The Storm: Chapter Eight
My head hurt too much. My body hurt too much. It seemed that everything hurt too much. Slowly, the sense started to send reports back to my brain. There were bruises and cuts and scrapes and maybe some breaks. I kept my eyes closed, not because I didn't want to see where I was, but I thought it would hurt too much to open them.
I tried to move my arm an inch, but the moment the thought even crossed my mind, pain seared through like a molten fire, burying itself deep into my chest. I bite down, my face cringing through the pain. White flashing across my eyes, sending my head into a dizzy spin of nausea. Needles. It felt lie a thousand needles had been jammed into every fibre of my existence. There was nowhere to retreat from this. Each of breath felt like swallowing broken glass. The last just as painful as the first. I was trapped in an ever-ending cycle of agony. The pain was overwhelming to the point if screaming was an option, I would have done just that.
But worse than that was the growing panic – panic that I had been left behind to die.
I forced my eyes open, biting down as the light flooded in. At first, blinding whiteness pierced every nerve ending and searing the connection to my brain. Gradually (and I mean gradually) it dulled to reveal the multitude of colours. Orange and gold greeted me with soft strikes brushed against the skyline. The sky ablaze with the fire of the setting sun. Long dark shadows cast themselves along the ground, covering me in darkness but setting the tips of the rock face ablaze in the golden brilliance. I could see why they called this the golden hour.
You don't know what the golden hour is.
I do now.
A light tap to my face drew me away from the wonder of the sky. The soft bristles on the branches of the yellow flowered plant swayed in the light breeze that had settled in the valley. They were the same ones that I walked through earlier that day.
Earlier that day…
Was it the same day. It felt like the same day. There was nothing to indicate that it wasn't. But how would have I have known that. Days could have passed. I could have missed it. Abandoned. Alone…
Stop. Breathe. Think.
Stop … … … Breathe … … … Think.
Stop … … Breathe … Think.
I shoved the spiral of thoughts away. That was something I didn't need right now. There were no answers to my questions. What there was was a self-fulfilling destiny if I spent any more time wallowing in the realm of despair. Carrying on was the only way I could continue. No matter how much I hurt. I still had a claim to the cure. I had every intention of gaining it.
Initiating the first part of my plan was the worst part. When I lifted my head, pain bolted down my nape. My eyes screwed together. Through a dense headache, I coached myself to rise and push back the pain. As I tried to get to my knees, something deep inside me cracked. Pain thumped through my bones and bruises. With a sharp intake of breath, I stopped, my faze glazed with cold sweat. When I laid out my hands to steady myself, dried blood lingered in their wake. I dared not think what I actually looked like.
I took a deep breath to soothe the stabbing aches. A sharp pain in my chest, on the right side, erupted when I took it. I coughed. The discomfort growing inside my own body. A low whimper escaped my lips. Something wasn't right. Something felt very broken.
You need to keep moving.
I gritted my teeth together, swallowed back the bile that formed, ignored the pain and straightened myself until I stood upright. Every jostle that I made sent ripples of pain through my shoulder, back and neck. I wiped away a tear from the corner of my eye. It involuntarily escaping.
I strained my neck and peeked up to the tip of the cliff face. Down here, the drop looked daunting. Even looking at the top made my knees shake. It was a question beyond me on how I managed to survive such a fall. The last thing I remembered was Georgie punching me in the head and Leo letting go. Falls like these kill people. I didn't need a memory to know that. I had fallen from a greatly smaller height and still managed to break an ankle.
So how had I managed to walk away from these? I couldn't remember falling. Autopilot had a better handle on surviving these types of situations than me at the present moment.
Should have let me take over to kill Leo.
The only relief I had in this situation was the rough which direction I should be heading in. The problem was trying to find the gap in the rock face that would prove the next challenge. Along with trying to get there.
With just enough sunlight left in the day, I willed myself to walk forward. It was agonising walking this slow. No matter how much faster I needed to walk, there was a barrier of pain that prevented me. Maya only managed to spot the opening in direct sunlight. I was falling dangerously into the night territory where everything could be missed. The light would only last for so long, and this was the one chance I had to catch them up. I could not waste any more of my precious hours waiting for the sun to rise again. There was no backup, I was on my own this time.
