Error | The Maze Runner / Newt ? ?

{1.3}

He didn't finish, and he didn't have to. We all knew what he meant.

We have to assume they're dead.

If Brenda was smart and fast, she could've gotten Thomas out. They could be off somewhere in another direction. We'd all meet up at the edge of the city and I'd slap Thomas upside the head for being so stupid as to fall behind, and we'd all be okay. We'd be fine.

The air was heavy now, but not with heat. It was dense with loss and death, mixed with the scent of blood, sweat, and our skin baking under the sun. I felt ice cold despite the stifling temperature. Thomas couldn't be dead. He couldn't because there was no way I'd survive and he wouldn't, no way we wouldn't always be together at the end of the day, no way I was going to let him be gone.

Panic was seizing me before I could stop it. Its vicious hands grasped my lungs and squeezed, forcing the air out of them and compressing my chest until the blood drained from my face. I took a step back and clutched my throat in an effort to breathe. My back hit the wall hard as I struggled to get oxygen into my lungs, but all I could feel was hot air in my mouth that was refusing to go down my trachea.

"Dylan—"

"Holy shuck—"

"Where's Clint or Jeff?"

"Gone. Both gone."

"You should not have said a word, culo."

I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the voices of my friends, trying to focus on breathing as my face began to heat up. Colors swam behind my eyelids. My mind was turning to mush. I could hardly think, and everything hurt and I wished I could just breathe, dammit.

Slowly, I felt oxygen fill my lungs. I had never felt so relieved. My face returned to its normal shade as my breathing evened itself out with time. Soon, I was able to open my eyes and was met with a pair of brown ones- Minho.

"You alright?" he asked, real concern evident on his face. "You gave us a real scare, shank. Never do that again."

"It's not like it was in my control," I pointed out weakly. Minho pretended not to hear me and put a hand on my shoulder, lifting his lips in the tiniest of reassuring smiles someone could possibly give. His eyes didn't smile with him.

Theo and Newt were shouting at Jorge, who looked slightly alarmed and confused by the fact that two teenage boys were scolding him. I couldn't hear what they were saying. All I could catch was, "You son of a shank," "twin brother," "never mention him again," "fist in your face," and "te patearé en las bolas."*

That last bit was obviously Theo.

It was strange that Minho was showing any type of physical affection toward me. Normally, he only teased and joked around with me, but now he was being nice and it weighed my heart down. He was being nice because he thought my brother was dead.

I shook my head slightly and pushed away the thought, locking it away in the back of my brain. Thomas wasn't dead. He and Brenda were safe. I would see him again.

That one thought is what kept me relatively sane as Jorge re-explained what Thomas had told him, making sure he had all the facts right. We were to go directly north for a hundred miles in two weeks in order to find a cure. He sighed and told us that going directly north in the city was impossible because the deeper into town you went, the worse the Cranks got. There was also the problem of finding food and water. Jorge himself didn't even seem to think we were capable of making it on time.