I walked over to where we had left all the pants this morning, brought a pair back over, and rummaged in Newt’s backpack. Shuck, before he had knives all over the place, now when his life could depend on it, there were no knives to be found. Finally I found one, and luckily it wasn’t the one that killed the crank in the shafts. I used it to cleanly slice the pants into two strips, each one a pant leg.

“ Newt, what I’m about to do might hurt a little.”

I could feel sweat on my back. From the running, the situation, and what I was about to do. The drops of sweat felt like pinpricks of ice, running down my spine, and I tried not to flinch.

“ can't . . . hurt much more . . . “

Newt moaned through gritted teeth.

I gave him the part of the pants that weren't cut, I think it was part of the belt loop, for Newt to bite down on. If this worked, it could save his life. If it didn’t, we wouldn’t be much worse than now.

“ Newt, can you lift your leg at all?”

I tried to keep my voice calm and steady, but my worry was growing at the same pace the blood stain was spreading along the rug. Now it really was a bloody rug. The blood was like a growing wave of dull red taking over the once white carpet. The blood spot was now at least a foot long, and was still growing. The smell of the blood was intoxicating. Metallic and rotting, making me feel more and more scared for Newt. Newt had gotten his leg about half an inch off the ground, but that was all I needed.

“ 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 “

I counted down and when I got to zero I slipped one of the pant legs under his leg, past his injury, and tied it right above the wound. I was hoping this would act as something to stop the blood. This wasn’t the part I was worried would hurt Newt though.

“ Newt, what I’m going to do might hurt you okay?”

Actually it was almost definitely going to hurt him.

“ What I need you to do is breathe, and bite down, and try really hard not to pass out okay?”

I don't think Newt even had the strength to nod anymore. I got the other pant leg, and tied it around Newt's wound. Tied it hard. Newt was sweating now, white as a ghost, his teeth clamped so hard on the belt piece, I was convinced it would shred beneath his teeth.. I was pretty sure if he went to sleep now, he wouldn't die.

“ Now, you can go to sleep.”

Newt immediately slumped to the floor, unconscious. Okay, okay, okay, okay. Okay. I tried to talk myself through the situation. Newt got stabbed by a crank. We are separated from the others. We have no medical supplies or training. Newt can’t walk or go anywhere any time soon. We have a limited supply of food. This is fine. It's fine, it’s fine, it's fine, it’s fine. Except for one thing. It wasn't fine. Not at all. Then the reality of the circumstances hit me. Newt could very easily die. Right here, right now. With that thought, I ran to take his pulse. Not dead. Not yet.

Not yet.

That thought filled my head as I slumped to the ground sobbing. The past hour, I had been fighting off crying, and now it all came out. I cried for almost a half an hour, then I realized something. Something I should have known all along.

I was Newt’s only hope.

Me.

Alone.

By myself.

Newt would wake up soon, and I couldn’t just sit here crying. I got up, and remembered the open door, and went to close it, all the while thinking

Newt needs you.

When I got back upstairs, Newt was struggling to sit up.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“ Newt, what are you doing?”

“ Have to . . . keep going “

“ Do you see yourself Newt? Remember we agreed to let each other help, and you my friend need help.”

I hope he didn’t notice my red eyes.

“ Ok . . . Min, can you stay with me?”

“ Of course, Newt, of course.”

I walked over, and sat down next to Newt, squeezing his arm. We fell asleep there together. Me squeezing Newt's arm, and being with him. When I woke up, Newt was slumped on my shoulder. My first thought was

Oh god, he’s dead.

But after I regained my senses, I realized Newt was warm. Too warm. Way too warm. He was burning up. How? Then I thought of two reasons, the first was he has the flare. The second was that he had an infection. desperately hoping it was the second one, I walked over to our dwindling pants supply, and cut another one up. This time, I used one of our water bottles to soak a pant leg, and drape it over Newt's forehead. When I did so, Newt’s eyes fluttered open.