A blue hue descended of the landscape by the time I had gotten to a familiar location. The city a dark shadow in the distance, wind-worn boulders lean against one another for support. First naïve glance and I would have missed it. However, I had been here before and the hollow of darkness in the rock face pinpointed the next part of my plan. Luck would only be on my side for so long. I had to savour every moment as it came.
I paused at the ridge. The first time I had climbed this I struggled with the descent of the slope. Now (with a sharp pain in my chest, a despicable cough and a powerful headache) I was going to have to climb that same slope. If I had been anyone else, I would have given up. The very thought of attempting something like this made me queasy. Smart me told me to not do this. It would make any injuries worse, and then I really would be stuck. Practical me saw the urgency of finishing and protested that I had to carry on. I hadn't broken a leg or an arm, I had to make myself carry on.
Bite through the pain and climb.
The fibres in my body set themselves alight the very instance I placed my hand to the cool surface. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead, dripping down the side of my face. It took every ounce of strength in me to propel myself upwards into a climb. A squeal escaped my lips as my arms and legs moved up the surface of the rock, the pain tearing at every living cell in my chest.
"Come on," I hissed through barred teeth as I reached out with my arm to grab onto the ledge. I missed by mere inches and slid with a heavy thud back down to the ground. I clutched my chest and let out a rattled cry that soon formed into a coughing fit. I refused to move for a few minutes as I waited for the pain to settle enough that I could attempt again. There was no choice in the matter. I already knew that this was the only way to the mountain. Any other would make for a long detour that I had no time in wasting. It was either up or perish. And I refused to die.
On my second attempt, with determination settled in my bones, I managed to haul myself up and over the ledge. I gripped onto the rock indentations as hard as I could bare and climbed the side the rock. I was drenched in sweat at this point. My muscles screamed. Each breath felt like shards of glass piercing at my lungs. With each strain of my arm, I could feel every ounce of my strength dwindling away.
And finally, after darkness had fallen and the stars twinkled in the clear night sky, I dragged myself to the top of the cliff and dropped to the ground in a coughing fit. The urge to cry overwhelmed as the agony dug itself everywhere. I struggled to gain control over my cough. Once I did, only my wheezing could be heard. It would take a miracle for me to even stand again.
Then do it.
I counted my short breaths till they calmed to a steady pace and braced myself to stand again. My joints stiffened as I rose, a few cracking when they bent into shape. I took a heavy step forward, balancing my weight in the sudden change of motion, and then took another. I held my hands out in front of me to prepare myself for an eventual fall. There wasn't one. Neither a second one. I continued to shuffle, taking very step with caution. Then each step manifested into dread. I was returning to the place where it went wrong. Where I lost sight. Where I failed.
I halted. Any further and I would have to relive that memory. That terrible moment. I contemplated for a second taking a different direction. But that would only satisfy the guilt for so long. I needed to continue on ahead. I needed to walk this path because this was the way I needed to go. Any detour could cost me everything.
I arrived.
In the twilight darkness, I could make out the shape of the rock and the slight incline leading to the top of it. To where it happened. And there, on the other side was a small mound. A new dreaded feature to the landscape.
A lump formed at the back of my throat. I bit down on my bottom lip to settle the tremble and ascended up the path. My fingertips traced the now cool edge of the rock, dislodging bits of rubble as I went.
Four. Three. Two. One.
I stood over the mound. The earth freshly turned over. The stones neatly placed on top. Enough to cover the body. The air round me stilled, as if it knew what lay here.
"I'm sorry Jamie," I whispered. I let the tears fall for my failure to protect him. For the shame that I could not remember who he was. I desperately wished I had those memories from Eden so I could honour his memory properly. I felt like a fraud standing over his grave, mourning his death. I didn't know who he was. Yet he had accepted me despite the changes. He had pushed aside what he knew of me and embraced the new Clarke. The emotions flowed freely from me, a tidal wave of sorrow feeling my heart and soul.
