Night Visions (TMR) (Newtmas)

04 (*)

Not a soul moved nor flinched for a second. Then someone cracked a nasty blue joke, triggering a typhoon of whispered comments and childish sniggering. Primary school toddlers would have behaved better, Thomas thought—at least because they would have had more interesting businesses to mind.

"Everyone, get the shuck back to your thing!" Alby howled. Two or three boys he slayed with a fearsome stare before the crowd got the message. Shaking their heads and taking the last peeks at the unconscious girl, the Gladers slowly walked away until only their two leaders, Gally, Thomas, and Chuck were left standing around her.

Two Med-jacks took the new newbie—because okay, Thomas was mostly terrified that they might charge him with murder on his second day, but a small part of him was just too sick of the whole newbie thing and demanded that someone else take the dubtious honour before worrying about anything else—to the Homestead. Which was quite unuseful, on the other hand, because they had no meds nor any idea what happened to her. It was simply as if Alby wanted to say, 'Hey, we have no clue what to do with you, but at least we ain't being nasty' in case she woke, or the Creators decided to drop by to check on her.

Slight gusts of breeze tickled on their cheeks. Alby turned to Newt. "Something's whacked. Call a Gathering."

Whatever a Gathering was, it sounded official enough.

Both of them walked away, discussing through gritted teeth. As they became figures the size of a fist stencilled against the diffuse grey of the Northern Wall, Gally dramatically spun around to stare at Thomas despectively and spit. Thomas and Chuck were quite literally taken aback, staring at the bright mucus on the grass.

"Enough of this sick little game."

"Sorry?" Ducking his head to the right, stray, Thomas stared at Gally, all menacing looks and pumped-up arms folded across the chest. He looked like a fighting bull ready to drive the horns deep into Thomas' side.

"Newt. Stood up for you, slinthead. Not something he'd usually do for a dumbass Greenbean, leave alone a little klunk who comes out of the Box like he owns the place. You think you're better than us, eh? Maybe you want to teach us some lesson, yeah?"

"Listen, I—"

"Now you listen up, slinthead, 'cause I ain't repeating this. I saw you during the Changing, now I see you drooling over our second-in-command. You're up to no good. Take my advice, little piece of crap—we aren't in any need here for shucks like you who seek power, and if I have to dirty my hands to bring you down, it's going to be my pleasure. Believe me. One false move and I'll sink you in the stinkiest shucking klunk. Watch out, Greenbean."

The phlem that put an end to his glorious threat landed dangerously near Chuck's foot. Both Thomas and he took a new step backwards. With one last scornful glance, Gally left. Thomas shook his head in a mood that was somewhere inbetween incredulity and disbelief.

"Hey, what's his problem? This is my second day. I haven't had the time to mess up with anyone." He raised his hands, palms up, in wonder.

"Everyone is Gally's problem," said Chuck, and patted his shoulder. "Worry little or simply don't worry. It just means you're one of us now. Welcome aboard!" His smile seemed to falter for a second, so brief that Thomas assured himself it must have been an optical illusion. "We're all in the same boat, here."

With a shrug, Thomas rubbed his cheek. The sun felt warm on his skin now, and the bright emerald carpet below his feet rustled with the morning breeze. "Thanks, I think. Whatever." His stomach roared in protest. "Oh, right, I didn't finish breakfast. Can we get something somewhere? I'm starving."

Chuck grined at the beastlike noise and nodded, grabbing Thomas' hand. "You think you're better than us, eh? You wanna breakfast outside breakfast hours, little klunk?"