LIMERENCE ﹐ the maze runner.

41

The meeting erupted into a chorus of arguments. Newt very calmly stood up, walked over to Thomas and grabbed him by the arm; he pulled him toward the door. "You're leaving. Now."

Thomas was stunned. "Leaving? Why?" "Think you've said enough for one meeting. We need to talk and decide what to do -without you here." They had reached the door and Newt gave him a gentle push outside. "Wait for me by the Box. When we're done, you and I'll talk."

He started to turn around, but Thomas reached out and grabbed him. "You gotta believe me, Newt. It's the only way out of here-we can do it, I swear. We're meant to."

Newt got in his face and spoke in an angry rasp of a whisper. "Yeah, I especially loved the bit where you volunteered to get yourself killed. Clara seemed particularly happy about that. She's having a panic attack as we speak - Archie's trying to calm her down."

"What?"Thomas said. "Is she? I have to go see her -"

"No, not now. Archie knows how to help her. She used to get panic attacks after Nick, our old leader, died."

"Oh. But I was serious about escaping - I'm perfectly willing to do it." Thomas meant it, but only because of the guilt that racked him. Guilt that he'd somehow helped design the Maze. But deep down, he held on to the hope that he could fight long enough for someone to punch in the code and shut down the Grievers before they killed him. Open the door.

"Oh, really?" Newt asked, seeming irritated. "Mr. Noble himself, aren't ya?"

"I have plenty of my own reasons. In some ways it's my fault we're here in the first place." He stopped, took a breath to compose himself. "Anyway, I'm going no matter what, so you better not waste it."

Newt frowned, his eyes suddenly filled with compassion. "If you really did help design the Maze, Tommy, it's not your fault. You're a kid-you can't help what they forced you to do."

But it didn't matter what Newt said. What anyone said. Thomas bore the responsibility anyway-and it was growing heavier the more he thought about it. "I just ... feel like I need to save everyone. To redeem myself."

Newt stepped back, slowly shaking his head. "You know what's funny, Tommy?"

"What?" Thomas replied, wary.

"I actually believe you. You just don't have an ounce of lying in those eyes of yours. And I can't bloody believe I'm about to say this." He paused. "But I'm going back in there to convince those shanks we should go through the Griever Hole, just like you said. Might as well fight the Grievers rather than sit around letting them pick us off one by one." He held up a finger. "But listen to me-I don't want another buggin' word about you dying and all that heroic klunk. If we're gonna do this, we'll take our chances-all of us. You hear me?"

Thomas held his hands up, overwhelmed with relief. "Loud and clear. I was just trying to make the point that it's worth the risk. If someone's going to die every night anyway, we might as well use it to our advantage."

Newt frowned. "Well, ain't that just cheery?"

Thomas turned to walk away, but Newt called out to him. "Tommy?"

"Yeah?" He stopped, but didn't look back.

"If I can convince those shanks-and that's a big if-the best time to go would be at night. We can hope that a lot of the Grievers might be out and about in the Maze-not in that Hole of theirs."

"Good that." Thomas agreed with him-he just hoped Newt could convince the Keepers. He turned to look at Newt and nodded.

Newt smiled, a barely-there crack in his worried grimace. "We should do it tonight,