Staring at the mound made reality real. It forced me to realise that I had to accept what had happened. Not immediately, but in time I would have to accept it. I would have to learn to forgive myself for letting it happen and the guilt of not knowing. If I would ever. That would be a testimony to time itself.
After a while my sobs settle for there was nothing left for me to give. I couldn't stay here any longer, I had to leave him alone. I sniffled, wiped away the remaining tears and faced away from the mound.
I had to consider what my next move was. I had no idea which direction the others had gone, or if they were still alive. Georgie threatened to hunt them down and kill them for revenge. I needed to find them to warn about the danger that they were in. I would not fail them as well.
What if you've already missed it all and have been abandoned?
Shut up.
I could not waste time with them kind of thoughts floating around my head. It was unproductive and brought the feeling of dread. Like I had promised myself, I would carry on as normal until the ending was revealed to me. Then I could panic to my heart's content.
"My pack," my hoarse voice blurted out. The intention of reaching the checkpoint at the fore-ground of my priorities, I had completely forgotten that I would need supplies to help me. Even the thought of water parched the back of my throat. Without my supply of water and cans of food, I would barely last during the day in the Scorch. I would most certainly be dead.
Then I realised. In my escape from Leo, I had disposed of it round the other side of the rock. Everyone had clearly evacuated the area. So the question that hung in the air was: was my pack still there?
I shuffled as quickly as my legs allowed me, rounded the head of the rock and started to my slow search in the dark for it. I kept one foot out in front of me as I traced the edge of the rock down. It was about half way down that my big toe clinked against a metallic object. I cried out in relief, the feeling of not dying of dehydration evaporating from my mind.
The light fading, I flipped open the pack and counted how many cans I had left. A quick calculation in my head figured out that if I was strict on my rationing, I had enough to get to the checkpoint and back again to the city to find some more. Maybe it was time to start thinking about life in the city. Perhaps joining Jorge's palace of Crank's didn't sound like a bad plan after all. That's if Alma didn't kill me first for my eyes.
"Stop thinking about the worst outcome," I scolded myself. It was all well and good planning for the future, but that placed me in a mindset that I had already failed Phase Two. Until proof stared me in the eyes, I was still in the game.
I popped open one of the cannisters and drank a few mouthfuls of water to appease my growing thirst. Once finished, I carefully placed it back in and reshuffled the contents to make it fit neatly. I gave one tug at an arm strap and sharp daggers poked into my chest. Up until this point, it had not occurred to me that I would no longer be able to hold the weight of the pack on my back. My chest refused to have it. I had to think of alternative way to survive.
I thought for a second. Then pulled out a few of the food cans and water cannisters, and placed them neatly half-buried in the dirt. Away from preying eyes. I left just enough in the pack to get to the checkpoint and back. Next, I drew out the scarf from deep within and tied it to the nearest bush. That way on my return journey I could find my stash. I regained myself, leaning against the side of the rock as I struggled to take in long breaths. With my hands on the side, I counted until I could breathe without sharp pains digging into my side.
Deep voices down below caught my attention. I lowered myself to hide in the shadows. From what I could hear, the voices belonged to more than one person. I didn't risk stealing a glance to check who they were. All I knew, they could be Cranks trying to escape the city. For what reason I did not want to find out.
I half-straightened my back and grabbed hold of one of the straps of my pack. I would have to make it to the top of the rocks if I wanted to escape undetected. Any longer I spent meant I would be trapped between both sides of the rock. This was my chance and I had to take it. No matter how much it hurt to escape.
I dragged myself across the side of the rock, making sure that the voices always stayed behind me. As far as I knew, they had not noticed me. The rock was large, but all it took was for one for them to come over to my side and spot me. I had to act quickly.
I got to the top of the rock and kneeled. The sky, at this point, had darkened with remnants of sunlight bursting out a dark blue from the horizon. Perfect. The cover of darkness would allow my escape. If I timed this right, I could slip away unnoticed into the bushes and past the rock formation further on into the distance. I would rather be out in front of them, then trying to avoid their detection from behind.
