The next thirty minutes were an eruption of mass confusion.
Though there had been no discernible change in the light since the sun and blue sky hadn't appeared that morning, it still felt like a darkness spread over the Glade. As Newt and Alby gathered the Keepers and put them in charge of making assignments and getting their groups inside the Homestead within the hour, Thomas felt like nothing more than a spectator, not sure how he could help.
The Builders—without their leader, Gally, who was still missing— were ordered to put up barricades at each open Door; they obeyed, although Thomas knew there wasn't enough time and there weren't materials to do much good. It almost seemed to him as if the Keepers wanted people busy, wanted to delay the inevitable panic attacks. Thomas helped as the Builders gathered every loose item they could find and piled them in the gaps, nailing things together as best they could. It looked ugly and pathetic and scared him to death—no way that'd keep the Grievers out.
As Thomas worked, he caught glimpses of the other jobs going on across the Glade.
Every flashlight in the compound was gathered and distributed to as many people as possible; Newt said he planned for everyone to sleep in the Homestead that night, and that they'd kill the lights, except for emergencies. Frypan's task was to take all the nonperishable food out of the kitchen and store it in the Homestead, in case they got trapped there—Thomas could only imagine how horrible that'd be. Others were gathering supplies and tools; Thomas saw Minho carrying weapons from the basement to the main building. Alby had made it clear they could take no chances: they'd make the Homestead their fortress, and must do whatever it took to defend it.
Thomas finally snuck away from the Builders and helped Minho, carrying up boxes of knives and barbwire-wrapped clubs. Then Minho said he had a special assignment from Newt, and more or less told Thomas to get lost, refusing to answer any of his questions.
This hurt Thomas's feelings, but he left anyway, really wanting to talk to Newt about something else. He finally found him, crossing the Glade on his way to the Blood House.
"Newt!" he called out, running to catch up. "You have to listen to me."
Newt stopped so suddenly Thomas almost ran into him. The older boy turned to give Thomas such an annoyed look he thought twice about saying anything.
"Make it quick," Newt said.
Thomas almost balked, not sure how to say what he was thinking.
You've gotta let the girl go. Teresa." He knew that she could only help, that she might still remember something valuable.
"Ah, glad to know you guys are buddies now." Newt started walking off. "Don't waste my time, Tommy."
Thomas grabbed his arm. "Listen to me! There's something about her—I think she and I were sent here to help end this whole thing."
"Yeah—end it by lettin' the bloody Grievers waltz in here and kill us? I've heard some sucky plans in my day, Greenie, but that's got 'em all beat."
Thomas groaned, wanting Newt to know how frustrated he felt. "No, I don't think that's what it means—the walls not closing."
Newt folded his arms; he looked exasperated. "Greenie, what're you yappin' about?"
Ever since Thomas had seen the words on the wall of the Maze— world in catastrophe, killzone experiment department—he'd been thinking about them. He knew if there was anyone who would believe him, it would be Newt. "I think ... I think we're here as part of some weird experiment, or test, or something like that. But it's supposed to end somehow. We can't live here forever—whoever sent us here wants it to end. One way or another." Thomas was relieved to get it off his chest.
Newt rubbed his eyes. "And that's supposed to convince me that everything's jolly—that I should let the girl go? Because she came and everything is suddenly do-or-die?"
"No, you're missing the point. I don't think she has anything to do with us being here. She's just a pawn—they sent her here as our last tool or hint or whatever to help us get out." Thomas took a deep breath. "And I think they sent me, too. Just because she was the trigger for the Ending doesn't make her bad."
Newt looked toward the Slammer. "You know what, I don't buggin' care right now. She can handle one night in there—if anything, she'll be safer than us."
Thomas nodded, sensing a compromise. "Okay, we get through tonight, somehow. Tomorrow, when we have a whole day of safety, we can figure out what to do with her. Figure out what we're supposed to do."
Newt snorted. "Tommy, what's gonna make tomorrow any different? It's been two bloody years, ya know."
Thomas had an overwhelming feeling that all of these changes were a spur, a catalyst for the endgame. "Because now we have to solve it. We'll be forced to. We can't live that way anymore, day to day, thinking that what matters most is getting back to the Glade before the Doors close, snug and safe."
Newt thought a minute as he stood there, the bustle of the Glader preparations surrounding both of them. "Dig deeper. Stay out there while the walls move."
"Exactly," Thomas said. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. And maybe we could barricade or blow up the entrance to the Griever Hole. Buy time to analyze the Maze."
"Alby's the one who won't let the girl out," Newt said with a nod toward the Homestead. "That guy's not too high on you two shanks. But right now we just gotta slim ourselves and get to the wake-up."
Thomas nodded. "We can fight 'em off."
"Done it before, haven't you, Hercules?" Without smiling or even waiting for a response, Newt walked away, yelling at people to finish up and get inside the Homestead.
Thomas was happy with the conversation—it had gone about as well as he could've possibly hoped. He decided to hurry and talk to Teresa before it was too late. As he sprinted for the Slammer on the back side of the Homestead, he watched as Gladers started moving inside, most of them with arms full of one thing or another.
Thomas pulled up outside the small jail and caught his breath. "Teresa?" he finally asked through the barred window of the lightless cell.
Her face popped up on the other side, startling him.
He let out a small yelp before he could stop it—it took him a second to recover his wits. "You can be downright spooky, ya know?"
"That's very sweet," she said. "Thanks." In the darkness her blue eyes seemed to glow like a cat's.
"You're welcome," he answered, ignoring her sarcasm. "Listen, I've been thinking." He paused to gather his thoughts.
"More than I can say for that Alby schmuck," she muttered.
Thomas agreed, but was anxious to say what he'd come to say. "There's gotta be a way out of this place—we just have to push it, stay out in the Maze longer. And what you wrote on your arm, and what you said about a code, it all has to mean something, right?" It has to, he thought. He couldn't help feeling some hope.
"Yeah, I've been thinking the same thing. But first—can't you get me out of here?" Her hands appeared, gripping the bars of the window. Thomas felt the ridiculous urge to reach out and touch them.
"Well, Newt said maybe tomorrow." Thomas was just glad he'd gotten that much of a concession. "You'll have to make it through the night in there. It might actually be the safest place in the Glade."
"Thanks for asking him. Should be fun sleeping on this cold floor." She motioned behind her with a thumb. "Though I guess a Griever Can't squeeze through this window, so I'll be happy, right?"
The mention of Grievers surprised him—he didn't remember talking about them to her yet. "Teresa, are you sure you've forgotten everything?"