Through Memories

Monkeys on the Wall

This is a...long one. longer than chapter seven, even. also, since its never particulary clear which leg of newts has the limp, we've decided its his left one! Hope you enjoy!:) -kat

Minho and Newt had just gotten to the last turn of the Maze to the Doors. They hid behind the corner, peering slightly to see all the Gladers standing there. He realized this must look very suspicious to WICKED, but this had to be done right, no matter what they saw. Hopefully, it wasn't too telling. They had enough problems already.

Minho turned back to Newt, who was standing a little hunched over, slightly out of breath as he waited in anticipation of what Minho would say.

"We're back a little early, but I've got a plan," he whispered under his breath, looking between the Doors and his friend.

"Alright then, out with it," Newt waved his hands for Minho to continue, before putting them on his knees again, trying to catch his breath.

"Just wait..." Minho stood there, finger in the air, eyes looking up, waiting for the all too familiar sound of the Doors closing. They had to time this just right.

Boom. And there it was. Time for action.

"Okay, just put your arm over my shoulder, and I'm gonna drag you," he ordered, all in one breath. They were going to have to fake a struggle.

"What?!" Newt asked, dumbfounded.

"Just do it, slinthead!" Newt rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time, but followed along. He slung his arm over Minho's shoulders, leaning most of his body weight against him. He let his bad leg go limp, really playing into it.

They slowly started jogging over to the doors, Minho dragging Newt in tow, as he yelled out dramatically. Newt did his best to look helpless, struggling along.

As they ran, they saw the Gladers cheering them on, yelling encouragement. Alby was at the front of the pack, brows creased in worry, as he yelled at them to hurry. He felt a glimmer of guilt, at making Alby- making everyone- worry about them. He decidedly ignored it, knowing this was for a good cause.

Minho spotted Thomas, who was standing right near the opening of the Doors. He was twitching restlessly, clearly anxious to run, eyes following them closely.

The Doors moved even closer together, any second now, they would shut completely.

They continued struggling towards the Doors, neither of them ever having any intention of making it. Minho grunted under Newt's weight on him, from where he had practically thrown himself onto his shoulders.

Up ahead, the Doors were seconds away from closing, the great stone walls moving towards fast.

Thomas moved, breaking into a run, ignoring the cries of the Gladers behind him to not do it. He pressed himself into the rapidly closing gap of the Doors, their sides pressing against him. He sprinted through them seconds before they closed, sliding between the connecting rods. Minho rolled his eyes at Thomas' theatrics, internally snickering. Of course that slinthead has to be as dramatic as possible.

Minho and Newt slowed down, coming to a stop in front of Thomas, who stood there, panting heavily, but otherwise perfectly still.

For a few seconds, they stared at each other in silence, not saying a word; Newt, still favouring his right leg, eased himself off of Minho, who rolled the kinks out of his shoulders. The three of them shared a look, relief mixing with nervousness and something else.

Not a minute later, Minho felt a bubble of laughter escape him. It was a breathy sort of laugh, more air than sound. He wasn't even sure what he found so funny- maybe it was just pure relief at something going as planned. Newt was quick to elbow him in the stomach, giving him a look that said, Slim it.