I plotted the exact direction I was going to run. Just ahead of me lay another mound of rocks. If I could just make it beyond them, I could still follow the same direction I wanted to head, just at a distance. I cautiously rose, making sure that my head was still hidden from sight, and prepared to flat-out sprint. This all bottled down to my legs not failing on me, but I had no other choice. The Crank's had a weird obsession with my eyes and I did not want to find out the reason for it.
I listened to the voices. At this point they had hushed, not a peep of a word had been spoken in a full minute. A dreaded thought blinked into my mind. What if they had already seen me? That's why they went quiet. I was already a prey in their trap and I was wasting time by hesitating on running away.
Well, there was only one thing for it. I propelled myself from the rock with my hands and darted across the gravel as fast as I could. I immediately slammed into a hard wall that had not been there originally. In the split second I comprehended that I had collided with a body, an arm flew out and pushed me violently against the rock. They firmly placed their forearm up against my collarbone. The pain in my shoulder ramped up from stiffness all the way to searing, blinding agony faster than I could blink. I bit back the urge to scream and cough. I wanted to give them no hints that I was injured. That way there was a chance that they would leave me alone and not pursue me as a wounded animal.
I flung out an arm. It resulted in a feeble tap on their chest as I realised exhaustion had now rendered me weak to the core. Up until this point, I was running on pure spite. Clearly that had run out, and all that was left was fumes. This wasn't going to be pretty.
I wriggled under their grasp, hoping that me refusing to stay still me would force them to loosen their arm pinned to me. It did. I felt the arm ever so slightly slip from my collarbone and I seized the moment. I chanced the same move again, this time intent on shoving the person away from me so that I had plenty of space to sprint away. It was like they could read my every move. The moment I tried the attack again, they grabbed a hold of my wrist with their other hand and slammed down.
"Let me go," I growled, using my need to scream to fuel my words.
"Clarke?" the person breathed.
Wait, I recognised that voice. In the dim light, I could just make out a face and dark hair that accompanied it.
"Minho?" I hesitated. I was dreaming. This couldn't really be happening. I was never this blessed.
We didn't get a chance to reunite, for the second my name had escaped Minho lips Newt had come pounding up the and shoved him aside. He pulled me toward him and wrapped his arms around me into a tight hug. Newt squeezed me so tight that the scream I held back escaped from my mouth. My chest exploded in pain and I collapsed to the ground in a violent coughing fit, Newt barely keeping my upright as I fell.
"I'm sorry." Newt apologised in a fluster. He let go of me, snatching his hands into his chest, too afraid to touch me. I bent my head into my hands and attempted to relive myself of the cough that refused to go. Newt's hand rested on the top of my head as he tried to provide to comfort of a sort.
It was too far. In an instant, every muscle in my body turned to iron. Darkness ruptured before my eyes, and I was hauled back to the cliff, dangling over the edge. Frantic, I groped the ground below me.
No one is coming for you.
Black waves of fear crashed over me. You'll die alone.
I summed as much strength as I could to throw Newt to the side as I threw up a thick substance beside me. There was nothing solid in my stomach. Each retch mangled icy sweat from my pores. By the time I was done, I felt as if I had been ripped inside-out.
"Clarke?"
"I'll make you suffer."
"I can't." My throat had a thick lining. "Newt, I can't breathe–"
For a terrible instant, I thought I would pass out again and awaken somewhere terrible. Then Newt was there, holding my elbows.
"Breathe in," he said. My hands went to his shoulders. "Clarke, look at me." I tried to through a dark haze. "Breathe in. Slowly."
Easier said than done. I managed to inhale, but it did little to wring out the soaked cloth of my lungs.
"Good," he said. "It will pass." I had to blink several times before I believed he was really there. "Breathe out."
His voice guided me back to myself. My fingers dug into his shoulders. When the surge of terror had receded, Newt drew back to his heels.
"Who did this?"
