CHAPTER 19:
"I declare that this bloody Gathering has officially started" Newt yelled from the Leader's position, his face twisted into an expression of extreme distaste as the boys quietened down. It was an exclusive meeting- only the Keepers- who were now looking over Adira's position with vague interest, like vultures glancing over picked, clean bones.
She breathed in shakily, pressing her lips tightly together as Newt took over her normal station, his discomfort hidden completely as he glared at Frank. Speaking of the devil himself, the boy looked fully unconcerned with the situation, his yellow teeth bared in a smile at Billy who only returned a critical glower.
"Right. First thing's first, let's get this straight. This shank here assaulted our Leader last night-"
"How do you know that?" Billy asked instantly, turning towards Adira, "She could be lying."
"Because I saw, Billy." Newt said, in a duh tone. "And she's the last person that would lie in this shuck Glade, have some respect."
"What happened?" Calvin asked, almost tentatively.
"She was assaulted." Newt retorted blandly, before finally giving in to the public consensus; before the Gathering he'd told Adira that he'd stop them questioning her at all costs but she'd brushed him, saying he could try but no matter what, they'd demand her to speak up.
"Go on, Ad, tell 'em."
She didn't want to stand in front of them, but she had to. So she did.
"I was sleeping." she started, the room painfully quiet, "Then I woke up cos I felt hands on my mouth, keeping me from screaming and all. Anyway, it was Frank. Told me to shut up, otherwise he'd hurt me bad and…and he touched where he shouldn't have. He'd got a knife on him too, threatened with it."
Billy's lip curled involuntarily as his eye caught Frank's, and Adira's heart leapt at the pure disgust painted on the Keeper's face. Maybe they'd believe her. To be fair, most of the boys in the room had already pegged Frank as the "bad type", keeping away from him and watching him closely for shady behaviour that could land him a decent sentence in the Slammer.
"She's lying!" Frank yelled, as if Minho didn't catch him red-handed, "She's just making things up!"
"Keep your klunk to yourself, shank." Minho barked from his corner of the Gathering room. He normally always stayed in the shadows of Gatherings only ever speaking when he was needed to put a boy in his place or to pass his vote. Otherwise, he mightn't have been there at all.
"Minho." Newt said, his eyebrow raised, "Care to share?"
"Listen to the Leader." Minho spat, coming out from the darkness so his angry face was more accessible to the Keepers, "She ain't making none of that klunk up. I saw with my own eyes and if you want more proof than the word of the person who keeps you alive, then look at the bruises on her!"
Adira wanted to shy away from the searching eyes of the boys, hating the scrutiny administered on her body. But her eyes locked with Minho's, the angry understanding in them calming her. He only gave a slight tilt of his head upwards and her whole demeanour changed; shoulders back, head high, arms straight by her side. He was challenging her, his head tilted in a show of competition and there was no way she was giving in.
"Can I see?" Clint asked, his voice professional, not leaving much room for argument. Yet he still waited for her consent and the simple action warmed her heart.
"Yes."
In an instant, he checked her bruises, nodding to himself occasionally, whispering curses under his breath. He seemed to gauge her discomfort effectively, backing away after a relatively minimal check. As he came up, his words lingered in her ears.
"He's a right shuckface, Ad. I believe you. Even before I checked your injuries."
Clint had always been a good friend, but for him to declare his faith and trust in her so openly; this was love. Friendship. Strength in the face of the adversary.
"Finger marks all over her neck, chest, etc. And there's a knife mark against her throat too." Clint said sharply, his steely grey eyes challenging anyone to disagree with his expertise.
"I don't know what we're sitting here arguing for." Frypan bustled, "She ain't lying. And I ain't backing her up cos she's the Leader, but because Frank is a Slopper to the shuck heart; I mean the shank was always shady around her. Don't tell me none of you didn't see him being weird. 'Sides, I've known her long enough and the girl doesn't lie, honest to the bone. I've said my piece, but I hope y'all understand that keeping scum in here ain't what we are as Gladers. He broke the rules- he has to pay. I vote for Banishment and your breakfast's on that."
Gratitude swelled in her chest, but it was squashed down by another sceptic- Billy. She'd expected it, but most of the boys looked ready to sentence Frank to death anyway. She didn't know how to feel about the joy of exterminating her assaulter.
