Disclaimer:

I own The Maze Runner.........said me never.

-✼-

With the Berg's power back on, I could definitely feel the difference in temperature. The cool air blasting in every room cooled my sweaty skin significantly, though making it clammy in the process as well. Stray baby hairs still stuck around my forehead. I really must have been a sore sight.

The six of us sat in a group in the main room where all the comfortable chairs were. Thomas had refused to leave my side, hovering around me nonstop. But I couldn't look at Garret. Not knowing what I had done to his best friend.

The boy looked the same for the most part, and yet there was something different about him that I couldn't quite place. His straw-blond hair was sticking up in all directions, face pink from sunburn and eyes still a stormy gray. He seemed to have gained a bit of muscle since the Glade. It made me wonder what he had gone through to get it.

"Garret, why don't you explain how you're here?" Thomas suggested, the first to speak.

Garret nodded. He inhaled before recounting, "The Grievers...sometimes they didn't kill us. Every time you saw someone going into their flesh, we didn't die." I caught the word 'we' immediately. "Those nights where the Grievers took someone? They didn't kill any of them. Took 'em back to W.I.C.K.E.D to continue being tested. Gally was one of them. By the time I got there, he was already planning to break out. Once I found out his plan of faking insanity, he let me come with him.

"I had information, he had the strength. He didn't want me to come because two escaping subjects would be more suspicious than one, but Gally couldn't bear not knowing what I did. So once he promised to get me out, I told him how the Creators were planning on wiping our memories and starting a new Maze. Adjusting the Trials to better suit their needs, putting us back in that hellhole again like it was no big deal.

"So we ran. Found this organization called the Right Arm, an anti-W.I.C.K.E.D group who helped us get here. Now, thanks to us, they have more information."

"So, yeah, Gally's here," Thomas confirmed, knowing what I was going to ask before I even opened my mouth. "He's not that bad anymore- he just really hated us."

There were a few moments of silence. Minho, Jorge, and Brenda had been uncharacteristically silent the entire time. I guessed that Minho was still thinking about Newt. There was no longer a sign that he was going to cry, but his eyes seemed far away and his body was rigid.

"I want you five to listen to me," Minho finally began, taking a second to look at each of us before continuing. "Ever since we broke out of W.I.C.K.E.D, I've basically gone along with whatever you slintheads ended up saying we should do. And I haven't complained. Much." A grin at Thomas. "But right here, right now, I'm making a decision and you're going to do what I say. And if anyone pushes back, to hell with you.

"I know we have bigger goals in mind. We need to connect with the Right Arm, figure out what to do about W.I.C.K.E.D-- all that save-the-world klunk. But first, we're going to find Newt. This isn't up for discussion. The six of us - all of us - are flying to wherever we need to go, and we're getting Newt out of there. Dylan, did they happen to say where they were taking him?"

Before I had the chance to answer, Brenda cut in. "They call it the Crank Palace. It has to be what he was talking about."

"Sounds fancy," Minho commented. "You've been there?"

"No," Brenda answered patiently. "Every city has a Crank Palace- a place where they send the infected and make it bearable for them until they reach the Gone. I don't know what they do to them then, but it's not a pretty place to be, no matter who you are, so I can only imagine. Immunes run things there, and get paid a lot because a non-Immune would never risk catching the Flare. If you want to go, we should think long and hard about it first. We are completely out of ammunition, so we'll be unarmed."

There was still hope in Minho's eyes despite her warning. "Long and hard thinking done. You know where the closest one is?"

"Yeah," Jorge confirmed. "We passed over it on the way here. It's just on the far side of this valley, right up against the mountains to the west."

The Runner clapped. "Then that's where we're going. Jorge, get this piece of klunk up in the sky."

Despite all they knew about the dangers of Crank Palaces, neither Brenda nor Jorge argued. The latter even smiled ironically. "I'll be glad for a little adventure, muchacho. We'll be there in twenty minutes."

That was the end of our Gathering. As soon as it finished, I turned to Thomas and whispered, "I need to talk to you."

