Newt froze. He slowly stood up from laying on the floor and crept to the backroom. He thought about what to do, trying to clear his mind. What were Denver Guards doing? What were they doing to do? More importantly, what was Newt doing to do. First, he wanted to hide away and hope they would just leave even though he wanted someone to stop the Flare. But it wasn't supposed to be some guards; it was supposed to be Thomas. Then Newt wanted to claw the guards' eyes out, let the inner-Crank lose on them. But lastly, for the desperation, he wanted to open the door and let them in for a warm cup of tea. Maybe they had weapons.
He went for the first option and hid under the bed in the back room.
"Open up!" one of them yelled from outside the Berg. Newt felt like they were inside his skull, though. It was pounding. "We will use force!"
Go away, go away, go away, Newt thought. Leave me be.
But they didn't listen to his plead of a thought. The guards pounded on the door until the metal hinges broke off and the door flung inward, crashing on the floor. Newt saw three different pairs of feet. They started to sweep the Berg, making their way from the front to the back, so Newt's hiding spot would be one of the last places they looked. From what Newt could see, all three of the guards had red shirts on. There was a mask on each of their face, gun in each of their holster. And then there was another weapon. Something Newt had never seen before.
"Maybe it's empty and people are in Denver for a day or two," one of the male guards suggested.
They were halfway done looking through the Berg. Newt had to concentrate on keeping his breathing steady and quiet.
"Maybe some Munie is hiding in here, keeping guard," a female replied. "I did hear a voice when we broke the door down."
A voice? Newt was getting confused a bit. No one said anything but them when they were breaking the door down. It was only thoughts. But speaking of voices, these guards didn't sound old. They sounded around the same age as Newt did. Maybe they were captured immunes, too, Newt imagined.
They continued to chat; there was no point for the guards to be quiet when they all ready announced they were coming in. If another person who owned the Berg was inside instead of Newt, and had a weapon, he would have shot the guards all ready. So they knew they were safe. Basically. Newt on the other hand, he had to be silent and hope they didn't notice him because they did have weapons. But not even his breath - that was starting to get heavy - could make a noise. He covered his ears, and closed his eyes. Then Newt bit his tongue. Don't flare out, he thought, don't go crazy now.
Newt was startled when a something blocked the light. He opened his eyes and moved his hands away from his ears. What is out there now? he thought. There was no noises.
"Well, hello, there!" It was the female. She was bending over and looking at Newt. She then reached a hand under the bed and grabbed Newt's wrist.
He wiggled and tried to break the grip. He also thought about biting her hand to let himself get free. But he didn't. And now his inevitable fate was coming true; he was getting out from under the bed. Where, and what would happen next? He didn't know.
"Well, I'll be damned!" one of the male guards said, running over to pull Newt out. "Sherri, you were right."
Newt was panicking. Did I say that out loud? he thought in his battered mind, About flaring out? He was so confused and scared. His dreaded future was in the hands on these guards with weapons.
"Yes, yes ya did, ya Brit," the second male said, standing behind the other two guards. He was watching everything play out. "Now get your butt out here. Let's talk."
He knew he was done for at that moment. He couldn't even conceal a thought. Newt got dragged out from under the bed. He sat in the center of the Berg's floor, curled in a ball, while the three Denver guards stood in front of him. Blocking the door. Newt was cold, shivering almost. Maybe it was the Flare. Maybe it was because he was terrified of what would happen next. Where would the bullet go? Where would he go? What would his friends think once they returned?
"Don't move," the second male guard said, pulling his gun out from the holster, "or I shoot."
At that moment, Newt had the craving to lung his self at the guard. He wondered why it mattered if he was shot. He knew he was all ready dying. Instead, he stayed still. The female guard - Sherri? - took the special device out and walked forward. She kneeled down and put it in front of Newt's face.
"It won't hurt," she said, not saying what it was exactly.
The device was very close to touching Newt's infected skin. He looked through eye holes and saw flashing colors. White, green, purple, and so on. A puff of air went off and he felt a prick in his neck. Now he knew what the device was for, what it did. Newt wanted to flinch and kick away, but he didn't want his blood to be on the floor when his friends finally came back either. If he was still here, alive, when they came back.
Sherri pulled the device away and jammed it back in its holster. She then turned to her fellow guards. "Nope," she mumbled, fixing the mask on her face.
Nope? What did nope mean? Newt was searching for something, anything that would make sense. Nope, he wasn't dead? Nope, he wasn't from Denver? Nope, he doesn't have anyone else in the Berg? Nope, he wasn't immune? That, he sadly knew all ready. So he asked: "What's wrong?" His voice was a little scratchy. He could tell it caught his three visitors off their guard, too.
"Well," the male without the gun said, "we are taking you away." He said it as if it happens all the time. Taking you away.
To where the Cranks live, Newt imagined. He knew he couldn't just stay in the city and infect people, that was why he was in the Berg still in the first place. "Away? Where?" Newt asked anyways. Just to make sure that he was still thinking clearly.
"Where people like you belong."
Those words hit Newt like a wall. He drifted off for a second, thinking about...everything. There was no turning back. No cure. He felt like he just got stabbed in the heart. Newt was a Crank, there was no denying that. He knew that, he'd accepted that, too, but being put in a place with other Cranks? No. That scared him to the bones. Newt was so worried that he jumped when both male guards grabbed his upper arm and started to pull him out of the Berg. His feet stumbled under him; he was more in the air than on his own two feet. Sherri stood at the door, an eager look on her face. "Wait!" Newt yelled, trying to break free. "My friends!"
"Your friends?" Sherri repeated. She shared a look with the other two guards. A look like, This guy is all ready crazy.