"Look, he did wrong, I get it. But a Banishment? Sure, he needs a punishment but a Banishment going a bit far. All that for a girl?"
"He broke the rules." Minho snorted, "So why don't you get a taste of some of your own medicine. You were all for Banishing Gally for breaking the rules. Same here, Billy."
Billy gave Frank a disgusted look before shrugging uncaringly, "Fine, do you what you want. He's a shuckface anyway."
If Adira had been a better person, she'd have felt sorrow for the way Frank's life had been dismissed so cruelly. But she was not a better person and she fully intended to get rid of him.
Newt's voice broke the eerie acceptance of the Gathering, "How many votes for Banishment?"
There was a slight pause while he counted, but she could already see Frank's fate, "Banishment it is!"
A surge of joy lifted her head, straight into Minho's triumphant smirk from across the room. He'd have thrown him in the Maze anyway, she realised, as he grinned once, before disappearing into the darkness again. He'd have thrown him in for her. The fuzziness in her chest only increased.
She liked it.
"There is no way in hell I'm not running tomorrow." Adira said lowly, massaging her temples fiercely as they- Minho, Newt and her- emerged from the Gathering hall. It had been an excruciating experience- embarrassment, insecurity, shame were just some of the things she felt when she had recounted the traumatic events of the night before. Only Bill had been sceptical about her claim- she had truly expected most of the boys to dismiss her statements as folly- but even the Keeper of the Baggers couldn't deny the bruises that littered her body.
Of course, only the Keepers had been present at the Gathering and they were (mostly) all people who knew her well enough and kept to the rules themselves. She doubted the other boys would consider her assault true.
Minho shrugged, breaking her out of her trail of thought, "Fine by me."
Newt frowned, objecting, "Shouldn't you rest? I mean, you did just get beaten up."
Adira rolled her eyes, ignoring the pinpricks of fear when a boy gazed in her direction, "I'm fine Newt, I swear on my shuck life, I'm fine. Good that?"
She'd been issuing her health status to Newt and Minho approximately every five minutes and it was getting old and fast. Not that she didn't appreciate their concern- far from it, actually, but being asked if you were okay after an almost rape wasn't particularly nice. Especially since it did hurt and the mental trauma was even worse- being reminded of it, decidedly did not help.
"Okay, fine. I won't bloody ask anymore." Newt huffed and Adira thought he was angry until she turned around and saw his exasperated grin.
"Love you, Newton." she said, before wincing at the open show of affection. Would anyone take that as an invite? Arden had heard, giving her a perplexed look, before stalking off to the Kitchens. Would he come after her, in the middle of the night? She sighed mentally, hating her paranoia- it had taken her a long time to get comfortable with saying affectionate and emotional phrases to people and even then it was mostly only limited to Newt. Now it was all ruined.
"She says she's fine." Minho uttered to Newt, scrutinising Adira's back, immediately noticing the tenseness in her shoulders. "I'd say she's fine, physically but…"
"Not so much emotionally." Newt finished off grimly, "So what, you're setting a task for me or something?"
Minho mock glared at the second in command, "You know what I mean, Newt, sheesh."
Newt pursed his lips, holding in a grin before replying, "I'll talk to her. Of course, I bloody will, you're a crazy shank if you thought I wouldn't."
Minho nodded, "Thanks dude. You're better with…words that I am."
Newt smiled, slapping the Runner's back flippantly, "We know I'm better with words, Min, we all know. Your shuck vocabulary's just a bunch of swears and gobbledegook- you ain't hiding nothing from any of us, mate."
Minho scowled menacingly, "You take that back you shuckface."
"Who are you calling a shuckface?" Newt cried, dramatically putting a hand to his heart as if in pain, "I speak the truth!"
Minho grinned roguishly, before practically pouncing on the boy for a scuffle- they used to fight often, but since Newt's leg had been in a questionable condition, they'd laid off with the extra movement. Still, Minho went easy on the blonde, considering it was only that morning that Clint had reluctantly let Newt walk without the support of his crutch.
"Boys!" Adira called out from in front of them, her unusually pale face pinched in a frown that quickly dissolved when she caught sight of their light expressions.
