The Boy With The Limp || TMR Fanfic || DISCONTINUED

Chapter 32: The Code

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Hazel's P.O.V

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    "Is he gonna be alright?" I ask, kneeling down with Newt.
    "Where'd you go?" interrupts Minho, who was standing behind us.
    I turn my head to face the person Minho's talking to.
    "To talk to Teresa-" Thomas begins, he stops when he sees the look on my face. "What happened?"
    "Our Map Room was set on fire and you ran off to talk to your shuck girlfriend?! What's wrong with you?" Minho shouts.
    "I don't think it matters any more- if you haven't figured out the Maps by now..." Thomas trails off.

    Minho looked disgusted. "Yeah, this'd be a great freaking time to give up. What the-"
    "I'm sorry- just tell me what happened." Thomas leans over the shoulder of the boy's standing in front of him to get a better look at the body on the ground.
    It was Alby, flat on his back, with a huge gash running across his forehead. Blood streamed down both sides of his head, some into his eyes. Newt was cleaning it off with a wet rag, whispering to Alby.

    Thomas, turns to Minho and repeats his question.
    "Winston found him here, half dead, with the Map Room on fire." Minho begins. "Some shank got in there and put it out, but it was too late. All the trucks were burnt to a freaking crisp."
    "We suspected Alby at first, but as you can probably see whoever did it slammed his shuck head into the table." I add, standing up.
   "Who do you think did it?" Thomas asks, he seemed hesitant to tell us something.

    "Maybe Gally started the fire before he showed up in the Homestead and went psycho? Maybe the Grievers did it? I don't know, and don't care. Doesn't matter." Minho says.
    "Now who's the one giving up?" Thomas retorts.
    Oh my Griever, Thomas. Stop adding fuel to the fire, I beg silently.
    Minho's head snapped up so quickly I thought he might have whiplash.
   "That's not what I meant, shank."
    Thomas narrows his eyes in curiosity. "What did-"

    "Just shut your hole for now." Minho then put his fingers to his lips, his eyes darting to see if anyone was looking at him. "You'll find out soon enough."
    Thomas takes a deep breath. "Minho, I need to tell you, Hazel and Newt something. And we need to let Teresa out- she's probably starving and we could use her help."
    "That stupid girl is the last thing I'm worried about."
    Thomas ignored the insult, which surprised me. "Just give us a few minutes- we have an idea. Maybe it'll still work if enough Runners memorized their Maps."

    That seemed to get Minho's attention, but the expression on his face told me that he wasn't telling us something. "An idea? What?"
    "Just come to the Slammer with me. You and Newt."
    Minho thought about it for a second. "Newt!"
    "Yeah?" Newt stands up, refolding his bloody rag to find a clean spot. I couldn't help but notice that every centimeter of it was drenched in Alby's blood.
    Minho points down at the unconscious boy. "Let the Med-Jacks take care of him. We need to talk."

    Newt gives him a questioning look, then hands the rag to the closest Glader, which just happend to be Nathan. "Nathan, go and find Clint- tell him that we've got worse problems then guys with buggin' splinters."
    "Sure thing, Newt." Nathan says, taking the bloody rag in his hand, then running off to find the said Med-Jack.
    Newt steps away from Alby. "Talk about what?"
    "Just come with me." Thomas says. Then, he turns and heads for the Slammer without waiting for a response.
    "Can I come too?" I ask, facing at the two older boys.
    Minho nods his head. "Yeah. After all, you're still a Runner."