Nine : Cold
Newt POV
Tommy paced back and forth anxiously with his arms folded over his chest and chewing the nails of one hand. Minho sat on the ground leaned up against a tree, his bad leg out in front of himself. I stood with my hands in my jacket pockets, carefully watching both boys. The cold was creeping in, despite our multiple layers and near deadly accident. My head ached from my collision with the dashboard and the dried blood on my hands had begun to flake off.
'We need to keep moving." Thomas finally stopped pacing and turned to face Minho. "We'll move at your pace, I don't want us getting separated."
"This sucks…" Minho sighed and stared over at the totaled hummer. We had only shaved 30 miles off our total trip, leaving another 70 to go at least. I dread the next several days. Hiking slowly through the snow would be painful.
"I have our backpacks full of everything that would fit, and what I could salvage. We each carry a blanket and pillow, I'll carry the tent." Thomas said and lowered a hand to Minho. "We have to keep moving, otherwise the cold will set in."
"Whatever you say." Minho grunted, a pained expression coming over him as he struggled to stand. I knew that pain, and my heart hurt for Minho. But he wasn't one for charity and he shoved off Thomas' offer of support. I reached down to pick up the pillow and blanket bundle at my feet. My fingers were already going numb and I buried my hands in the blanket. Minho started walking back towards the road, following the large gouged out tracks of earth. We'd follow the road and the signs leading to Fairbanks, but now we were on foot. I looked back at the crumpled form of the hummer. It would have been too easy for us to have it the entire trip. This was WICKED we were dealing with afteral.
The forest around us was completely silent. No birds or animals, no other signs of human habitation. It was just us three. We trekked through the ankle deep snow, leaving a small trail behind us. Minho led the way and Thomas was behind me. No one said a word. Only the crunching of snow under our shoes and our labored breathing.
Thomas was right; moving definitely helped keep the cold from overcoming us. But it was still there. Stealing the warmth from our breath, slipping under our shirts, penetrating deep into our legs. It seared my chest with a million needles with every breath.
Minho limped heavily in front of me. His knee was in pretty bad shape. My thoughts drifted back to the glade, back to that stupid wall. Back to when Alby had found me.
"We'll need to rest soon." Minho panted and I blinked, snapping back to reality. He stopped a few feet ahead of me and looked back at us. "It's already 2 pm."
"Let's pull over then." Thomas nodded and gestured to a spot off the road. Minho didn't hesitate. He hobbled over to a large tree and took off his pack, dropping everything next to it. He slowly sat down in the snow, panting heavily. I sat down against a tree next to him, Thomas picked a tree across from us. We caught our breath for a few minutes. Even with my long sleeve shirt, a hoodie, and my jacket, I was still shivering. I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering. My feet were numb, my hands were numb, I was fairly certain my lungs were numb.
"How far do you think we've gone?" Minho sighed as he rubbed his knee. Thomas was rummaging through his pack. He pulled out a pack of dry raman, pulled the wrapper off, and crunched into it. I pulled my own pack close and looked through it. A can of tuna caught my eye and I grabbed it, suddenly realizing just how hungry I was. Minho had gotten out his own raman, crunching loudly.
"Maybe…5 miles?"
"Dude, we're gonna be out here for weeks…" Minho groaned. I chewed my tuna, glancing over to Thomas for his reaction.
"If we can knock out ten miles a day, it's only a week." He frowned, shaking his head.
"We can't do ten miles a day, not like this." Minho gestured to his leg. "And you know it."
"We can still get close."
"If we get at least 5 miles down each day, that's no more than two weeks." I finally interjected. They both looked over at me. "We can do that, maybe more. We'll make it."
"If our food lasts that long." Minho glanced longingly at his pack.
"We can always hunt or fish." Thomas said and Minho rolled his eyes, leaning his head against the tree. I looked over at Thomas. In the 7 hours we'd been walking already, the only animals we had seen were the two moose that wrecked us. I highly doubted we'd get the chance to shoot down a deer, or whatever he was hopeful to find. But my grumbling stomach hoped he was right. Rice, tuna, and raman wouldn't get us very far; not in this weather, not with the physical work we were doing.