"Thought you were fighting for real." she informed them sheepishly.
"S'all good." Newt said, his eyes bright, "It's been a while since we've done that."
Adira scrunched her nose, in a show of confused disgust, "I don't understand the appeal, but alright."
"Shhh, Ad! Your girl is showing!" Minho hissed in her ear, making her jump back in fright. She glared at him.
"You-"
Newt, already sensing the impending argument, interrupted hastily, "Dinner, good that?"
Minho turned his head to Newt, like a dog would to an owner, trotting up to the blonde, hearts in his eyes at the mention of food.
"Not hungry." Adira declined abruptly, "I'll go in, now."
"You sure?" Newt asked, "We can send something up if you want?"
Adira sent him a flat look, "Not hungry, N."
"Fine-"
The Box's alarm rang like a siren, squealing loudly and cutting through the air like a knife. The Greenie.
Newt's face dulled into the usual mask of sympathy, friendliness and understanding, so he could invite the poor boy out into the Glade- somehow, it was always Newt who ended up greeting the poor shanks. She figured it was for the best anyway. He was the only one who didn't lose their klunk almost immediately.
"There's the dinner plans cut short." Newt muttered, watching as Minho shrugged dismissively and walked up to the Kitchens anyway.
"You can go on, Newt."
"Nope. It's practically a shuck tradition for me to bring the Greenie out."
Adira smiled at his back, following the tall blonde to the already growing congregation of boys. She grimaced as someone's arm brushed against her shoulder, winced as a finger whipped past her waist- clearly, she'd now developed an aversion for any kind of unexpected contact. Great.
Newt turned back, grinning at her smaller figure fighting through the rowdy mess of boys, laughing as her dishevelled hair and pissed expression came into view. He didn't get to comment, however, as Gally was already throwing the lid backwards and the small, curled up figure of a boy was clearly visible in the light of the sun. He was shucking sleeping.
Newt face palmed, before jumping in with a half-hearted warning for the Greenie, ignoring the dismayed cries of the boys. She didn't blame them to be honest- the drama they received in the Glade was usually either one of Minho's dramatic entrances just before the doors closed or…death. Greenies' crying and screaming when they were, in fact, not in immediate danger, seemed downright hysterical to the boys. They'd been through the same thing after all- and really, it was kind of funny.
"Right, scram." she yelled and the boys dispersed willingly, their mutters of annoyance fading as they disappeared.
Newt was whispering something into the Greenie's ear, talking soft and slow as he coaxed the kid out of the Box. He was small, with black hair and vibrant green eyes and a small build, his face still dull with the effects of sleep.
Almost comically, his eyes widened as they landed on her.
"Adira, Leader of this shuck place." she introduced, sticking her hand out for a handshake. The boys shook it, dazed.
"Nico." he said, blinking hard as he remembered the first and final piece of his identity, "I'm Nico!"
She smiled a little, "Welcome to the Glade, Nico."
He nodded, confused. Newt gave her a look and she returned it with one of her own, before leaning in to his ear, "Give him the tour today?"
Newt nodded, bending down to whisper, "Head to bed, Minho forced Gally to put a lock up for ya. You're all good."
She smiled gratefully, before dipping her head in goodbye. Nico's eyes followed her, curious.
"Morning." Adira greeted, sitting heavily in front of Minho, her limbs still stiff from sleep.
He looked up, sending her a muffled morning, before returning all of his attention to the bowl of porridge in front of him. She rolled her eyes.
Fry's food was less than satisfactory that morning, but she made do, eating the oatmeal he'd prepared- he was probably ill, or extremely tired, but she appreciated the effort he went through, adding fruits and even the greatly coveted honey to her bowl.
"Let's go, Ad." Minho said, breathing out slowly as he shoved aside his empty bowl, leaning forward on his forearms, "We're going to the Outer sections today."
She looked up, immediately frowning, "Really?"
A nod was his answer.
She bit her lip, doubtful, "You think I'm ready?"
"You're as fast as me, shank." Minho laughed, slapping the table and getting up to his feet, offering her a hand up, "You can run it."
"My knee, Minho." she pointed out, raising her eyebrow.
