Chapter 2: Newt's Arrival

At first, Newt wasn't even sure the light was real. He craned his neck upwards staring at it; just a mere pinprick in the darkness but as the light became closer and grew in size, the box sped up its ascent. Newt could feel the box gaining speed, climbing more frantically as if the light might disappear if they slowed down even the tiniest bit. He groped for something to hold onto in the darkness. His hands found a wooden crate and he grasped onto it with all his strength, which he realized wasn't much. His initial fear of waking up in the dark moving box had left him weak and wobbly. The sounds of grating metal became unbearable and, every so often, he saw little red sparks ignite as the box raced skyward. The box was getting close to the top; only a few hundred feet away now. Almost there …3…2…1

At the last second, he let go of the crate and covered his face in his hands, squatting into a tight ball to protect his organs. If this infernal box didn't kill him, it certainly seemed bloody determined to beat him up as much as possible before it reached the top.

The box came to a sudden and violent halt, throwing Newt to the floor. His body bounced off the cool metal and he grunted in pain, his shoulder instantly throbbing. Massive doors overhead squealed open and Newt was hit with by warm rays of sunlight. Instinctively, he brought his hands to his eyes and cursed under his breath. What the bloody hell was going on here? The intense sunlight was so starkly opposite from the blackness he'd woken to that he'd realized it took him a full two minutes before he pulled his hands away. When he finally did though, he was surprised by the sight.

Three rough looking boys stared down at him. None of them were smiling but they weren't necessarily scowling either. They simply looked at him with odd curiosity. They were all wearing versions of the same outfit; blue, black, or white tee-shirts and beige cargo pants. One boy had a large bandage covering his right elbow and another had thin wire-rimmed glasses perched on the edge of his nose. None of them looked to be related or even friends, for that matter. The first boy, who looked the oldest although not by much, was a Hispanic kid with a strong build and short, wiry hair that curled into coils. The second boy had dark, chocolate skin and just the slightest bit of stubble growing on his chin. Finally, the third boy was Caucasian, like Newt was himself, but sported a dark tan. He had a large nose which resembled a melon and looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else the whole entire world than standing here staring at Newt.

A few seconds passed and Newt coughed just to break the silence. Was he supposed to do something? Say something?

"Well, you got anything to say for yourself Greenie?" said the Hispanic boy, raising an eyebrow.

"I … Um" Newt stammered.

He got the feeling as though these boys were looking to him for some sort of explanation. "I … Uh … I don't know! I can't remember! Why can't I remember? Who are you guys?"

"Whoa!" said the Caucasian kid. He looked surprised, like Newt had just grown horns or something. He motioned at the other two boys. "You hear his voice? Hey Greenbean, what's wrong with your voice?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me" he said unkindly. "Why are you talking so funny? You forget how many letters were in the alphabet?" He waited for Newt to respond. When Newt didn't, assuming the question was rhetorical, he said, "There's twenty-six, by the way … twenty-six letters in the alphabet, you moron" adding in that last unnecessary insult under his breath. "Where are you from? Who sent you here?" The boy started berating him with questions although, to Newt, they sounded more like accusations. He panicked a little knowing that he couldn't answer this boy's questions; any of them. His mind was still a terrible, foggy mess. If 'melon nose' didn't get the answers he was looking for would he throw Newt back down the box hole? Sure … he could already tell 'melon nose' was an absolute prick, but was he enough of a prick to constitute potential murder?

"Gally, knock it off! He doesn't know anything. No reason to traumatize the kid any more than necessary. You know what it's like coming out of that box" the Hispanic boy said again in a disapproving tone. Newt had the impression that this was the guy running the joint. He straightened out his glasses and tried to smile at Newt. The smile didn't come off as genuine but it beat staring at Gally's accusatory expression.

The boy pointed at himself and said "I'm George, this is Alby" he pointed to the dark skinned boy "and that's Gally" he finished, pointing at Gally who sneered in Newt's direction. "Sorry we have to meet like this but that's life … and ain't life just a bitch."

"Now, let's get you out of that God-forsaken box."