He turned to me and analyzed my face. I could see he was trying to detect my emotions to gauge what I wanted to say, but he couldn't seem to find any clues. Finally, he nodded. "Okay."

The two of us went into a storage room adjacent to the main one. It was filled with useless junk, mainly cardboard boxes and old furniture. It was dusty, too, and the follicles tickled my nose. I felt an impending sneeze.

"They didn't take you to the Palace," Thomas stated matter-of-factly. I was caught off-guard, not having expected him to speak. "They let you stay, so that only means one thing- you're Immune." When I sighed, he continued. "Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes and no," I answered. My head shook. "It's only part of it. Yes, they tested me and confirmed my Immunity. But, Thomas..." I trailed off, a lump lodged in my throat. I didn't know how to phrase the words he needed to hear. "Newt gave himself up more than willingly."

My brother looked stricken. "You don't want to rescue him."

I was already losing him. Thomas' instinct was to save people, always, but he never thought about the other person's wishes first.

"I'm saying maybe he doesn't want to be saved," I argued as gently as I could. He needed to hear the words, and because nobody else would tell him, I had to do it. After all, I was the only one who had seen him in his moments leading up to the break-in. However, Thomas only shook his head. I really was losing him. "You didn't see him. He was - he was...lost."

"All the more reason to find him," Thomas said. "Lost people need to be found."

"Thomas." My tone was firm now. It was the sibling voice, the 'you'd-better-listen-to-me-right-now' voice that I could use only with him. "Not everyone wants a rescue mission."

"Good luck telling Minho that."

And Thomas spun on his heel, leaving me alone in the room with a fear swallowing me whole.

If he wouldn't listen to me, he'd just have to see for himself what I meant. And he wasn't going to like it.

-/-

Jorge's timing was right. Almost twenty minutes on the dot passed before he landed the Berg in a clearing just at the edge of a forest. It reminded me of the Deadheads, in a way, because half of the trees were burned to leafless trunks.

The six of us walked down the ramp to the ground. It felt strange to be outside after spending long holed up indoors. The air was clean, though still and slightly muggy. I had almost forgotten what it was like to walk on grass. The last time I had stepped on it, I noticed with striking realization, had been in the Glade.

It was dry and slightly yellowed from lack of rain, but it was still grass. It gave me some sort of hope for the future, that maybe the earth would rebuild itself from the solar flares and start anew. After all, time moved on, and grass just kept growing.

I turned my attention toward the wooden wall that represented the outside of the Crank Palace. The gate was already open, two people with weapons hot walking toward us.

"Not a good start," Jorge commented, stating the obvious.

One of the guards shouted something inaudible. Thomas suggested, "Let's just go over there, talk to them. They must be Immune if they have those Launchers."

"Unless the Cranks took over," Minho joked. I thought it was hardly the time for them, but then again, it was part of his nature. "Either way, we're going in, and we're not leaving without Newt."

I stared glumly at my combat boots. Thomas looked at me, like, Don't ruin this for him, and it twisted my every nerve. I was just trying to protect them from the inevitable, but my brother didn't see it that way.

He had said something to me before we exited the Berg: "I thought you of all people would understand."

But he didn't know.

"Hey," Garret said, nudging me gently in the arm. Having him back all of a sudden was jarring, and I wasn't sure if I'd ever get rid of the guilt that crept up on me whenever I saw him. "You okay? You seem troubled."

"Just nervous," I replied, deciding to tell a half-truth. It wasn't totally a lie— I really was anxious about what would happen.

"Understandable." Garret nodded. "But it's okay; we'll get Newt back."

My lips pulled into a thin line. "Yeah."

As we approached the guards, their features became more apparent- specifically, their beat-up faces. The skin was bruised, scratches marring certain areas. There were even the white outlines of scars. I guessed living with Cranks wasn't an easy job.

One of them stepped forward once we reached the gate. "Who the hell are you people? You don't look like the science goons that come in sometimes."

Well, that was good to know.