Tommy POV
We had walked another 2 miles or so before Minho finally announced he needed to quit for the day. Such a fresh knee injury had to be painful, but I was glad we had made some progress today. We pulled over off the road again and found a small clearing surrounded by trees to make camp. Minho sat down and propped his leg up on his pack. Newt was kicking away snow to expose the bare earth, creating a large circle about 15 feet across. This was where we'd pitch the tent and start a fire.
"I hate the cold." Minho grunted from behind us. Newt smirked and looked over at me. "I'd rather deal with heat than cold."
"I'm with you on that one." I nodded and crouched down with the tent bag in a cleared away patch of ground. The label said it was a pop up tent, one that didn't need us to mess around with stakes or anything. I slipped it out of its bag and began unfolding it. After a minute or so, it began to unravel itself. Portions were lifting up into the shape of a tent and I excitedly helped it along. Eventually, a fully deployed tent stood ready for us.
"Not bad," Newt said and I looked over at him. His cheeks were flushed from the cold. "Now let's get that fire started."
The fire pit was the easiest part. Minho and Newt were pros at both getting a pit made and starting a fire, having done it hundreds of times in the glade. All of our blankets and pillows were thrown into the tent, along with our backpacks. Now we set around the fire, desperate to escape the cold.
"You know what I just realized?" Minho said tiredly. Newt looked up from the fire. He sat next to me. "We have all this rice, but no pot to cook it in." Newt's eyes flicked to me.
"Can we make one?" I asked tentatively. Minho snorted.
"Out of what?"
"I don't know." I sighed, lifting a hand to rub my eyes. He was right. Out of all the stupid things to forget to grab…
"The tuna can?" Newt asked, reaching into his bag and pulling out the small, empty can.
"That would work." Minho brightened and motioned for Newt to give it to him. Newt tossed it over. "It's small, but it will work." He packed a bunch of snow into the can and carefully set it on some hot coals to melt.
…
The sun was setting now. The trees slowly cast long shadows across the frozen forest until they eventually disappeared. The temperature was dropping along with the sun. Minho had retired before us, saying the walk and his knee had killed him. He was somewhere in the tent behind us now.
Newt and I hadn't said much. He watched the fire quietly, its light dancing across his form. Dark shadows had formed under his eyes again, making him look just as exhausted as I felt.
"Newt?" He looked up. "You okay?"
"Yeah, just thinking." He glanced down to the tuna can sitting in the coals, his rice just about done. He used a long stick to carefully push it out to cool down.
"About?"
Newt hesitated for a moment, watching the fire again. "It's still fuzzy, but I think I remember my little sister." My heart skipped a beat. His little sister? The memory from before, before he had jumped off the wall, in the Dead Heads…I knew about this little sister, I was sure of it. I swallowed hard, trying to cover my shock.
"You have a little sister?"
"Lizzy," Newt said quietly but wouldn't look at me. He reached out and carefully nudged the tuna can, testing its heat. He picked it up and dumped the excess water out and began to eat. "They wanted her first, they only took me along because I fought them. A control…" Newt frowned, his dark eyes finally looking up.
"A control?"
"I don't know, I can't remember. But she was there too."
"In the glade?"
"No, somewhere else." Newt sighed heavily, his breath fogging in front of him. "Doesn't matter now, does it? We're stuck out here, WICKED will restart phase 1, and we probably won't even remember this bloody place."
"What was Lizzy like?" I asked, desperate to derail his thought train. Newt paused, his eyes looking up at the dark treetops as he thought. A small smile slowly formed on his face.
"Brave, selfless, stubborn…" He looked back down at the fire, his smile falling. "She always tried to comfort me, even though I was older." We were silent for a moment, the fire crackling and popping. I reached out and set a hand on his trembling arm.
"We'll find her. Don't worry, we'll get her out, I promise." He looked over at me, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He blinked them away, nodding as he looked towards the fire again.
"Thank you, Tommy."