Night Visions (TMR) (Newtmas)

16

His legs moved before he could actually think of doing so, and suddenly, Thomas found himself opening the Homestead door and storming in. He had been more than glad to get out mere seconds ago, but that scream —it was Alby, no doubt. And Thomas felt responsible for him.

A pair of strong hands grabbed his biceps and stopped him short. His arms protested against the harsh gesture, and he almost collapsed to the floor; though his captor kept him standing. "Hey, hey, hey. No goin' in, dude."

"But he—" Thomas tried to say. Minho shook his head.

"If you get in there, at least three Keepers will try to push you downstairs and say you accidentally fell and broke your neck. You're bonkers if you still wanna get in."

Thomas gave it a thought, and then stopped opposing resistance. He didn't want to be pathetically killed by Gally or any other one. He directly didn't want to be pathetically killed —even better; he didn't want to be killed.

Smiling, Minho punched him playfully in the arm. "I've heard it's all this shank's fault. Thomas, can it be?"

Relaxing, Thomas punched back. "Keeper? You want me to be a Keeper? You're nuttier than Gally by a long shot."

Minho faked an evil grin. "Worked, didn't it? Aim high, hit low. Thank me later."

Thomas laughed, impressed by the Runner's intelligent modus operandi. "However —what happened finally in there?"

"Well..." Minho playfully caressed his chin, as if doubting whether to tell him or not. "You know, there was a kind of revolution after some Thomas guy said that he was into our leader..."

"I didn't say that," the same Thomas guy whispered, feeling like his body had turned into an industrial-sized heater.

"...Everyone went crazy, 'course. Newt had to kick some asses before everyone honoured us returning to their seats. That Gally crummy was almost kicked out, which I would've happily voted for, but unfortunately didn't happen. Then, some blabber here and there, everyone talking shit about the Thomas guy..., until Newt, again, almost Banished them all for being such incompetents. Whatever. You've been elected as a Runner, starting tomorrow, and you're going to have a very nice and funny day at the Slammer. I think it's tomorrow as well, from sunrise to sunset."

The amount of information made Thomas feel a bit dizzy, but he got the basics:

a) Everyone thought he was into Newt. (Something that even he himself wasn't certain about.)

b) Gladers were not very happy about guys loving guys. (It sounded stupid and childish when you thought of it, actually.)

c) He was a Runner now. (FINALLY.)

d) He'd have to spend a whole day in a filthy and seedy jail instead of training or running through the Maze. (It was the most stupid thing he had ever heard of, but if following the rules meant earning some sympathy again, then hey, where do I sign in?)

And the most important of them all: he definitely had to learn to keep his mouth shut.

All of a sudden, Chuck, who had apparently disappeared into the building without anyone noticing, opened the door and looked at Thomas. He looked like he had just been chased by a Griever, and all happiness about being a Runner vanished.

"What's wrong, Chuckie?" Minho asked.

Chuck wouldn't stop wringing his hands. "Med-jacks sent me. Alby's acting all crazy, telling them he needs to talk to somebody."

Minho nodded, and grabbed the doorknob. "Fine. I'll go tell Newt and—" He quietened when Chuck shook his head.

The boy pointed at Thomas. "He doesn't want him. He keeps asking for Thomas."