After I've cleaned up, I notice how different I look now that the blood and mud have been washed away. It makes me feel human again.  I find that a fresh set of clothes have been laid out on the table.  I pull them on, wincing as I hurt all over.

The pilot came in with a backpack, a coat,  and a bottle of water. I took it eagerly, and drank. It was such a relief to be hydrated again. The pilot shook her head, took the bottle back and said something about having to refill it again and getting food as well. She left the backpack on the table and walked out the room. Sure enough, she returned with another full bottle and a loaf of bread.  

"Pace yourself, ok?" She told me, "This is meant to last you a good few miles. There's also food in your backpack, but since you pretty much, drained the bottle, I thought you might be hungry." She nodded towards the loaf of bread.

"Thanks. " I said.

She nodded and turned to leave.

"Thanks for also saving me back there. If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead, " I added quickly.

She turned back, "From what I had seen, I knew you and Thomas were close. Even if you were a Crank, you were also Thomas's friend- a friend who now Thomas owes his life to."

"Tommy doesn't owe me. I owe him though. He risked getting stung by a griever, just so we could get out of the shuck maze. Out of anyone, it's Tommy who deserves to live."

"Pity he's going back then, who knows what WICKED's gonna do to him." said the woman with a small smile.

"That's why I'm going with him," I say," So he doesn't get hurt, because friends look out for each other, right till the end."

The pilot looked as though she was about to cry, "Even if one's a Crank?"

I nod, "Even if one's a Crank. Tommy would do the same for me."

The pilot gave a sad smile, "Best of luck ... what's your name?"

"Newt," I reply.

"I'm Charley, Well best of luck Newt." She said and walked nonchalantly out the room.

Just before the door shuts though, I see Charley take a photograph out her pocket and look at it. Then the door shuts, and I'm left the stuff. I quickly pull on the coat and zip it up. I add the bottle of water into my backpack and  swing it onto my back-it's lighter than I expected. I wolf down the loaf of bread, and walk out the door. Lawrence sees me, "Hurry up-no. This way! Away from Thomas. Your friend is either the bravest kid I've ever seen, or he's just stupid. "

"Why?" I ask.

"'Cos he doesn't care anymore." Lawrence said.

"That's probably because of me," I mumble, but Lawrence doesn't seem to hear me. I'm led to a side door.

"When we descend, just jump ok? Don't think about it," Lawrence tells me. I just nod.

Then he says," Now I've got to see to that friend of yours." He walks off quickly.

I open the door, and look out. I immediately feel dizzy. I never told any of the Gladers, but ever since I'd half leaped, half fell off that maze wall, I'd had a fear of heights. My limp was a constant reminder of that phobia.  At about four feet off the ground, I push myself off, and I free fall desperately hoping for some soft grass... I'm unlucky and I smack right into the frozen ground.  Pain shoots up my right leg-the leg with the limp.