The One I Love || Newt-TMR

Chapter 23

The fresh, cool air whipped past me as I leapt down into the malevolent cage. Somehow I managed to land on my feet, and maintain my balance as the Box swayed back and forth furiously. The movement brought back a wave of memories when Gally had jumped down here, the swinging making my stomach churn.

Soon after, Newt jumped down next to me, his body automatically folding up to brace the impact. The Box hardly moved once he jumped in, and it was clear to me then that Newt was much more experienced in doing this than I.

"So what exactly am I supposed to do down here?" I inquired while surveying the area around me. It was surprising how different the Box seemed now that I wasn't scared out of my mind. I could see so much detail then I did before.

I was quick to notice how the wire that stretched along diagonally was slowly being eaten away by a deep red-brown rust. As I spun around some more, I noticed a familiar sounding label messily spray painted onto each of the boxes. The deceiving red paint dripped down the boxes a little, however it was still clear what the label read.

WICKED.

I inhaled quickly as I read each box; the exact same label printed on every one. The strong smell of copper hung heavily in the air as I breathed in, my nose crinkling up with the overpowering scent.

"Well first we are gonna inspect each crate for anything new or different, and by then there will be someone to help us get all these outta here." Newt answered, his accent seeming more prominent as it bounced off the metal cage walls and echoed down the black pit beneath us.

"Why do you have to check for anything new or different?" I probed as I walked over to a large rectangular crate and ran my hand over the wooden surface. The wood felt ruff against my skin as my hand continued to run along the top of the crate.

"We are always searching for a possible sign or way of escaping here. Whether that's out in the Maze, or here in the Glade, we always need to be looking; even if we know there won't be anything down here." Newt's voice reduced to a low murmur, his eyes glistening with desperation.

"Well that's depressing." I muttered under my breath as I pried the wooden top of the crate away to reveal a small box filled with various medical equipment. Directly beside it was another box, only this one was filled with strange cylindrical glass tubes filled with a sapphire blue liquid.

I reached down and picked one up; its touch cold in my hands. The glass tube was secured in a metal container which had a cap. Curious, a pulled the cap away from the tube to discover a long, silver needle at least the length of my pinky finger.

"What the hell is this stuff? I haven't seen it before in the Medjack's room." I asked, turning around to hand the syringe to Newt. He hardly glanced over his shoulder to look at it before returning his attention to the short crate in front of him.

"That's just Grief Serum." Newt replied uninterested. My grip tightened around the syringe as I gulped loudly.

"Grief Serum?"

"Yeah. it's what we give to the bloody shanks who get stung by a Griever. Griever, Grief Serum; I'm sure you can see the connection." Newt continued as if everything he just said was the most normal thing on earth.

"Oh.' Was all I could manage as I stumbled back to the crate. Just as I was about to place the syringe back down where I found it, I noticed a deep creamy violet purple liquid in a syringe just below it. I swapped it for the one in my hand and held it up to the light. Unlike the Greif Serum, this had a thick, opaque appearance.

"And what's this one?" I asked yet again turning to show Newt.

Just as he had before, Newt quickly glanced over his shoulder to inspect the vial, and quickly looked back, however he didn't answer. After a second, his head swung back around and he snatched the syringe from my hands, standing up and inspecting it closer.