The Maze Runner Imagines: Newt (Thomas Brodie Sangster) Book 2

why wait till tomorrow

My black boots seemed to echo through the dark cobblestones streets, the sound of it echoing off rock and steel. The sky that loomed over me was the constant grey, having never once seen anything else.

I kept my breaths steady as I walked making sure not to draw attention to myself.

As much as you can try, you can't be invisible. It's whether or not you get noticed.

I felt my watch vibrate slightly on my wrist. I didn't need to look at it, I knew what it meant. A moment later the sharp sound erupted.

From every lamppost and street sign sat metal speakers they whined and crackled slightly as they always did before the song began.

'All Hail Wicked.

In Her Beauty.

In Her Times of trial

and success.

All Hail to Wicked

and the spark high above us all

bringing us songs and shade from the sun. All Hail to Wicked

blessed are we to be with her.

All Hail to Wicked

Let her reign forever more.'

I hated the damn song.

It played from these speakers twice a day, more on holidays and events.

Everyone knew it.

Everyone sang it.

The original recording of the song was done so many years ago the original singer was long dead, even if her voice was still hauntingly plaid.

The echo of the song filled the air as everyone sang it in perfect time and perfect tune.

But I suppose they had to, from as early as you could speak you'd be taught it and I'd heard stories of people being whisked away to the isle for daring to ignore the song, there was a tale on the print a year or so ago that told of a man who forgot a line one day, his ankles were broken by the enforcers and this was reported in the print as a good thing, enforcement was praised and the man because a social pariah.

I hurried myself heading down the street past the Langford theatre where the man himself stood. I didn't say a word to him and he said none to me.

Simply moving over to stand with me, walking in line with our boots and words hidden by the loud song.

"Ya ready for this?" Vince asks

"As I'll ever be" I told him "news on Minho?"

"Not a word since last Cresent" he says "gave up y/n. He's dead. Or worse."

"I hope he's dead" I told him as we walked soon enough snuck in an alley I spotted the red mop of hair a shock to his black outfit of jeans and a long button down. We didn't say a word to him and he didn't to us but he joined us.

I picked up the pace knowing we didn't have long, they were on the last verse the further we went more people in black we came across and all of them joined our walk so by the time we reached the corner of new Oxford Street we had a crowd of At least fifty people just as the song was on its last few lines.

"We'll hang back. Wait for the cue" Vince spoke up

"Understood" I nodded

"Make some fireworks y/n" Harriet smirked handing me the large metal hammer from his bag