The pitch of his voice was so low, it was little more than a vibration. "The others," I said.
Banked heat flickered in his eyes.
"Was it that girl who was with you?"
"No," my voice cracked. "It wasn't them. It was an ambush from others."
"Ambush?"
I weakly lifted my arm and pointed to the mound. Newt glanced over his shoulder and spotted what I intended for him to see. "What's that?" he asked.
"Jamie." I was barely able to speak his name. There was only so long I could go without denying what had happened. Then the guilt flooded back, washing past the barriers and escaping through my sobs. "I couldn't save him. They stuck him with a pole and he … he … died. And they just laughed."
Newt dipped his head. He clasped my hands and kissed the palm. "I wish I had the right words. Just know I care."
Minho bent down on his knee. I looked up to him, so tried I could hardly focus. "We should move. They might be still around."
"Let Clarke rest, she can barely stand," was the reply Newt shot back.
You need to warn them. They will die.
Georgie's words rung in my ear. The threat she gave before she sentenced me to death. Jamie and I were not the last of her killing spree. The others were in danger and I doubted they knew how immediate the threat was. I had to warn them.
Whilst Minho and Newt were distracted in discussion, I prepared myself to stand. Fatigue rushed over me. Almost drunk with it, I levered myself up on straw legs. The sudden movement snapped Newt's attention back to me. He tightened his grip on my elbows, stopping me from fully standing.
"Woah, where you think you're goin'?" Newt said.
"I have to warn them," I said as I strained against his weight. "I don't have much time. Help me up."
"Warn who about what?" he questioned.
"It's a long story. I don't have time to explain." I weaned Newt's hands from my elbows and used his shoulders as a crutch to bring myself tall. He stood, his body blocking my exit. "Hey."
"Ya can't just go," Newt told me. "You're in no fit state to leave."
"I don't have a choice."
"You do. Stay." Newt took my hands again and placed them into his chest. "Please, I can't lose you again."
I was silent for a long time.
He was right. I was in no fit state to galivant across the Scorch in hopes of finding the others in time. I barely made it here without collapsing. Out there I was lost the moment I left. I needed to restore some energy. I needed to rest. Then I could find them. One night wouldn't hurt.
"I'll stay for now," I finally said in a low voice.
"For now?"
"For now," I reaffirmed. "Could get lost out there in the night anyway."
His shoulders relaxed, as did mine. He stood back and I felt calmer.
At the same time, Minho had left and assembled the Gladers into a group further down the path. They murmured amongst one another. The topic of talk was definitely me. No one dared to intervene.
"Can we go now?" Minho called to Newt.
"Yeah, we should go."
Minho gathered the remaining Gladers attention and led them up past us. All their heads hung low as they passed. A few whispers of hello caught my ears. Clint giving the loudest welcome. It was a relief to know he was alive. The others, not so sure. The voices were the only indication I had of which Gladers walked past (and the mental image from when I last saw them). I barely made out the shadows of each in the darkness. Hearing them was different to seeing them. And I noticed that out of all, three distinctive voices were missing. Jeff, Chuck and Thomas. I would have to hunt them down when we stopped to rest to question why they were ignoring me. No one else was. Why were they?
"I warned you about the nasty girl." I froze. Blood drained from my face. Last time I had heard that voice I was seconds away from losing my eyes.
"What are doing 'ere?" I hissed.
"Getting myself and Brenda here the cure," Jorge answered with a hint of glee. I eased partially. Alma had towered over when I last encountered her. The figure beside Jorge was much shorter, with shadows of hair cascading past her shoulders. That person was definitely not Alma in disguise. When dawn broke, I would see what this Brenda girl looked like. For now, I would settle for a not-Alma crank. "Kept your eyes, I see. Alma would be pleased to have them."
"How do you know? It's dark." I restrained myself from blurting out anything more.
"I had a sense you'd keep them."
"Have you already met?" Newt asked.
"Sí," Jorge said. "Chiquita had the nerve to threaten me." He turned to me. "I saw the punishment worked."
I balled my fists. Newt lifted his arm up to block me from engaging him.