His smirk faltered for a moment before it returned, "You give me the word and we'll stop, yeah? 'Sides, you'll be fast even with your shucked knee."
"I don't know…"
"Hey," he said, sending a soft and genuine smile, squeezing her hand, "It's fine. You're shucking fast, good that? And I'm here. Won't let you get left behind. You'll lose the race, otherwise, remember?"
His words seemed so certain, she couldn't help but believe him, smiling slightly as she reminisced the competition that always sparked between them, "Yeah. Good that, thanks Min."
She didn't realise her hand was still clasped in his larger one until Fry came out of the cooking areas, lifting a bushy eyebrow, his gaze pointed. Minho stepped to the side, letting her hand drop, as he cleared his throat, throwing his signature smirk back onto his face. Adira grinned excessively brightly, hoping her hurt didn't radiate through. She didn't even know why she was hurt in the first place.
"Running too, then?" Fry asked, deciding to not question the two teenagers' dodgy expressions.
"Yup." Adira answered whilst Minho scratched the back of neck.
"We'll be going, Fry." he said abruptly, before grabbing her hand again. His eyes widened as he realised his mistake and he dropped it again, looking frustrated. Adira looked up at his eyes, the infinitely dark orbs with the hundred dimensions of colours, before she quirked her lips upwards into a small, barely there smile, her eyebrows lifted up in an expression of; c'mon, Min. Ever since their dream-memory, he'd acted pretty much the same. All that had changed was an even finer tuning with her emotions, openness and a way with his words that hadn't been present before and his apparent need to touch her. All. The. Time. She wasn't complaining though. She ignored the miniscule ache as she acknowledged the friendly gestures. Emphasis on friendly.
He pursed his lips, his eyes darting to Fry's passive face and to hers, before he rolled his eyes and grabbed her hand once more, his palm fitting perfectly within hers, warm, steady and strong. He turned back around, heading to the door, his intimidating stance daring anyone to object. Adira stifled a laugh at his assertiveness over holding her hand.
"As I was saying, we're heading to the Outer sections, you need to see them. You know, as Leader and a part time Runner." Minho said, reverting back to a fairly light-hearted tone, as she jogged to meet his side. Not many boys were up around the Glade but it didn't really matter anyway. Even if they did see her holding hands with Minho, she doubted they'd actively engage in her (and his) personal matters- they were just too intimidated by the biggest forces of the Glade, especially combined. And it was tacitly agreed on that Adira would never be as irresponsible as to let a crush get in the way of her job- that would be completely out of character for her. So, as far as they knew, they were friends. And pretty damn good ones.
She nodded, agreeing with the Keeper, "Absolutely. Maybe I can start running it too, when I go out there?"
Minho shook his head, "No way. Two people, together, go out there."
"Fine." she consented, "Makes sense."
"Damn straight." Minho winked, releasing her hand as the Doors ground open, shaking the soil under their tensed legs, "Ready shuckette?"
Only he ever called her that, with such conviction and affection, it sounded like an endearment.
"Ready."
And they were off.
"Damn." she whistled, ignoring the need to heave in gulps of oxygen and instead surveying the large, light grey stone structures that shot up like skyscrapers, high into the sky. There were no corridors- easy to get lost, instead just wide flat expanses of land with random wall separating the space.
"Right?" Minho said, his jaw clenched as he took in the Outer Section, "Mapping this is gonna be hard…"
"Why-"
Her question was cut short by the menacing grinding of the Doors- except it was the slabs of concrete moving and reshaping in front of their eyes, changing patterns and on due course to crush both Minho and her in about two seconds.
It took them a split second to understand where the horrid noise was coming from, eyes widening, heart skipping a beat in complete terror.
"RUN!" Minho yelled, back to reality, his legs propelling him as he pushed her forward. Their mad desperate dash, followed by the haunting grinding pushed them to their absolute limits as they moved into the seamlessly conjoined Inner section, panting, fear etched into their faces.
"Did not see that coming." Adira panted, slumping against the ivy covered concrete wall, her hand reaching for her previously injured knee. Minho's remorseful look burnt into the skin and she released it, sending him a small smile.
"I didn't know they moved, dude." Minho said, frowning, "This just makes Mapping even harder."
