even if you absolutely hate the person standing next to you, you're both fighting on the same side of this battle. You're both trying to survive this. You both will fight, together, to end and win this. And, finally, it is chaos itself that brings out love. Love for one another. Love that maybe you never even realized was there. Love that was already there but is now more noticed than ever. Love for the people surrounding you. 

Thomas' voice pulls me out of my train of thought as he, from the other side of the Glade, starts yelling, "Keep going! Run!" 

I watch the group of Gladers in front of Thomas, all running from a Griever, heading for the same place we are: the Council Room. 

And then, suddenly, someone in there group trips and falls down, causing the entire group to stop running. This gives the Griever more time to pursue them, getting increasingly closer to them. I look over at Newt, worry in my eyes, before all four of us take off after them. As we approach the Griever, who is now at a very threateningly close are to Thomas, I grip the body of the spear in my hand harder, pulling back and launching it into the Griever. Newt, Minho and Frypan follow me, stabbing the Griever with their own spears. 

"Come on, Thomas, let's go!" I yell, running back towards the Council Hall. Newt, running as fast as he can with his limp, is right behind me, his machete out in a protective motive. 

"Over here, come on!" Chuck yells from the doorway of the Council Hall. 

I shove past him, bursting into the Council Hall with Newt coming in after me. About ten other Gladers are already in the Council Hall, waiting for us. Frypan comes in next, carrying a lit torch and a few other weapons in his other hand. Minho and Jeff are next, carrying Alby. Teresa comes racing in, followed by Chuck, who is being pushed in by Thomas, who grabs the door as he comes running in, slamming it shut. 

"Barricade the door!" Thomas yells as two Gladers run forward with pieces of wood, stacking them against the door. Deep down inside I know that two tiny pieces of wood aren't going to hold back a huge Griever, but I don't say anything because the next second somethings banging against the roof of the Council Hall. Newt places his arm in front of my torso, pushing me behind him, as another bang comes from the opposite side of the Council Hall. And then it sounds as if one of the Grievers have jumped up on top of the roof, as the screeches from it increasingly get louder. 

"Stay back." Minho whispers at the crowd, causing a few to take a few steps backwards. 

The shadow of the Griever becomes very significant as it marches around the roof. 

"The roof's not going to hold." I mumble, grabbing Newt's hand in mine. 

Newt looks over at me, his machete pointed out in front of us. "I know."

We move in circles, everyone racing to the opposite end that the Griever is on as it marches. Dust flies down from the ceiling, causing most of the Gladers to shield their faces. And then, just like that, a spidery claw comes smashing through the Council Hall roof. Screams fill my ears as the Gladers jump back. The claw grabs a hold of a large pole, yanking it from its roots, causing the entire roof of the Council Hall to cave in. The roof swings back towards us, causing everyone to yell out and take cover. Newt pushes me to the ground, covering me with his body, just as one of the pieces of roof flies past our heads. Newt pushes his face into my neck, covering his eyes from the debris. I grab onto his neck, shutting my eyes tightly and burying my face in his hair, trying to calm myself.

"Is everyone alright?" Newt asks aloud, lifting his head from my neck as the debris stops flying. 

The sounds of shuffling can be heard and everybody pretty much gets on their feet, wiping their clothes off. Newt stands, grabbing my arm and helping me up. 

"Are you okay?" Newt asks, leaning in close to me, his eyes full of concern and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah." I mumble, pulling him into me. For some reason, right in the middle of this life-and-death situation, I really just wanted to feel his touch. I wanted to feel him next to him and run my hands through his hair.