"I don't want to do that ever again," said Rowan as most made it to the entrance of the next building. "Walking through a hallway with half its floor destroyed? Not pretty."
"Be thankful no one fell. That drop was at least a hundred metres." Leen pointed the torch, which she had previously stolen from Bea, towards the building they were about to enter. "Yey, more broken glass and caved-in roof."
Before anyone could take a single step, Jorge raised a hand in the air, stopping everyone in their tracks. His head turned in many directions as the mechanic sound from WICKED's helicopter got nearer.
"Here, come on," he said, rushing everyone to a room to their left. "Go, go, go. Stay low."
"This is giving me flashbacks, and I don't like it," muttered Henry as he ran inside.
Listening carefully to the helicopter, they all pressed their backs against the wall; logic telling them that there was no need to do that since there were no windows around. There was no way out from there except the door they had come through, and only Jorge and William had weapons to defend themselves, which the rest didn't even know about.
Jorge brought a finger to his lips, motioning everyone to keep quiet. They complied, trying to keep even their breathing low; though some couldn't quite manage to do it, like Chuck or William, though the two were for different reasons.
Chuck got closer to William, who left a space between him and Aris, so the boy could be protected. Newt moved closer as well, not letting go of William's hands for a second as their eyes locked for a second before going back to the door.
A helicopter — surely WICKED's — flew over the building they were in, flashing its lights directly into the hallways outside the room. They walked away from the door carefully, going towards the opposite wall, protected from being seen. Eventually, the helicopter left, allowing everyone to let out a relieved sigh.
"That was close," George breathed out.
"Way too shuckin' close," said Minho.
Frypan moved closer to the wall, where Henry and Rowan were making sure everyone was alright. "What do we do now?"
Jorge took his bag off and laid it on the ground. "Rest a couple of hours, and leave before sunrise, hermano."
The plan was accepted quickly. After that day's events, not many had any desire to keep risking their lives without at least resting their eyes for some time. There wasn't much space to lie down, so most leaned against the wall and did their best to fall asleep. Although, as if Thomas had surged out of nowhere, many questions were directed at Jorge in the span of a second, to which he replied a few.
"Alright, but you said that Marcus can get us to the Right Arm. Wouldn't he ask for a price if it's so difficult to get to them?" Rowan asked Jorge, who chuckled.
"Not if you know how to ask him, hermana," he answered.
Flor turned to look at Aris and William, whispering, "Is he going to shoot him?", to which they could only shrug their shoulders. "Great."
Without a further word, perhaps due to exhaustion or lack of curiosity, silence reigned in the room. Newt's head, which had at one point been resting on the wall, fell on William's shoulder, who had to force himself not to pat the boy's head.
He pressed the back of his head against the wall, mumbling to himself. "It's going to be a long night."
Time proved to pass on slowly, but it brought a fun surprise to William. Apparently, he had become a pillow of sorts, not only to Newt but to Chuck too. The boy barely managed to keep his head on William's shoulder, since it kept lowering, causing William to place a hand on Chuck's head to keep him from hurting himself.
Footsteps left the wall near to walk to the centre of the room, making William follow the shadow with his eyes. The person stopped and sat down alone, staring at the hallway outside. The moonlight that came through the hallway's windows dimly illuminated their face, letting him see Bea by herself. Just like when Leen had stayed behind with him, Rowan, and George, it was weird, even unsettling, to see her alone in the dark.
"Are you OK?" he asked.
Bea turned her head, her eyes landing on him, though William doubted she could see him too well. "Yeah, just … someone needs to keep watch. Without Mae here, I guess we just forgot about that."
"She'll be fine, Bea," said William. "We're talking about Mae here, alright? And she's with Tommy, the luckiest birdie alive in my opinion. They'll be fine. Brenda is also with them, and I'm pretty sure she has a bloody weapon, so that's a bonus."
"I just… if anything happened to her," Bea doubted, her eyes landing where William supposed Leen was while she ran a hand through her messy ponytail. "I wish we would have never lost them. We should have stayed with the Cranks instead of following Brenda. We don't know where they are, or if they're alive… we've lost enough people already, William. I don't want to add her — and, or, Thomas — to that list."
"We won't have to," William replied decisively. "I trust Thomas with my life about as much as I have already done with Mae. Brenda will guide them, he'll figure something out, and she will keep both of them alive."
"Yeah, she'll keep them alive," remarked Bea.
"You think Tommy would let her die? Come on, his hero complex is worse than mine." William joked, hoping to get at least a snigger from his friend, which he did. "Go back to being lovey-dovey with Leen and sleep. I'll keep watch if you want."