"I've your talkin' about them Cranks," I hissed, "Then you'll want to know that they were dealt with."
I didn't waste any more time in Jorge's presence. I launched myself and followed the Gladers, doing my best to keep my head high. Newt joined me by my side, my pack slung over his shoulder. I counted eleven steps before I silently asked Newt to help me walk. He obeyed and slipped an arm around my waist taking some of my weight from me.
We mainly walked in silence. Mainly because I was too exhausted to say anything more to him. I knew that tomorrow I would leave again in search of the others. Bringing that up again would end in an argument that I was not prepared to have. Not in the state I was in. I still had yet to even mention what had happened in the Glade. That was a topic that I wasn't sure how to even start.
To occupy myself, I counted the steps that we took as we diverted off the path. When I did manage to leave, I would need to know how far I had walked from the path so that I could find them. I may not have known where they went, but I knew where the end point was. It wouldn't take me long to figure out which direction they took. Daylight was the perfect time to do this. There was no point getting lost at such a crucial moment. Especially now that I knew I was still in the running.
Minho led the group to a small area covered by a single tree and rocks bellowing up one side. When the sun rose again, the tree and rocks would provide us with some shade. That's if they were planning on staying here that long. I hadn't exactly asked what their strategy was. All I knew was that they had been walking all day and needed to rest.
With my chest in agony, I requested that I'd be helped to the floor to lay down. I couldn't stand the thought of having something hard sticking into my back. The ground, in some way, seemed more enticing. Newt supported me as I lowered myself down. He slid my pack from his shoulders and placed it to the side of me. He then sat down on the other side and wrapped an arm round me. He was careful to rest it below my chest area. I leant my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes.
Having no memory of Group C had unsettled me. I was an outsider to them. They were just too polite to admit that. Seeing the Gladers alive, and being next to Newt, did bring some sort of comfort. But not the comfort I was seeking. I thought the buzz from the Gladers would bring a welcomed reassurance that I had been missing. It did not. I still felt like the outsider looking in. I felt like I didn't belong anywhere and WICKED couldn't make up their mind on what to do with me.
When this ended, I would know my fate.
I opened my eyes and took in the scene before me. It was darker now, the sky complete black with a twinkle of stars illuminating the heavens. Shadows of lumps pinpointed where the Gladers rested. Few were on our side of the tree. The closest Minho and Frypan, who were in deep conversation with one another. Minho must have told the others to give us space. After all, I was injured and I did not want to be stepped on in the middle of the night.
"I have missed ya," Newt murmured. He took a hold of my hand and placed it in his. "It's been torture thinkin' you were dead."
"I can believe," I hesitantly reply. "I missed you too."
A lull engulfed us. I had waited long enough to ask him about Jeff, Chuck and Thomas. Now seemed the appropriate time.
"Where's Jeff, Chuck and Thomas? Are they ignoring me?"
Newt didn't respond for a while. I didn't need to see the reaction on his face to see that something was wrong. The grip in his hand tightened at the very mention of their names. I started to regret asking him the question.
Instead of telling me outright an answer, Newt chose to explain what had happened after I disappeared from the Glade. According to him, Gally warned them that each night one Glader would be taken unless they solved the Maze and escape. I had been the first victim, but I wasn't the last.
Newt, with a regretful tone in his voice, detailed once they had figured out the Maze, Thomas allowed for himself to get stung by a Griever. He was able to learn more about the Maze and a route out of there. Most of the Gladers followed him to the Griever Hole to escape. Many had died fighting the Grievers when they had surfaced out (including Aris), but they were able to survive thanks to the codes that he, Thomas and Minho had figured out. Once they were safely through, the Gladers were greeted by a woman who called herself the Creator. She informed them that they had passed the Maze Trials, however there was one Variable left for them. Newt broke off.
"And, what happened?" I questioned.
"I shouldn't tell you," came the reply. "You won't like what you hear."
I wish I had taken his advice. Ignorance is bliss as they say. Maybe it was the thought that everyone knew what had happened expect me, and I didn't want to be left out. That and the feeling that I knew who was involved to cause such sadness.