"They move in the day." Adira added incredulously, fully understanding the extent of trouble they were in. "How the hell are we meant to map all of that?"
"There's Day rotations as well now." Minho sighed, "Shucking hell, these Creators are straight up psychopaths."
"Agreed." she said tersely, "You're gonna have to brief the Runners…again."
"Yup." Minho nodded, looking unbothered, before he added "The shanks aren't taking to the news too badly. I mean, they don't have to run it, so they don't really care."
"Shuckfaces." she muttered, but there was no heat behind the words.
"Nah, they're alright." Minho snickered, meaning the absolute opposite, "Wonderful shanks to be around, Ad."
"Well, they're the ones that risk their lives every day." she muttered and Minho nodded, suddenly serious.
"Did the run work? I mean, I know you didn't come out here to get some alone time with me-"
"Minho!"
"Sorry." he grinned widely, "Did the run work? You're only out here when you feel like klunk."
"Well…I feel like klunk running from moving walls." she stated blandly, "And I've reached the conclusion that I'm pretty shucking happy Frank's gonna die. Even though it's because of me."
"You were doing so well." Minho said, shaking his head in mock disappointment, as he gestured for her to start jogging again, "You really didn't have to add that last bit on."
"Doesn't change the fact that I shouldn't be happy that a boy's going to die. And it's indirectly my fault."
"Doesn't change the fact that he's a shuckface in the first place." Minho mocked, letting a small smirk play at his lips.
She rolled her eyes, her lips quirking upwards, copying him, "You know what I mean. It's fine anyway, it'll pass. Just need a bit of time."
"We can work with that." Minho nodded, his eyes trained seriously onto the concrete, listening to her and any Grievers that could've been prowling the Outer sections.
"Good that."
"Nothing like a good run, eh?" Newt asked, popping a berry into his mouth as he grinned at Adira's face, "You're practically shining, love."
She rolled her eyes, scoffing, "Dramatic much, Newton?"
Newt hollered at Calvin, bringing the Keeper over, "Ain't she glowing, Cal? Look at her."
Calvin turned as red as his fiery hair, before muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "Glowing like a shuck light."
Newt grinned and Adira returned it, melting under his innocent smile- no way she could glare at him when he looked like that. Calvin left, his blush permanently staining his thin face.
"Anything happen?" Newt asked in an off-hand manner.
"Yes, actually." she sighed, "Minho will explain. I'm shucking exhausted."
Newt's face turned from a frown to a sympathetic look, "Have to say, I'm glad I don't run anymore. Go get some re-"
"Adira!"
Gally. Newt rolled his eyes, a silent question in his eyes.
"I can work for a while but I'll have an early night in, Newt."
He nodded in satisfaction, following Calvin's commands to tidy the tools away. Adira's eyes lingered on his heavily pronounced limp, feeling the heavy baggage of the Glade rest on the point of weakness on her knee. The sharp pain wore away once Gally tapped her back, shaking her out of her reverie, his stern, roughened face moving into view.
She was tired. But there was work to be done.
She felt his eyes follow her, scanning every single inch of her tired body, a precise gaze filled with the integrity of a hawk's eye. She fought against the instinct to turn, letting him run his eyes over every dip and curve she had to offer. She was exhausted. Mentally and physically. So she let him see it all.
"Thank you for your cooperation Subject X."
Adira ignored the blank scientist, her pretentious upturned nose inciting the need to punch her straight in her face. She busied herself with drinking a glass of water, regretting the action as the stale liquid cracked through the parched, dried skin of her throat. She winced. The scientist gave her a cold smile.
"I'll leave you now. Recover well, Subject X."
She scowled at the woman's back as she left the hospital room, setting down the glass with unexpected heat. Dimensions of hatred, violence and the constant need to squeeze the life out of someone coursed through her mind and veins, boiling her blood to a furious vapour.
"What did they do to you?"
His voice wasn't any louder than a whisper, haunted and low. She didn't know it was that bad. She didn't know she had changed that much over the span of three months. Three months of aggressive testing, a hungry greed for brain patterns, stimulations and an unreasonable, torturous separation between her and Minho.
