Good That

Newt's POV

Breathe, I told myself. I was safe for the time. God, did I mean so much to Tommy? I bet if it was Zart or someone that was going to die, he would want to save them, but he wouldn't risk his life. Would he? The grievers clicked closer. Minho kept shouting to stay quiet. I would have to talk to Thomas later. I moved closer to Tommy, feeling his warmth. That reassuring heartbeat that steadied my own. I would gladly have stayed like that, head against his chest, his arms tight around me for ever and ever. He smelled so good, even though he was soaked in sweat. A wooden plank was pushed into the building and the other gladers either screamed or stiffened, but we all edged back. The air was tight, like when the sky expects lightning. That's funny. I don't remember any storms in the Glade, ever. "Shh," Thomas murmured, patting my head with his sort of rough-but-still-soft hand. "We're all gonna live through this night," he told me. Alby snorted. "Ha, yeah right," he said sarcastically. "Dude, calm down," Minho waved his arms, smacking someone in the face. Alby started complaining about being cooped up like a bloody chicken, waiting for slaughter, but finally shut up when the light of a beetle blade shone in his face. Well, shuck. A moment later, slime dripped through a hole in our barricade. Whir whir. Then a slam echoed through the building and I swear we all got a white hair. A big shape was outlined in the shadow of the door, and then the light settled and I saw the iconic eyebrows of Gally. "Holy shuck," Minho cursed at him, moving to close the door. Gally blocked him and started screaming at us. "They'll keep coming back and will kill one shank a night!!!" His arms flailed dramatically. Thomas rose to close the door, but was thrown aside. Gally closed the door on his own. "I WARNED YOU!" he shouted, almost gleefully. He started tearing at the remaining boards tacked in the window. "Whoa! Calm down!" Frypan looked as if he was about to hurl a spatula at Gally. The griever's tearing intensified. I squeezed Tommy's arm harder, so that my knuckles stuck out and turned white. Screams floated in the air with wood chips and the occasional nail. "The glade can't even handle me right now," Gally smirked and jumped out of the window. We all blinked, and then Minho sprang up and followed him. Bloody hell, even Alby jumped out the window. I held Tommy even tighter, but he was still strong enough to pull me towards the window. Gally was riding on the back of a griever, and I almost laughed out loud. "I need to check on the maps," Alby told us, and as no one moved to stop him, he left. All the grievers were streaming out of the glade, and Minho was behind the whole procession. We filed out of the wrecked homestead into the torn turfs and surveyed the area. A metallic thump was heard in one of the corners. Were the grievers in the map room? Ah no, it's just Alby opening the door, I reassured myself. Why did I have this gnawing sense of unease then? I had seen all the grievers leaving the premises. I let go of Tommy and edged toward the map room. I smelled something burning. Did we leave a campfire here? I saw a thin tendril of smoke curling about a short tree. Huh. The door was open by a crack, and it was really hot. The air shimmered like from a mirage. Something was wrong. I pushed the door open all the way with a shrill creak. "Bloody hell," I muttered. And that was exactly what the room was. It was definitely hot enough, and the crates and table were burned, the ashes smoldering. The worst part was Alby. He was just lying there, a pool of blood under his head, splattered on the floor, the tables, the wall. "God," I whimpered, kneeling down to touch Alby's wrist to check for a pulse. He was still alive, but not for long. "Tommy!" I yelled. Why was I calling him? He's not like a med-jack, but I liked him so maybe I did it out of needing some comfort. Thomas ran in, Minho following. I glanced at Minho in curiosity, asking him with my eyes where he'd been.  "I'll explain it later--oh, shuck," Minho started, then slung Alby over his shoulder and ran outside. "All that hard work with the maps," Thomas whispered, almost inaudible. "If there's a code, then it's gone." Almost all hope went out of me at once, but I couldn't let my Tommy see that. I took him in my arms and kissed his forehead. "We're gladers, Tommy, and we'll see this through," I promised. Teresa burst into the map room, and I glared at her. "Oh my," she exclaimed. "Good thing the maps are in the weapons room," she sighed thankfully.

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I'm so sorry for the slow updates, but my co-writer has bailed on me and I'm suffering from a writers block. :( But I haven't forgotten you! I love you all!