"No, there's nothing we can do even if we keep watch, anyway." Bea shook her head, her lips curving into a barely noticeable smile as she got up. "You go back to being lovey-dovey with Newt and sleep."
"I'll get you back for that."
"I'll be waiting."
William chuckled and gave in, resting his head on top of Newt's. The night was cold, but somehow, while being practically engulfed between Chuck and Newt, warmth crept up on him until his eyes could no longer stay open.
"You killed her, didn't you?" his past self asked someone, but their face was too blurred to make out who it was. "You didn't get sent to Probation like I was, so you must have killed her."
"I did," answered a much younger version of George's voice. "I knew it wasn't her. They don't have my sister here. They made sure to kick her out without letting me say goodbye… they said… they said Group B had enough control subjects and didn't need another one, while Group A would benefit from having me—"
If George's figure was blurry before, it changed into a dark anthropomorphic shadow. His friend's voice distorted, and where his eyes should be, there were two glowing red dots. Whatever the figure was, it wasn't George. He stepped back, trying to maintain a fair distance, but the figure simply attached itself to him, paralysing his body and forcing him to hear his friend's voice yell at him.
"It's your fault! It's all your fault!" George's voice kept shouting. "I lost my sister because of you. It's your fault that Group S was created. You doomed me. Doomed all of us!"
He couldn't say a thing, much less cry. His eyes were closed shut, wanting nothing more than for George to stop shouting at him. He didn't want to believe his friend would ever say that, but he couldn't argue when deep down he thought the same thing George did.
"You killed Dennis and that girl. What was her name? You can't even remember, can you? Just like you can't remember how you truly are deep inside. You're no hero. You're the reason they're all dead!"
Like a lightning bolt had struck him, William's first reaction upon waking up was to grip his shirt over his chest. With his eyes watering and on the verge of crying, he placed Chuck's head on Frypan's shoulder and realised Newt had already moved his head while sleeping. Not wanting to wake anyone up, William walked out of the room to the hallway. He didn't have a torch with him, nor was his sight too good, but some hits on the shoulder or broken glass pricking his jacket or trousers were the least of his problems.
His entire body burned as if he had just arrived in hell, and his mind wasn't helping much, either. George's words replayed time and time again, creating his own personal torture for that early morning. There were so many accusations, some of which he agreed with. He didn't know who Dennis was, but, judging by his memories, it was likely he was Two. Then there was Seven, whose name he did not know. Had he ever? Was there a time when he knew her name? She knew his, that was obvious, but that didn't mean he knew hers.
I need air. I can't breathe. He kept repeating to himself, though his body was cooperating in the slightest.
"Liam?" Someone called, but he couldn't concentrate on whose voice it was.
William's knees gave in, making him fall down. Two hands quickly landed on his shoulders, pulling him gently to a part of the hallway where there was no glass on the floor. Despite how badly his skin burned, the warmth he felt while being pressed against the person wasn't in any way uncomfortable. William's hands left his chest to grab onto the person's shirt while they wrapped their arms around his torso.
"You'll be fine," they said. "It was just a nightmare… It's OK. You're safe… you're safe."
Tears left William's eyes, rolling down his cheeks to his chin. Part of his mind tried to contain them, but the comforting person's presence didn't let him. He had been bottling up many emotions for quite some time, which made his breakdown worse to handle. Thankfully, the person hugging him didn't seem to mind the continued sniffs or sobs that he instinctively tried to control, failing horribly at the attempt.
"It's alright," they kept whispering, bringing a hand to William's hair to caress it consolingly.
"I …" William managed to choke out, though the entire phrase he had intended was unintelligible even to himself.
"Count with me, alright?" the person suggested, to which William rubbed his head up and down against the shirt as if he was nodding. "OK… one …"
"O–one," William said, repeating after the person all the numbers from one to five, and from five to one. "One."
"Better?"
Calmer than before, William finally distinguished the person's voice. It wasn't much of a surprise when his eyes raised to look at Newt, though. Somehow, despite his determination to leave his friendship with the boy as it was — not bringing back or up memories — he needed him. William needed and cared for Newt, perhaps in a way that would mean a great mental breakdown once he and his team left the Immunes with the Right Arm.
"I'll be," he replied. "Thanks, Newt. You always come to the rescue, huh?… Go… go get some sleep. I'll be fine. I don't want to bother you."
"You are not bothering me, OK? Get that through your bloody head," Newt said. "I worry about you, and I want to help."
"Why?" William asked, his eyes locking with Newt's. "Why do you care? We just met last week."