"You wouldn't have known we were coming, muchacho," Jorge said, sounding calm and collected. "We're from W.I.C.K.E.D, and one of our guys got captured and taken here by mistake. We'll be picking him up."

But the guard didn't seem fazed. "You think I give a crap about you and your fancy W.I.C.K.E.D jobs? You're not the first uppity-up to drop in here and act like you own the place. You wanna come hang out with Cranks? Be my guest. Especially after what's been going on lately." He stepped aside and made a dramatic gesture with his arm. "Enjoy your stay at the Crank Palace. No refunds or exchanges if you lose an arm or eyeball."

I wasn't surprised when Thomas asked a question. "What do you mean 'what's been going on lately'? What's happening?"

He shrugged, mustache pulling downward as he frowned. "It's just not a very happy place, and that's all you need to know."

"Look, we just want our guy back," I edged in, starting to fear that Minho would say something that would get us all into trouble. I just wanted to get this over with. "He would've arrived in the past day or so. If you help us find him, we'll be out of your hair faster. Isn't that what you want?"

The other guard smirked, then cleared his throat. "I suppose it's a he, then."

"Yes," Thomas informed. "His name is Newt. Little taller than me, blond hair. Has a limp."

The guy spit into the grass. "I might know somethin'. But knowin' and tellin' are two different things. You kids look like you got plenty of money. Wanna share?"

Jorge's face tightened in anger. But before he could say anything, Minho spoke. "We've got money, shuck-face. Now tell us where our friend is."

The man raised the Launcher threateningly. "Show me your cash cards or this conversation is over. I want at least a thousand."

I refrained from widening my eyes. A thousand for finding someone? I wasn't old enough to fully grasp the concept of money before I was taken to W.I.C.K.E.D, but it seemed like a lot.

"He's got it all." Minho jabbed a thumb at Jorge. "Greedy slinthead."

It occurred to me that the two guards probably didn't know what the hell our slang meant.

Jorge waved his card. "You'll have to shoot me dead to take this, and you know it won't do any good without my prints. You'll get your money, hermano. Now show us the way."

"All right, then," the first guard said, satisfied. "Follow me. And remember, if any of your body parts become detached due to an unfortunate encounter with a Crank, I highly advise you to leave said body part behind and run like hell. Unless it's a leg, of course."

Part of me hoped he was just trying to scare us off, but as we walked inside, I had a horrible feeling he was being serious.

He talked almost nonstop. I couldn't force myself to listen, however, and instead found myself lost in my own thoughts. I remembered Newt's words to me very clearly.

"There's hope for us."

"Not anymore."

Not to mention he had said, "Maybe I'm done being friendly!" What if that last look of sobriety before he was taken had been his last?

Those moments alone in the Berg with him had proven my worst fear— that the Flare really was already eating at his humanity. We fought in practically every conversation, and he had lost his filter. He said things to me that I could never have imagined him saying.

But most of all, I remembered him longing to be like me, Thomas, the rest of us— Immune, free of the disease plaguing him. How the rest were expendable except Thomas and I. How W.I.C.K.E.D actually seemed to care whether we lived or died.

The gloomy place wasn't helping my mood. My nerves were buzzing, always on high alert. A high-pitched cackle came from an alleyway, followed by a scream. Shivers inched down my spine. Newt was here, in this awful place. Maybe there was a shred of him that'd want to be out.

I zoned back in just in time to hear a scowling Brenda say, "Why don't you just tell it like it is— you let the infected run around this godforsaken place until they're so bad that your conscience is clean enough to get rid of them."

"That about wraps 'er up," the guard agreed.

My body gave another shudder.

We continued walking past a row of dilapidated houses that looked like they had seen better days maybe twenty years ago. The doors didn't seem to shut, windows were broken, and they didn't even seem safe to live in. But it was practically empty so far.

"Where is everyone?" Garret asked, swiveling his head around like he half expected someone to pop out of nowhere and try to kill him. "This place is like a ghost town."

