IT STARTED WITH A MAZE - Newt x Reader (F)

- BACKUP -

My shoulder knocks into Newt as he instinctively throws out a hand to keep me from falling. I slam into it. "Please don't say I told you so," I gasp, still trying to catch my breath.

"Well," he mutters, barely able to smirk.

"Shoot, Newt!" Thomas yells, voice rising as the first of the front horde starts to scream. They're closer than we realised - twisted limbs, eyes burning like embers, jaws stretching too wide.

Newt raises the rifle and fires. His arm jerks back with each shot, a soft wince on his face from the pressure. He turns, pivots, fires behind us. A Crank drops screaming. The others stumble over it like animals. He keeps going-

But theres nothing. "We're out," Newt says grimly.

"Shuck," Fry mutters.

"Shit," I echo, voice nearly lost beneath the screeching tide.

That's when we hear it. A mechanical growl, low and growing louder - coming fast. The roar of an engine behind us. A second later, headlights burst through the smoke. A massive truck barrels forward, straight down the tunnel, plowing through the Cranks behind us like they're nothing. They fly off the hood, tossed into the air like rags. One slams against the windshield and rolls off, lifeless.

The truck screeches to a halt beside us, the smell of burnt rubber mingling with blood and rust. Brenda pops up from the roof-mounted hatch, gun in hand, hair flying in her face. "HEY! GET IN!" I don't even register the relief- I just move.

Jorge's in the driver's seat, both hands gripping the wheel, face tense as stone. The back of the truck is open. We all scramble - leaping for the edge. Thomas boosts Fry first. Then Newt. I grab the edge and feel hands - Newt's - yank me up and over as Brenda's fun fires mercilessly. "Go, Jorge!!" Thomas yells, vaulting up after me.

Brenda drops back through the hatch just as the engine screams to life again. The truck launches forward. Behind us, the Cranks give chase - limping, flailing, snarling like a stampede of dying things. Some slam into the truck. Others lose ground fast. But their cries don't.

They don't stop screaming.

The tunnel becomes a blur - concrete walls flashing by, broken signs vanishing in the taillights. And then I see it. Up ahead. That light. A soft glow at first. Then a full-on flood.

The end of the tunnel.

"Come on, come on," I whisper, clinging to the metal railing at the back of the truck. Every bump rattles through my bones. My throat is dry, my body drenched in sweat and soot and fear. The light gets closer. And then, we break through. We shoot out of the tunnel into the daylight, the sudden burst of brightness washing over everything. It floods the truck bed, catching in Fry's wide eyes, Newt's clenched jaw, Thomas's shaking hands.

We made it.

Behind us, the tunnel narrows, and the Cranks vanish back into shadow.

We drive, wind rushing past us. No one says anything right away - we're all too busy breathing.

The world stretches wide and raw around us - drylands in every direction, sunbaked earth fractured with heat lines. The mountains stand distant with sharp, jagged silhouettes stabbing up from the horizon like the bones of something long dead. Jorge whistles low from the driver's seat. "I'm impressed. You guys almost lasted a whole day," he jests.

I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror. The corner of his mouth lifts, just slightly. "Brenda. Jorge," I breathe, voice cracking with the smoke still in my lungs.

"Yeah," Brenda says, glancing over her shoulder from the passenger seat. There's grit on her cheeks, sweat darkening her collar. "I got your note."

Thomas twists to look at me. "You left a note?"

I raise my eyebrows at him. My look says Of course I did. "By my memory," I say, brushing ash from my knee, "that note said we didn't want to drag you into this."

Brenda shakes her head with that faint, amused disbelief she always reserves for me. "What she means to say," Fry cuts in before she can retort, "is thank you for saving us."

Thomas offers Brenda a grateful smile. She looks at him first, not me. "You're welcome," she says simply. But then she glances back at me, softer now. "But you should thank (Y/n). For leaving the note." Brenda turns around, facing forward again, scanning the terrain.

Jorge keeps the truck rumbling along a winding dirt path carved along a ridge. "You kids shouldn't get your hopes up," he mutters. "That was the city's last checkpoint. If it's overrun, chances are the city is too."

"Yeah," Newt says, eyes narrowing. "Unless they figured out some other way to keep the Cranks out."

"What do you-" I start, but I trail off. Because I see it too. We all do.

Jorge slams the brakes.

The truck jerks, tires grinding into the dirt, and we all pile out without a word. We're high up now - maybe the highest we've been yet. A jagged overlook drops down into a vast basin below. And there it is.

The city.

Not ruins. Not some broken settlement like we've seen a hundred times. A real city. Tall, gleaming skyscrapers reach for the sky - new builds, glass and steel that haven't yet been claimed by vines or rot. The buildings rise like sentries in the golden haze of dusk, their windows glinting with light.

And surrounding it all: a wall.

Not just any wall. A monstrous ring of reinforced metal and concrete, thick as a fortress, easily hundreds of meters high. Seamless. Impenetrable. It circles the city like a moat made of stone. "Funny," Newt breathes. He crosses his arms, lips twitching into something that's almost a smile. "I spent three years trapped behind walls trying to break out. Now we wanna break back in."

"Hilarious," Frypan murmurs, kicking a rock off the ledge.

I step closer to the edge, bracing myself against a dead tree trunk, eyes locked on the skyline. "How are we going to get in?" I ask quietly.

Maybe Vince was right. Maybe we're just chasing ghosts. "Don't look at me for that, hermana," Jorge says from the truck's side. "Those walls? They're new. They weren't here when I last came through."

Brenda walks over to me, bumping her shoulder into mine gently. "Well," she says, shrugging toward the valley, "we aren't gonna figure it out from up here."

She turns and heads back to the truck. Fry follows. Jorge's already climbing back into the cab, muttering about how he hates mountains. I stay rooted to the spot, staring out over the shimmering buildings and that impossible wall. Thomas and Newt equally stay put for a moment longer. "I'm praying he's in there," I say, voice barely above the wind.

Newt comes up beside me, watching the city, watching Thomas. "Someone else will be there too," he says. But the words are meant for Thomas more than me.

Thomas doesn't respond. He just stares at the wall like it's already defeated him. "Yeah," he says finally. "And we can't save both of them." Then he turns, walks back to the truck, and climbs in.

The engine roars to life. The tires chew into the dirt. And just like that, we're on the move again - toward the wall, toward Minho, toward whatever waits inside.

Toward the impossible.

~