The Rogue Variable

Chapter thirty-five

We seemed to simultaneously gaze towards the maze. Newts left hand was waving about his face, as he bit his fingernails. "Well, maybe they're just having some fun," chuck suggested. Though the kid was trying to cheer him up, he went about it all wrong. The maze was not somewhere you had fun. Newts glare had said enough, and if his eyes could shoot knives, well we should be saying goodbye to chuck. (Sorry not sorry)

I wanted to comfort Newt, but my throat was strained as no words arose. "Then why don't we send someone after them?" Thomas suggested. Newt seemed to shrivel. His hand grasped mine, where I was sitting to his right. Eyes wide, his cheeks seemed to sink in, and pure terror displayed his face as his fingers dug into my hand. I ignored the pain, and was focused on him. He only breathed out a, "no,"

Soon we were back to the schedule. Walk around, check the doors, visit the girl, walk around, check the doors. Soon enough, dinner rolled in, and frypan cooked a grand meal, and with gesturing on my part, I was able to convince him and Newt, to allow me to help. After I was finishing the last few gladers, specifically the runners who had just returned, I hazily watched Newt run from door to door.

I began to walk towards him, while he was waiting alone by the doors, when Thomas rose, walking along side me. Chuck followed, seemingly always lost without Thomas. Newt wrung his hands through his hair, waiting by the west door. "Where are they?" Newt asked, his voice intertwining with worry.

"Why don't we send out a search party?" Thomas suggested again.

"Bloody he-" Newt started before stopping himself; he closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. "We can't. Okay? Don't say it again. One hundred percent against the rules. Especially with the buggin' Doors about to close."

"But why?" Thomas persisted, "Won't the Grievers get them if they stay out there? Shouldn't we do something?"
Newt turned on him, his face flushed red, his eyes flamed with fury.

"Shut your hole, Greenie!" he yelled. "Not a bloody week you've been here! You think I wouldn't risk my life in a second to save those lugs?"

Surprised and frightful from his outburst, I stumbled back. Newt reached towards me keeping my balance.

"No ... I ... Sorry. I didn't mean ..." Thomas sputtered.

Newt's face softened. "You don't get it yet, Tommy. Going out there at night is beggin' for death. We'd just be throwin' more lives away. If those shanks don't make it back ..." He paused, seeming hesitant to say what everyone was thinking. "Both of 'em swore an oath, just like I did. Like we all did. You, too, when you go to your first Gathering and get chosen by a Keeper. Never go out at night. No matter what. Never,"

"Newt won't say it," the chuck said, head hanging low, "so I will. If they're not back, it means they're dead. Minho's too smart to get lost. Impossible. They're dead."

So he rose, and trudged to the homestead, saying no more. "The shank's right," Newt said solemnly. "That's why we can't go out. We can't afford to make things bloody worse than they already are."

I squeezed newts hand, which had found itself once again intertwined with mine. "The doors close in 2 minutes," he said, and a wave of anguish passed over us. It was as official as a death sentence, and not going out there to find them felt like we were banishing them. Newt rose, unconsciously dragging me to the homestead. I gently pulled my hand away, slightly lagging behind. We'd made it pretty far, and I was 15 feet behind Newt as we neared the homestead.

"They got him!" I heard, but it was just a whisper in the wind. "Newt! Joanie!"

I heard that. This time, it was Thomas. I turned back, and sprinted towards the doors, leaving Newt behind. "They're coming! I can see 'em!" He yelled. I made it to the doors, and could see their figures hobbling about. Something was wrong, and if they didn't hurry, they would be dead. Thomas was a few feet ahead of me, and Newt, a few behind.