This time, the other guard with the mustache answered. "Some – the lucky ones – are vegging on the Bliss in their homes. But most of them are in the Central Zone, eating or playing or up to no good. They're sending us too many— and faster than we can ship them out. Add to the fact that we're losing Immunes left and right to who-knows-where, decreasing our ratio each and every day, and things were bound to reach a boiling point eventually. Let's just say this morning the water finally got hot enough."

"Losing Immunes left and right?" Thomas repeated. He had his thinking face on.

Garret muttered under his breath, "W.I.C.K.E.D."

By trying to save the world, they were destroying the people left in it.

"Yeah, so half of our workers have disappeared over the last couple months," the guard explained. "No sign of 'em, no explanations. Which only makes my job a thousand times harder."

Thomas groaned. "Just keep us away from the crowds and put us somewhere safe until you find Newt."

"That's more like it," Minho said.

"Okay." The guard shrugged indifferently. "As long as I get my money."

Since the Crank Palace was made up of several so-called rings, it was fairly easy to navigate if you knew your way around. We stopped two away from the Central Zone. The guards told us to wait there.

The six of us huddled together behind one of the houses. As we got closer to the heart of the Palace, there seemed to be more people around.

Key word: seemed. Though we couldn't see them, we knew they were there. It was mainly because we could hear laughter and yelling and the distant sound of a fight.

Ten minutes passed. Then, suddenly, Thomas went rigid beside me. I followed his line of sight to see him watching two figures that had come out of a hut across the path. My hand clenched at my side before they came closer and I realized they seemed normal. Not rabid-Crank-like at all.

They were a man and woman holding hands as they approached us. They wore clothes that were rumpled, but there were no signs they were dangerous.

The woman spoke first. "When did you get here?"

"We came in with the last group," Brenda lied smoothly before any of us could speak. "We're actually looking for our friend who was with us. His name is Newt— blond hair, has a limp. Have you seen him?"

"Lots of people with blond hair around here— how're we supposed to tell who's who?" The man replied, rolling his eyes. "What kind of name is Newt anyway?"

Minho opened his mouth, but before he could make a sound, the noise from the Central Zone intensified, causing all of us to look up and Garret to jump. The couple dashed into their home without another word or a backward glance. The door locked, a board appeared in the window, and I felt very sorry for them.

"They look about as happy to be here as we are," Thomas noted.

Jorge gave a grunt. "Real friendly. I think I'll come back to visit."

"It must suck," Garret commented. "That's their house now. They're stuck here until the Flare drives 'em crazy."

"Where are those guards?" Minho demanded impatiently, ignoring Garret's sympathetic words. "How long does it take to find someone and tell 'em their friends are here?"

"There are hundreds of people here," I reminded him. The dread swelling in my chest was only growing. "It might take a while."

It took ten more minutes, to be exact. The two guards turned a corner and caused us all to jump up.

"What'd you find out?" Minho asked hurriedly.

I noticed that they were alone, which means Newt hadn't come with them— if they'd even found him. I wondered if the others noticed it as well.

The shorter guard appeared restless. His straightforwardness had vanished, leaving him antsy and unusually quiet.

The mustache guy was the one to speak up. "Took some asking around, but I think we found your guy. Looks just like you described, and he turned toward us when we called his name. But..." The two guards shared a look. I felt like my heart was going to burst.

I was right. I was right.

"But what?" Minho pressed.

I was right.

"He said — very politely, might I add — to tell you guys to get lost."

Newt didn't want to be saved.

gif is dylan talking to thomas

------

*finger guns into a deep sadness*

i realize it's been almost a year since i first published the playlist, which is honestly more than a little sad. a little under a year and only nine chapters! but luckily, since i'm back with the book, it's easier to write and i'll be able to pump out chapters. yay!!

questions:

-do you side with thomas or dylan?

-do you think garret and gally are friends now or just needed each other to survive?

-what do you think thomas will do now that he realized dylan was right?

-do you think garret already knows about theo, or just that he's gone? would thomas or minho have told him?

i tried to get some more thought-invoking questions up because they're usually v dumb

-kristyn