She'd never admit it, but he'd broken her. As she watched them prick needles through his soft skin, the very same she had once run her fingers over, she'd died on the inside. As they wrote notes on fancy, black clipboards emblazoned with the WICKED logo, uncaring of the terror painted on his face. Watching his pain, every wince, every soft cry, had broken her. Never again would she try and escape the compound. Anything for his safety.
"What did they do to you?"
She couldn't meet his eyes. The image of horror and shock as a spiderlike metal creature barrelled towards him never left her mind. She hated the constant fear they lived in.
"Ad."
She flinched. Slow measured steps brought him close to her, his warmth radiating to her skin. Still, she had goosebumps lining her arms, refusing to stand down as the cold dread in her core seeped outwards.
"Look at me."
As if on autopilot, she connected them, plain fear, love and relief hitting her all at once like a train hurtling at her stomach.
"Been a long three months, Min."
Her voice barely sounded like her own, raspy and grainy, dry and coarse, like she'd crying for a long time- except she'd been screaming, not crying.
"Really, now?"
He didn't smile, but the familiar spark of amusement burst into his eyes and it was all she needed. Wrapping her arms around his torso, she practically collapsed into him, hoping he understood that she was done. Done with WICKED. She didn't believe their crap anymore, all the hope for a cure, all the fervent talk about the honourable sacrifices they were making for the continuation of the human race. It was all fruitless, pointless in the end- there was no cure, simple as. She'd accepted it but WICKED was still in the denial phase.
Judging by the way Minho tensed in her arms, she knew he'd understood. She nearly smiled. The WICKED staff had always been perplexed over their apparent mind communication skills, the efficient precision they read each other with. It would've been a lie to say she wasn't amazed by it either.
"I'll get us out of here, Ad. You, me, Thomas, Newt-" Minho whispered urgently in her ear, his warm breath hitting her with desperation.
"No."
"We'll leave, no way I'm gonna let you-"
"No."
He paused, stepping back from her. There was betrayal in his eyes and her stomach twisted unpleasantly at the foreign, intrusive emotion, "What?"
"No. We're not going to try escaping again."
It was easier to examine him now that he'd backed up. WICKED had really messed up one of their top candidates. If they'd been lower ranking, she was sure they'd have been…deposited. The thinness of his waist scared her, the hollows of his cheeks leaving a similar emptiness in her heart, the lack of exuberance he normally wore like a badge of honour gone, replaced by urgent seriousness.
"Why not? Ad, you know-"
"I do know, Minho! I watched them torture you!" she spat, pressure building behind her eyes. If she found it painful just thinking about what he'd been through, what the hell was Minho feeling?
"W-what?"
The distress on his face was disturbing- Minho was never scared, never not savvy.
"They made me watch you go through those tests. Every. Single. One. They strapped me down to the robot chair, made me watch, took my brain patterns."
He was silent for a moment, looking at the clean, sterilised linoleum hospital floor with an absent expression, before fixing her with a piercing stare.
"Did they hurt you?"
She wanted to laugh. Of course he'd ask that. Telling him the truth would be messy, lying to him would be a cardinal sin.
"Yes. I-I tried to escape, to get you out of one the tests they were doing…they put me in the…the chamber. The Crank chamber. I got hurt there. Otherwise, it's the usual. Tests. They took food away for a while too, said they were checking my starvation signals or some BS like that."
The way he scrutinised her, his expression so scared, made her wish for a genie who'd grant her three wishes. She needed a mirror in that moment, she wanted to wish for it in that moment. And an escape from WICKED. Perhaps an abolishment of the Flare. Wicked might lose it if they had no actual legitimate cause to torture and maim young children, but that was their own psychopathic world problem.
"No food?" Minho squeaked. He looked positively terrified.
"Have you seen yourself?" she said, the words sharp. Luckily, Minho had thick skin, tolerant to her cuttingness. "Nothing's on you, Min, what did they do that they didn't show me?"
"We both look crap." he shrugged bluntly, before pointing to a small room, "Mirror's there, take a look. I know I ain't pretty boy anymore."
He was her genie. Always granting her wishes.
Opening the door, cautiousness crept in- Minho had been truly horrified to see her physique. WICKED had gone too far.