"Well," Newt doubted. "For the same reason Bea cares about Leen, I guess … I'm not really that sure yet."
"Newt," William began, his eyes wavering for a second as he continued, "we met last week. It's impossible to like someone that quickly."
"Trust me, I've said that to myself a million buggin' times," said Newt, letting go of William's torso, which made the both of them feel a strange coldness creeping up on their bodies. "It just doesn't work."
"We—" the sunlight peeked through the window next to them, making William realise that it would be better to stop that subject before he revealed everything to Newt. The boy simply had a faint crush on him, or that's what William hoped. "We have to wake up the rest and go look for Tommy and Mae." He tried to evade Newt's eyes as he got up, extending his hand to help the boy up. "I … Let's talk about it once we're in that Safe Haven thing, alright? Until then, we need to concentrate on keeping everyone alive."
"Good that." Newt nodded, accepting the help to get up, both becoming suddenly mindful of every soft touch or accidental brush of their hands against each other as they walked.
The sun was high in the sky, forcing the large group to walk around the shades of the buildings around the city, which Group S recognised. They had been there before to get information, but had never found anyone named 'Marcus' during their search. They let themselves be guided by Jorge as they too in the surroundings while being mindful of not staring too much to not get into a fight with the people around.
Just like their experience weeks ago, they and the Immunes weren't the only young people around. Some teenagers appeared every few minutes, and all went to the same place; a building to which a middle-aged man with short blond hair welcomed them. They had seen that before, but Janson had just dismissed the idea, saying the man worked for WICKED in his own way.
"Do you think they might be there?" William wondered out loud, making those near him, Flor and Frypan, look at where he was pointing.
"Maybe." Frypan took a step closer to see better. "Hey, aren't those three shanks them?"
Before the man William had spotted before, three teenagers stood, clearly uncomfortable; a girl with blonde hair braided over her shoulder, another with short brown hair, and the only boy with the same haircut as Thomas. They had a brief conversation with the man and then were apparently forced to drink from a flask containing some kind of green substance. Right after, he pushed them inside the building. The man chuckled as he looked at the woman next to him.
"I don't like that one bit," William said.
"We need to come up with a plan," said Chuck.
"Um, sure thing." William nodded, seeing his team look at him doubtfully before concentrating back on the rest, who were discussing with Jorge how to infiltrate and shut down the party.
Before he knew what he was doing, William's patience ran short and walked over to the building. From up close, it didn't seem as menacing. What felt ominous was the lack of lights inside it or the loud music and cheers from the teenagers inside.
The man with short blond hair stopped him before he could take one step inside. His smile made all kinds of alarms blare in William's mind. "You're here for the party?"
"I'm here for my friends. I just saw them get inside." He took a step forward but was shortly yanked back by the strangely dressed woman.
"If you want to go inside to join them." The man took the flask of green liquid out of his jacket's pocket. "This is the price of admission."
With his patience already running low, and the chatter not contributing anything to his task, William's hand went to his holster, ready to point his gun at the seemingly defenceless man. Another gun got pressed against his back before he could, though. The woman, still smiling, had pushed him with the gun, making him take another step forward.
"Drink it." Her voice was as threatening as a kitten's hiss. However, the gun on his back was a whole other thing.
William huffed and extended his hand, receiving the flask. The man's smile became fainter as he took his time to raise it to his lips. That was a good thing. If, despite how irritated he looked, he didn't take out a gun, that meant the woman was probably the only one to have it. She didn't want her possession of a gun to be known, either, as she would have made a move way earlier.
"Drink it!" The man snapped.
"Alright, alright," William muttered, raising the flask a little further.
Not letting the woman have enough time to react, he turned around and grabbed her wrist, forcing her to point the gun at the sky. With his other hand, he slammed the flask at the side of her head, knocking her out. The gun fell to the ground with her, but William wouldn't take chances. He took the gun and pointed at the man, trembling in fear while raising his arms slightly.
"Now, take me to my friends. Two girls, one boy. One of the girls has her blonde hair braided, and the other girl has short hair. The boy must have mentioned something about searching for his friends." The man's lip quivered slightly, making William smirk. "What? First time being pointed at with a gun? Just a heads-up. It's not my first time holding one, nor pulling the trigger, so be careful with what you do."
Thirteen pairs of footsteps ran in his direction. William wanted to look — make sure it was from his friends and Jorge — but he knew better than diverting his attention while trapping a rat. Even rats could fight off a cat when cornered, and he wouldn't let that one escape.
"Bloody hell, Liam. Didn't know you could do that." Newt stopped beside him, contrary to Jorge, who walked to the man.
"Hello, Marcus," he greeted.