"Gally appeared from behind the woman," Newt continued, "and when she said that we weren't finished he threw a knife at Thomas."
No no no no, ran through my head.
"Chuck dove in front of him and sacrificed himself."
I didn't say anything.
"I'm so sorry Clarke," Newt spoke in a hushed tone. I slumped down further into the ground. I leaned forward, placing my head in my hands and sobbed. Huge body-shaking sobs racked my body, each coming in a wave, and, with every sob, I let out a low whimper. In part for the pain of loss and in part for the pain my sorrow caused me on my chest. The sobs soon turned to coughing and Newt aided me as I regained my breath back.
Newt kept his arm around me, then pulled me into a soft hug. If hugs could heal, I would have asked him to never let go. I couldn't take any more of this pain. The feeling ripping through me as it refused to stop to the point, I was numb to everything. To the emotion. It was a while before I felt in control again and the wave stopped.
I waited even longer to ask Newt my next question.
"Where's Jeff and Thomas?" I asked. I wiped away the tears glistening at the corners of my eyes and blew my nose the end of my shirt.
"Jeff went missing before we entered the city. We haven't seen him since. Thomas, well he's alive. Group B took him captive."
"Why does Group B want him?"
"To kill him."
"Kill him." I faintly said in shock. "Why haven't you gone after him?"
"We can't," Newt sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Group B had weapons and we don't. We had no other choice but to let them take him."
"And, who are Group B?"
"A bunch of girls," Newt said. "Their leader was called Teresa."
"Teresa." The name sounded familiar. "The girl in Thomas's head?"
"Seems so." Newt picked at the thread of this trouser pocket. "She was more than thrilled to take him away."
"I can imagine."
"The other girls didn't seem to like her, the Teresa girl," Newt added. "There was something going on between them. Like they were forced to follow her."
"She may have taken over command when they went through their finale."
Newt hummed as he contemplated my words. Hearing about the different groups of WICKED made it all more difficult to understand the end goal they had. Us, in Group C, it seemed WICKED were more than happy for each of us to eliminate the other until there was only six.
For them, well I wasn't too sure what they had been told by WICKED. Newt had told me that I was safer with them. Yet they had managed to lose most of the Gladers to all the trials they had encountered. I weren't sure if I wanted to stay with them. They could lead me astray and my chance of gaining the cure would be lost.
Tomorrow, I had to carry on … alone.
Telling him about what I had to endure was not a topic I was willing to have with them. It would bring only despair, and I had already gone through too much of that in a short space of time. I needed to time to heal first before I dropped that kind of detail.
I lowered myself to get comfortable and closed my eyes. I felt a faint press of lips on the top of my head and fell asleep with Newt by my side.
In the whisper of sleep I heard one thing.
"Stay with us," Newt said in a low voice. "You'll be safe."
I didn't respond and settled down for the long night.
Through I was physically and mentally spent, sleep refused to come. Each breath raised brutal pain. My skin was so sensitive it almost hurt. I was hot and cold.
A few hours later, my cough was back with vengeance. Newt scooped out a water cannister to help with cushioning my chest and let me sleep.
It never lasted. Not for long. At some point, my body turned on its side and throes of pain flared in my chest. I jerked awake. My shirt plastered to my skin.
I stared at the sky for a long time, counting the stars that flickered many, many miles away. It was clear that I would never have a full night's sleep until my chest healed. I hoped that that would end when I arrived at the checkpoint.
When each breath raided a brutal pain, Newt gently moved me from the floor. He pressed himself against the rock and settled my back on his chest. I tried to protest but he shot me down and refused to let me go back to sleeping on the ground. He drew my jacket that was stuffed in my pack and laid it atop of me. To keep my secure on his chest, he lightly rested his arms around my waist.
At first, I was too aware of each tiny movement, worried I may disturb him if I fidgeted too much. Before long, exhaustion towed me down and I nestled my head into the nook of his shoulder. In the silence of the night I drifted back to sleep.