"For when they come back," Newt said. "C-can I write something?"
"You mean there is more of you in Denver?" one of the male's asked.
"They are immune. Let me go please."
"Munies," Sherri said. "Guys, let this fellow go. He is friends with important people. Have some manners."
Both let go and Newt fell to the floor. He stood and ran to the back room. Once he returned, there was a paper and marker in his hand. Leaning on the window, Newt wrote a goodbye note with 23 words. Simple, but with meaning. He placed it on the couch and walked to Sherri at the door. "Okay," he whispered.
As Newt followed Sherri - with the two guards behind him; he knew one had a gun pointed at his back - his blood started to boil. He swore, from that moment on, it was Thomas's fault. He didn't listen, didn't read the note. So now, this is on him. Newt wouldn't even be going to this horrid place if it wasn't for Thomas. If Newt ever saw him again, oh, he would get it.
The small group walked along the side of the wall, cutting of Denver from the rest of the world until they made it to a small garage like building. Eventually, the four made it to a van. It was a simple, white van. Nothing much to it. Sherri walked to the back and opened it. "Get in," she said.
Newt wanted so badly to run up to her and slam her head into the van side. Thomas was making him sicker. Thomas was making this worse. Newt hadn't taken a step, so one of the male guards pushed him forward. "Go," they said.
Newt took a step forward and hoped into the back of the van. Sherri slammed the trunk closed and jumped into the front seat. "I'll take it from here, boys," she said and the male guards when back to the city. She started the van and pulled out. "So how many friends do you have in the city?"
"I don't wanna talk about it."
"Are they all immune?" she pushed.
"I don't wanna shucking talk about it!"
"Okay, geez. No need to be cranky," Sherri said.
There was nothing holding Newt down; no seatbelts, nothing. He bounced in the van and ending up hitting the side a few times. He wanted to yell at Sherri to get some driving skills. He also wanted to kick her. But there was bars blocking him from getting into the front part of the van. He wanted Thomas to appear so Newt could give him a piece of his mind. Did he actually want that? Newt didn't, but the Flare did.
He lost track of time in the back of the van. It must have been around an hour before Sherri stopped the van. They were in a clearing along the beginnings of a forest that stretched up the surprisingly green mountainside. About half of the trees were dead, but the other half looked as if they'd just begun to recover from years of massive heat spells. And once they did recover, the Earth would be uninhabited, Newt thought, everyone'd be dying or all ready dead from the bloody Flare.
Sherri opened her door. "I'm coming back there," she announced. "Try anything, and I shoot you."
Newt moved to the edge of the trunk, wanting to get out of the back of the van.
Sherri opened the back and Newt jumped out. "Walk forward," she said. "To the wooden wall."
Newt nodded and took a good look at the wall surrounding what had to be the Crank Palace just a few feet away as he started to limp forward. It was made of thick planks of wood. The closest gate was just beginning to open, and two people appeared, both of them holding huge Launchers. They looked exhausted, but wearily they took a defensive stance and aimed their weapons—they'd obviously heard or seen the van's approach.
"Another one, huh?" one said. He had black hair and a mustache and was taller than his partner by a few good inches.
"Yep," Sherri replied. "And be careful; this one can get feisty sometimes."
"Point taken. We'll take him now," the shorter one answered.
Sherri nodded and Newt was handed off to the two Crank Palace guard. "Welcome to your new home," the tall one said. He opened his arms - Launcher still being held - like he was greeting Newt into the Palace. "This way."
Newt walked with one of the guards - the shorter one - as he led Newt to his new home. After they entered the gate, Newt saw right away that the place was filthy. Horrible, smelly. Very poor living conditions. Most windows in the buildings they passed were broken, and the guard explained how it had been a huge mistake to allow glass in the towns at all. It had become the number one source of weaponry. Trash littered the streets, and though he hadn't spotted any people yet, Newt felt like he was being watched from the shadows. In the distance he heard someone yell a few obscenities; then a scream came from another direction, putting Newt even more on edge.
He knew he needed protection. All the decent homes looked taken, though. And Newt didn't want to be in the center of this place without anything. "Shut up," he said, and the guard looked startled. This guy was really getting on Newt's nerves. He wouldn't stop talking about things.
The pair was two rings away from the Central Zone - whatever that meant. Newt hadn't been listening to the guard at all. He just followed, thinking of ways to take the Launcher. They turned a corner and continued to walk. Newt was getting impatience. He wanted the Launcher. Thank God only one guard came to escort Newt away to wherever. As they made their way deeper into the compound, the buildings were shabbier, the streets dirtier.
"I'm taking you to the Central Zone," the guard said. "You can walk 'round wherever you want then."
Newt nodded then made his move. He turned and faced the guard, then dove for his knees. They both slammed to the ground. The guard pulled the trigger of the Launcher and a grenade shot to the way left. Newt pushed the guard so he could see his face, then grabbed the Launcher and pulled. It easily slipped off and Newt fell backwards, landing on his back. He pointed the Launcher at his escort and stood up. "Leave," he said. "Not givin' you a second chance. Run."
"Fine by me!" he replied, standing up and taking off.
Newt watched the man slowly dip from view. Newt then, with the Launcher tightly gripped in his hands, yelled out: "If anyone dares to come near me, I will shoot you!" He saw some Cranks turn their heads and look at him and decided to keep walking forward. He walked through the arch and entered the Central Zone.
This took a while to write up. Plenty of times, I had to go back into a full online version of The Death Cure to see how the Crank Palace was described. It said that Newt had a Launcher, so now he has one. Anyways, hope you enjoyed... Review, favorite, follow.