“Yeah?” Newt asked, rolling his eyes. “Can’t wait to hear it.”
“It doesn’t do the Creators any good if we all die—this thing is meant to be hard, not impossible. I think we finally know for sure that the Grievers are programmed to only kill one of us each day. So somebody can sacrifice himself to save the others while we run to the Hole. I think this might be how it’s supposed to happen.”
The room went silent until the Blood House Keeper barked a loud laugh. “Excuse me?” Winston asked. “So your suggestion is that we throw some poor kid to the wolves so the rest of us can escape? This is your brilliant suggestion?”
Thomas refused to admit how bad that sounded, but an idea hit him. “Yes, Winston, I’m glad you’re so good at paying attention.” He ignored the glare that got him. “And it seems obvious who the poor kid should be.”
“Oh, yeah?” Winston asked. “Who?”
Thomas folded his arms. “Me.”
CHAPTER 52
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.”
“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, before anyone else is killed.” And before Thomas could say anything, Newt disappeared back into the Gathering.
Thomas, a little shocked at the last statement, left the Homestead and walked to an old bench near the Box and took a seat, his mind a whirlwind. He kept thinking of what Alby had said about the Flare, and what it could mean. The older boy had also mentioned burned earth and a disease. Thomas didn’t remember anything like that, but if it was all true, the world they were trying to get back to didn’t sound so good. Still—what other choice did they have? Besides the fact that the Grievers were attacking every night, the Glade had basically shut down.
Frustrated, worried, tired of his thoughts, he called out to Teresa. Can you hear me?
Yeah, she replied. Where are you?
By the Box.
I’ll come in a minute.
Thomas realized how badly he needed her company. Good. I’ll tell you the plan; I think it’s on.
What is it?
Thomas leaned back on the bench and put his right foot up on his knee, wondering how Teresa would react to what he was going to say. We gotta go through the Griever Hole. Use that code to shut the Grievers down and open a door out of here.