Day Seven Hundred and Thirty Two

Newt's hands scraped against the stone, his heart slamming hard against his ribcage. "No, no, no, no, no-"

"That son of a bitch!" Gally yelled, slamming his fist angrily against the closed doors. His hand was still outstretched, his eyes fixed on the place where Thomas had vanished between the walls. "What the hell was he thinking?! He's gonna die in there!"

"He was just trying to help," someone spoke up from behind them, but Newt couldn't hear them, not with his ears ringing and his focus fixed solely on the slab of grey in front of him.

"We need to get these doors open." His voice broke around the sentence, rasping out the words. "We need to get these doors open, we need to get to them, we need to-"

Gally shook his head. "Newt-"

"They're right there!" Newt yelled, flinging out a hand towards the door. "She's right there! We have to get them out!"

"It's no use," Frypan said sadly, shaking his head. "Ain't no way to get those doors open when they're shut. Everyone knows that."

"So what, we just wait?!"

"For what?" One of the gladers asked. Newt didn't recognise him, but his face was ashen and drawn with grief. "They looked banged up pretty bad. You really think they can outrun a Griever?"

"I don't like their chances." One of the builders chimed in worriedly.

Newt's head was spinning, black dots sparking in front of his eyes. "They'll be fine," he spat, harsher than intended, "they'll be fine, they have to be fine."

Gally's hand clamped down on his arm, tugging him away from the crowd. He cast a furtive glance over his shoulder at them before turning back to Newt, lips pressed into a thin line. "You need to get it together."

"Excuse me?" Newt's voice rose without his permission. "They're trapped in there, and they're hurt! I need to get to them-"

"Well you can't." Gally shook his head. Despite the tightness of his shoulders and the harshness of his voice, his eyes were clouded with worry. "You're second in command, Newt, and both of our leaders are trapped in there overnight. We have to face the facts. They might not walk away from this, and if they don't? You're in charge. The glade is looking to you for leadership, okay?"

"I don't want that!" Newt hissed. "I don't want to be in charge, I don't want this place looking to me, alright? I just want them back!"

Alby, who had become like a brother to him, a constant guardian who had shown him the way. Minho, his closest friend, one of the only sources of joy in that godforsaken place. Ada, who had become everything. Those feelings of despair and terror were rising hard and fast again, just like they had the year before, when everything had seemed so dark and cold and there had only been one way out.

By the look on Gally's face, he knew exactly what was going on inside Newt's head. "You can't go there." He said sharply. "You can't do that again, okay? Listen, Ada's strong, they all are. And, god help me, they have Thomas in there with them now. Give them until dawn."

Zart walked past them, a knife gripped firmly in his hand. His eyes were bloodshot, his face wet.

"Where are you going?" Gally asked, stepping away from Newt.

"To cross their names off the wall."

"No." Newt took a step forward, eyes narrowed. "No, they might make it."

"They aren't going to."

"You don't know that!"

"After all the shit you guys have seen out there? After what happened to every other shank that got trapped in that place overnight?" Zart shook his head. "They're gone, we need to accept that."

"At least give them a chance." It was Chuck's small voice that had Zart faltering. He was stood off to the side, eyes glassy with tears. His gaze kept darting from the doors to them, his entire body trembling like a leaf. "You gotta give them a chance."

"It's late," Winston said, looking up at the sky. "We should eat, then tuck in for the night."

Newt shook his head, the very idea of sleeping suddenly seeming abhorrent to him. But the rest of the gladers were nodding tentatively, looking to each other for any shred of normalcy or hope. They wouldn't find any, not when arguably the three most important people in the glade were lost to them forever.

And Thomas, of course.

"Newt." Gally said pointedly, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Yeah," he said quietly, shoulders sagging. "Yeah, get some food, turn in for the night." His voice was dead to his own ears, lifeless and dreary. He was met with weary stares and tired nods, but even as the others began to trickle away from the doors, he stayed exactly where he was.

"You need to sleep," Gally said softly, looking far more considerate now that the others had left. Only Chuck and Frypan stayed with them, their round faces wrought tight with fear and worry.

"I can't." Newt shook his head, turning back to face the doors. Dark was settling in everywhere now; the torches from the Homestead didn't shed light this far out, and the wall was wreathed in shadows, writhing like monsters.

"You're no good to them dead on your feet." Gally said, the word 'dead' ringing harshly in the air.

"He's right, Newt." Frypan nodded, eyes fixed on the ground. "When they get out of there in the morning they'll need their sleep. Someone has to be in charge while they're snoozing."

"I'm staying here," Newt said stubbornly. He would have sat down to prove his point, but that restless energy was all consuming and he itched with the urge to pace. "I'll wait here for them."

"I'll stay with you." Gally nodded.

"Me too," Chuck sat down on the grass, uncaring of the dampness, and wrapped his arms around himself.

Fry looked between them, eyebrows raised. "Well, it ain't a party unless I'm there. I'll come back when I've served dinner. I'll bring you guys some food."

Newt wasn't hungry, not in the slightest, but there was something about the anxious energy Frypan carried that told him he needed to be doing something. If taking care of them made him feel better, who was he to refuse?

Night fell quickly, a thick cloak of darkness setting over them. Newt didn't move, staring at the wall, knowing that nearly everyone he cared about was trapped on the other side of it, just out of reach.