The mirror reflected a corpse, barely living, thin, in survival mode. She almost screamed.
"Told you."
They would never, never, never attempt an escape again. Not again. She felt him stand by her side as they both stared at the unfamiliar, wrecked faces in the mirror, trying to come to terms that they were their reflections. This was what WICKED had reduced them to.
WICKED claimed they were the good people, striving to be the saviour of humanity, the effort that saved the human race from extinction, but as Adira looked at the haunted, hollow eyes of the lifeless girl in the mirror, she knew it was a hoax, a cleverly concealed mistruth; the cure was out of reach and WICKED weren't saving humanity. With every child they tortured, every death that fell on their tab, they were destroying the sacred essence that composed every single, living soul on the wretched planet, even the Cranks. They weren't saving humanity- they were destroying the little, sporadic humanity left in each person. And she was a part of it.
"Newt!"
The blonde spun around, surprise painted across his face as he caught sight of her emaciated figure next to Minho, both of them hiding in the vents that adorned the WICKED facilities. The reckless idea had been Minho's (obviously), who claimed he needed a "man friend". She knew he missed Newt though. Hence why they were now in the metal tube in Newt's room.
"Bloody-"
"Help us down first dude." Minho complained, "It's a bit of a squeeze- move, Ad, flipping hell. Your leg is in my face."
She huffed irritably, reaching out for the blonde's hand, though Newt didn't move for a solid ten seconds, his pale face as ghostly as the apparition he was seeing in them.
"You're-you're alive." he croaked out, holding her wrist tightly in his grip. She frowned. He didn't let go, stunned by this warm, breathing, thinner version of the Adira he'd known three months prior her vanishing.
Minho cleared his throat, scowling pointedly at Newt, who promptly released her wrist extending an arm for the Asian boy to use. Minho ignored it anyway, instead opting to slap a high five as he jumped down.
"Course we're alive." he said easily, grinning suddenly.
Adira winced on his behalf- he was covering up his pain. Ever since WICKED had leeched their strength out of them, Minho's loss of physical capabilities had been really messing with him, mentally more so than physically. He tended to forget he was still hurt, forget that he couldn't run for a straight five hours anymore, forget that his bones still protruded from him.
"You were gone." Newt said in a clipped voice, "No one said a thing, what the hell did you do? I mean, three bloody months? I was sitting on my arse, thinking you were six feet under, driving myself mad and everyone shut their lips tighter than Ava Paige herself!"
Adira bit her lip. She'd expected the lecture, and welcomed it fondly. It was familiar and loving. Everything WICKED was not.
Minho's guilty look came into her peripheral vision and she knew she'd have to take up the role of storyteller for the night. Besides, she was less dramatic, more efficient and they were extremely pressed for time.
"We tried to escape the WICKED compound."
Newt blinked.
"It's true." Minho said, helpfully.
Newt groaned into his hands, a muffled, "What have I taught these children?" barely audible.
"Well, we did try and escape and it didn't work. Obviously."
"Obviously." Newt assented sarcastically, "Sheesh, Ad, you're really dropping bombs in my face right now. No offence, but you're meant to be dead. Not alive. You know their stupid rules."
"Thanks, Newt, I'm touched." Minho snorted, quietening when Adira shot him a withering glare.
"They…punished us."
Newt grimaced, "Can tell."
"You're really not short of compliments." Minho commented.
Adira snorted mentally, before continuing her explanation to a baffled Newt.
"Well, brilliant you're alive." he said glumly, "But we're stuck here for the rest of…who knows, mate? Our lives?"
Minho scowled.
"Don't think." Adira scolded, though her face was pinched in an expression of worry, "We'll survive, we have to."
"We have to."
Their voices were dull, lifeless, hopeless. But it was all they had.
"Let's go back, Ad. Bye Newt, tell Thomas we're fine, see ya dude."
Minho left up the vent.
"I thought I told you not to do stupid things like that?" Newt said, his voice clipped.
"We were desperate, Newt."
His face melted into a face full of exhaustion, "Right. Get gone, then, Ad. You'll get caught."
Adira smiled in goodbye, leaving Newt after the hurried words Minho spat, crawling down the vents to the medical room they'd been left in. They had to stay alive.