Fatality
So yeah, it’s a fire
It’s a goddamn blaze in the dark
And you started it
You started it
So yeah, it’s a war
It’s the goddamn fight of my life
And you started it
You started it (yes, you did)
***
Why had that nickname slipped out? Newt hadn’t started calling him that until they’d gotten to the Scorch.
But Thomas had no time to dwell on that, for Newt was standing back with a smirk.
“Let’s go, Tommy. The sooner you start, the sooner you’ll get it done.”
“You little shit.” Thomas muttered under his breath, smiling briefly. It was good to see Newt happy, even if it was at the cost of his own comfort.
“What was that?” Newt called out, cheerful, skipping ahead of him, kicking the muddy dirt.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than watch me in pain?” Thomas joked, starting to remove the strangling weeds from the terrain.
“No, not really.” Newt said thoughtfully. “This is kind of a day off right now, really. Well, not officially, but nobody’s here to make the rules except for me, so…”
“Can I have a day off?”
“You can start working, certainly, Tommy.”
***
Newt grew gradually more and more anxious as time passed, and soon enough a moment couldn’t pass without him turning his head towards the Maze doors. Thomas’ eyes flickered up to him until he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Hey, Newt, you wanna just wait for Minho and Alby by the Doors?” Thomas suggested, and dropped the hoe.
Newt looked incredibly thankful, dropping a bucket of fertilizer (not acquired by Thomas due to the Ben incident) and they made their way over to a grassy mound just metres away from the looming stone walls they called ‘The Doors.’
Newt looked furtive, fingers curling into each other as they sat beside each other.
“Are you all right?” Thomas asked, but he already knew the answer.
“Brilliant,” said Newt, even though he definitely wasn’t. “It’s fine. They’ll be just fine. Won’t they?”
Thomas was silent.
***
“Why are they taking so long?” Newt wondered aloud, scratching his leg anxiously. “They should be here by now.”
“It’s fine,” Thomas said, even thought he knew it wasn’t.
“Like you’d know, right, Greenie?” Newt rounded on him angrily, looking in his eyes as if he wanted Thomas to know. But it wasn’t anger. Newt was earnest.
“There’s no point worrying about it. We can’t do anything from here.”
***
“Hey, Tommy, come over here. Check this out…”
Newt’s voice echoed through the abandoned building. Thomas followed the sound, his curiosity piqued.
In a dimly lit room, Newt stood beside an old wooden shelf that held a dusty board game. It had seen better days, its box slightly crushed, but the pieces inside looked intact. Newt’s eyes sparkled with an unexpected enthusiasm.
Thomas approached, taking in the sight. “What’s that?”
Newt grinned. “A board game. I used to play these back in the day, before the Glade, before the Maze.” His voice turned nostalgic as he carefully pulled the game from the shelf. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen one of these.”
Thomas studied the box. The title was faded but still readable: “Monopoly.”
“Seems fitting,” Thomas said, his lips curving into a small smile.
They dusted off the box and cleared a space on the floor to set it up. As they began to play, the tension and stress of their daily struggle in the Scorch started to fade. For a while, it was just two friends, engrossed in a simple board game.
When they finally finished the game, Newt leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “That was something, Tommy.”
Thomas nodded in agreement, feeling a newfound closeness with Newt. “Yeah, it was.”
In that moment, they both knew that despite the dangers of the Scorch and the looming mysteries of the world outside, they had each other to rely on, and they would face whatever challenges came their way together.
***
Groups of boys began to crowd around the outside of the maze. They were murmuring, shuffling around, and Newt pushed through them, and they opened up, already accepting him as leader. They waited for a dull few minutes as gusts of winter wind coming from inside the maze rocked them harshly. Thomas kept his eyes fixated on the maze, waiting for them to come through so he could run in just as the walls were about. He thought guiltily of Newt and Chuck; but Thomas had survived it last time. Twice is a charm? Or was he jinxing it by starting again?
“Look! They’re over there!” Chuck yelled breathlessly. Thomas snapped his eyes towards them, focusing again. Minho was dragging Alby,
“They’re not gonna make it in time!” Someone yelled.
Time seemed to lull, and Thomas could see every inch of concentration on Minho and Alby’s face. Minho was further away this time. He took a look back at Newt and determinedly slid through the walls just as they were about to shut with a loud clang.
But this time, there was no yell from Newt. Instead, a warm body was pressed close to him as he tumbled onto the maze floor.
“Congratulations,” Minho said. “You two just killed yourselves.”