In my Blood

CHAPTER 13 - Goodbye

His body is trembling and eyes are unnaturally wide, black veins bulging out of his forehead. In one hand is the cylinder from the Griever's body... in the other is a gun.

"Gally?" Thomas exclaims, stepping forward. I put a hand to his chest.

"Don't," I warn, "he's been stung."

Gally slowly shakes his head with a torn expression. "You can't leave," he splutters. Tears drip from his maddened eyes. The gun shakes in his hand. No one dares to move an inch.

"We did," Thomas states carefully, "Gally, we're out... we're free."

Gally takes a sharp breath in. "Free? You think we're free out there?" I see Newt and Minho share a worried glance. "No. No, there's no escape from this place." He raises his gun to Thomas' face. My hand flies to my mouth as I try to stop myself from screaming out. Everyone shuffles backwards, and I try to inch a little closer to Chuck, who's eyes are glistening in fear, and I grasp onto his arm, pushing him behind me slightly. Gally's body is trembling even more than before, the tears flowing down his flushed cheeks. 

"G-Gally listen to me," Thomas utters, his shaking hands up in surrender, "you're not thinking straight. You're not. We can... help you. Just put down the gun."

Gally shakes his head. "I belong to the Maze."

"Just put down the gun..."

"We all do."

"No, GALLY-"

A gunshot slices through the air. It's as if everything happens in slow motion. It rings as I see Minho throw his spear, impaling Gally's heaving chest. He chokes out, stumbling backwards, until his legs collapse and he falls on his side in a puddle of his own blood. Dazed, I check my body to see if there's a bullet wound, but there's none. I look to Newt, who is also unscathed by the bullet. Thomas is fine, as is Minho.

But there was definitely a gunshot...

"Thomas..." a small voice croaks out. I slowly look to my right with horror. Chuck.

He falls to the floor, caught by Thomas at the last moment. His shirt is stained with blood. My breath catches in my throat. My body shakes. Thomas kneels over Chuck, who lies on the floor amongst the broken shards of glass. I crumble to my knees beside Chuck, my whole body feels out of my control.

"No, no, no," Thomas pants, shaking Chuck's shoulders, trying to keep his eyes from closing. Chuck isn't crying. He isn't showing any fear or pain; just acceptance. Just like... Alby.

"Chuck... Chuck, look at me, alright? Stay – stay with me, buddy, okay?" Thomas whispers frantically, breaking down in tears. My senses suddenly burst to life as I take in a long gasp of air, feeling a tear cascade down my cheek. Then another, and another, until I bury my face in my hands, tears slipping through my fingertips, unable to conjure up a single word for the boy who lies in front of me.

The dying boy.

"Chuck," I sob, moving closer to him, pushing his curly hair out of his eyes, "Chuck, please, get up... please..."

I break down again, unable to stop the tears from falling to the ground. They land in Chuck's blood, blending in with the warm, crimson-red liquid. It is more than crying, it is the kind of desolate sobbing that comes from a person drained of all hope, sitting on the cold ground, my whole body trembling uncontrollably.

"Thomas... Thomas..." Chuck murmurs, his throat gravelly. I lift my head to look at the boy. With a shaking hand, he takes out a small wooden carving from his pocket, and tries to put it in Thomas' hand. "Take... it, take it, Thomas..."

Thomas just shakes his head, scrunching his eyes together. "No – no, Chuck, you're gonna give it to them yourself, remember? I told you that!"

Chuck closes his eyes for a moment, my breath once again stopping, before he opens them again and looks Thomas straight in the eyes. "Thank you." He thrusts the carving into Thomas' hand. The wood is stained red.

"No, Chuck..."

"Thank you," he repeats. His breath quivers. His eyes close. And his face goes still.

Thomas' face sinks. "Chuck?" he whispers. "Chuck! Hey!" He shakes Chuck's shoulders. "Hey! Come on! Wake up!" His voice breaks. "Wake up..."

He lets out an agonised cry as he buries his face into Chuck's chest, holding onto the boy so tightly I fear he'll never be able to let go. I can't breathe. My mouth just hangs open, my eyes wide and glossy. Salty tears drip onto my lips.

Thomas' screams echo around the room, getting louder and more painful each passing second. I can't cry any more. Can't scream. I just sit there beside Chuck's lifeless body, wishing it were me instead.