Newt stood up once more as he paced around the girl with uncertainty. He hesitated, then kicked her leg lightly with his boot, testing for any reaction. But her leg just flopped limply to the side, showing no signs of life.
"I think she's dead," Newt murmured, his voice tight with concern. He glanced around at the gathered Gladers, each face was a mix of worry and confusion.
Gally, who had been watching the scene with narrowed eyes, jerked his chin toward the note clutched in the girl's hand. "What about that? what's in her hand?" he asked, his tone edged with impatience.
Newt nodded, then knelt beside the girl, carefully prying the crumpled paper from her fingers.
The scrap was damp with sweat, the words barely visible in the dim light of the Box. He unfolded it slowly, his face paling as he read it. His voice came out strained as he read the message aloud to the gathered Gladers.
"She's the last one. Ever."
Newt looked up; his expression clouded with uncertainty. "What does that even mean?" he muttered, half to himself. Around him, the Gladers exchanged worried looks, the weight of the message settling in their minds.
Gally snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Great. Another cryptic note. Just like the last one, vague and useless."
Thomas seemed to be the only one out of the loop on what Gally meant as he looked around with a puzzled expression. "Last one?" he echoed, frowning.
Emma shot him a sharp look. "Don't ask," she warned, her voice low. She knew that if Gally got riled up again, it could easily turn into another shouting match.
But before anyone could respond, the girl's body jerked, her back arching off the cold floor of the Box as she suddenly sucked in a gasping breath. 
The sound filled the air like a clap of thunder, and every Glader flinched back, stumbling over one another in shock. Even Newt, who was right next to her, nearly lost his balance and grabbed the edge of the Box for support.
She sat up for a fleeting moment, her eyes wide and unseeing, her breath ragged as she gasped for air and began looking around the group frantically.
Her lips moved, forming a single desperate word: "Thomas."
And just as quickly as she had come to life, she crumpled back down, unconscious once more. The silence that followed was thick and uneasy, the Gladers all staring at Thomas, who looked as stunned and bewildered as any of them.
He gulped, his throat dry, glancing nervously around at the boys whose eyes were fixed on him like they were expecting him to have answers.
Gally's voice cut through the murmur of the crowd like a blade. "And you all still think I'm overreacting?" he demanded, his gaze sweeping over the other Keepers and Gladers.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, a growing tide of whispers and speculation that put Thomas at the center of attention. Thomas could feel their eyes boring into him, questions unspoken but loud all the same. 
He shifted uneasily, feeling the weight of their doubt settling on his shoulders.
"Should we get her out?" Minho asked, breaking through the chaos of voices. He glanced toward Newt for confirmation.
Newt, still trying to process what had just happened, managed a nod. He steadied himself, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, but let's do it carefully," he said, his tone regaining some of its usual authority. "We don't know what state she's in."
"C'mon then, help me get her up," Newt added, bracing himself as he reached down. Frypan, who had been hovering nearby, jumped into action, clambering down into the Box to help lift the girl.