“ Min, I-I’m so cold.”

His fever.

“ It’s okay Newt. I’ll help you.”

The only thing here was the rug and the pants. Maybe if I moved him to the sun . . .

“ I’m going to pick you up okay?”

“ O-okay”

I scooped him up like a baby. Was it just me, or was he really, really light? His whole body was so hot that it was almost painful to touch. It felt like black asphalt after it had been sitting in the sun all day. Maybe I could make him eat later. At least he could talk a little. I laid him out in the sun from the hole, and covered him in the not bloody part of the rug, and the pants. Then I took off my jacket, and wrapped it around him. I remember less than twenty four hours ago, he was the one to offer me his jacket. Now I really wish I could have frozen time this morning.

“ Min,”

I looked up. Newt was trying to tell me something.

“ Min.”

“ What?”

“ Am. . . am I going to die?”

“ Of course not Newt, of course not.”

This wasn’t like Newt. His words broke my heart.

Am I going to die?

Just by looking at Newt, you could tell he didn't have much time left. He was sweating and shivering, his face a pale gray, his eyes half closed.

“ Newt, I promise you won't die. I promise, I promise, I promise.”

I promise

I whispered those words until he was asleep. I tried to stand up, but the world tilted, and I grabbed onto a wall. I had to drink something. This was the first sign of dehydration, and I hadn’t drinken since in the shafts. That was a couple days ago. A couple days ago. Just a week ago, we had escaped the maze, acting like the happiest shanks alive, and now Newt was dying.

“Okay, Minho.”

I whispered to myself.

“Right now, you will drink, and eat a little. When Newt wakes up you’ll have him drink and eat a little.”

I stumbled over to the bags I had hastily discarded in a corner, and took out a soda, being careful not to open it too close to my face. After I drank a bottle of soda, and had a chocolate bar, I decided to explore the house. Maybe by some miracle, there was medical supplies, or a book titled ‘ how to treat stab wounds for dummies’

I wish.

I walked down the moldy old stairs, and into the entryway. There were three rusted doors from the entryway, and I tried the one to my right. Inside, I found a walk-in closet. The walls were made of cracked cement, the floor a gray slab of concrete. I looked around the empty closet, feeling a sense of disappointment wash over me. There were no medical supplies or anything remotely useful. Just dusty cobwebs that looked like they hadn't been disturbed in years.

I sighed and closed the door.

Next, I tried the door in the middle of the entryway. I found a large room with wood slab flooring covered in mildew. This must be the living room Newt had checked. There were a couple of cabinets, all empty except one. It had a note.

The note said

RUN.

Nope. Not getting into that. And, I wouldn’t tell Newt about it. Probably some prankster or something someone wrote during the sun flares happened.

Or the worst possibility, WICKED had somehow planted the note.

WICKED. They make me sick. Probably everything that happened was because of WICKED. I bet that the crank that hurt Newt wasn’t even a crank, just some employee of WICKED. Actually, the worst possibility was probably that the note was true. Trying to forget the note, I went into the last door. The hinges creaked as I opened it. It was a once-modern kitchen, but was now ruined, the dirty cream colored paint chipped off the cabinets. Where ovens or microwaves must have been, were giant empty spaces, and frayed cords, like someone had ripped them out, which they probably had. The kitchen was dark, with no windows, and I had a sense of unease, as if someone was watching me. Remembering Newt, I quickly checked all the cabinets, and I found a half opened box of pain medicine, three years past the expiration date. I didn’t know much about if that would affect them or not, but they were better than nothing. I walked back up the stairs, treading lightly, trying not to make the stairs squeak. Newt was still sleeping, and I set the pain meds down, and climbed under the rug with Newt, careful not to hurt him. His body was radiating heat, and I could feel the heat rolling off of him in waves. Newt opened his eyes then, and weakly smiled at me, and I smiled back. I grabbed his warm hand and squeezed. He squeezed back.