They woke to Thomas yelling. Cleo's body tensed, the ache in her bones signifying that she wasn't going to be able to run for much longer. Luckily, fear subsided into relief when the apparent danger was nothing but a bird picking at what little food they had been able to scavenge from the bunker before escaping.
"Are they gone?" Newt croaked, twisting so he was looking up at Thomas.
The other boy craned his neck over the alcove, turning about for a moment before nodding, "Yeah, I think we're safe for now."
"Okay, we should get moving." Minho, Teresa, and Cleo sat up immediately, stretching out sore muscles and yawning away the sleep. Frypan, Newt, Aris, and Winston took a little more coaxing.
Cleo had just pushed to her feet when Winston released a pained groan. Frypan, who stood beside him, turned around immediately, reaching out a hand to help his friend up.
"Hey, man. You okay?"
Winston nodded, but it was as clear as day. His pale skin and sweat covered forward gave him away. Cleo watched him limp to his bag, body still curled in on itself partially. Stepping away from the others, she moved to stand behind him.
"Just take it easy, okay?" She rested a hand on his shoulder in reassurance and he swallowed. Looking into his eyes now, she could feel the pain radiating off him. He looked tired, like he hadn't slept in years. Shifting her lighter back further on her shoulders, she reached for his bag.
"I'll carry it for a bit, just take it slow. I'm not sure how far we've gotta go," She blinked, "But you're going to make it there, understand?"
Winston swallowed once more and, slowly, nodded his head, "I'm okay, Cleo. Honestly."
"Cleo! Winston! We gotta go!" Thomas's voice ended the conversation before Cleo had the chance to argue with the boy, but maybe it was for the best. Guiding Winston in front of her, they began trekking on.
Thomas led them back up over the rubble, coming to a brief stop to overlook the city. The entire place was decimated. Building laid on their sides, buried underneath sad, vehicles still sitting where their owners had left them years ago.
World in Catastrophe
Still, they pushed on. Cleo stayed close to Winston, shooting worried glances at him each time he let out a jagged, shallow, groan. Sometime in the middle of their trek into the middle of the city, Thomas had fallen back, his own worry for his friend evident in his expression. Cleo silently filed him in; a single disheartened glance.
From up ahead, Frypan mumbled something back to Newt, eyeline directed at the remaining buildings towering above them, holding nothing but broken frames and collecting dust and sand. That's when Thomas stopped her.
"Hang on, stop." The others did as he said, turning to look at him expectantly.
"Do you hear that?" His voice was lower, head tilted upward some.
Cleo focused on the world around her, trying to find whatever it was he was listening for. A low humming sound. Growing louder as it came closer.
"Everyone, hide! Hide! Hide!" Thomas shuttled them all over to the debris on their left.
Moments later, the humming sound turned into a large carrier, darkening the sky above them as it past overhead. Two smaller carriers followed behind. They were no doubt looking for the escaped teens.
"They're never gonna stop looking for us, are they?" Minho breathed, sticking his neck out a bit to check if the coast was clear.
When the humming return to a dull, distant vibration, the teens crawled out from under the debris and continued on.
Winston was doing pretty well, Cleo had to admit, keeping up with the group and never stopping for more than a few seconds to take a drink. All the same, she never left his side, helping him up the steep incline. By the top of the sand dune, they were lagging behind substantially. She tried to convince herself that it was only due to how steep the trek had been and that Winston would be fine with a little rest and some more water, but she knew not to get her hopes up.
Reaching the crest of the hill with the others, they stared out at the distance before them. More ruins. More sand. More sun.
"Those mountains, that's gotta be it." Thomas announced. His voice held some hopefulness but it didn't help much.
"That's a long way off." Newt pointed out.
"Then we better get moving."
Cleo couldn't stop Winston as he dropped to the ground. She was the first to lunge after him, sinking to her knees at his shoulder as the others gathered around.
"He's hurt pretty bad." She announced, placing a hand to his forehead. His eyes fluttered closed at her touch, skin burning beneath her palm.
"What do we do?" Teresa asked from beside her. Her own hands were cradling Winston's face, comforting him.
Thomas stood, looking around them. He looked to the mountains. Then down at Cleo. She was staring at him and just like the others, waiting for him to decide.
Finally, his head jutted to the side, "We'll build a stretcher. Teresa, Cleo stay with him. Guys, let's go."
The boys slowly drifted away from the girls, leaving them to tend to Winston. They were able to get him sitting up, Cleo behind him for added supported.
"Hang in there, Winston. You're doing just fine."
Cleo was proud of the makeshift gurney they had constructed. Under the circumstances and with limited resources, it was sturdy enough to get Winston pretty far if they took turns. When the weather seemed to not agree with them anymore, things became difficult. Shielding skin from the sand whipping past in the wind, shelter was the next best option. The mountains would have to wait a little longer.
They found a small fallen structure, big enough to shield them all from the wind, and nestled inside. Winston was removed from the stretcher, and doted over by Cleo who tried to monitor him as best she could. Every now and again, she made him drink water and when his began to run out, she didn't hesitate to give him her's.
"Cleo, stop. You'll need it." He would rasp, pushing the drink away.
Shaking her head, she swat away his hand and reach the bottle back out to his lips. It wasn't helping. She knew this. But it was all she could do for him. And she would drown him in water.
It was a little over an hour before the winds died down and it was safe enough to go back out. Thomas gave everyone ten more minutes to rest, moving up the ridge behind them. After a few silent moments, Teresa rose and followed him, leaving the others to watch her curiously.
The conversation was only just beginning when Newt shouted from where he stood, "How's it looking?"
Both turned and gave his a reassuring smile.
"It's a little further!" Thomas shouted back.
Newt turned slowly, eyes shifting between the others, "That's not very convincing."
Cleo grinned, glad that things, and them, were getting back to normal somewhat. She, herself, was feeling way better than the day before, though she could use a hot meal, and a shower, and her legs were killing her. But they were alive. And for that, she was thankful.
The moment ended when a gunshot ripped through the air. She shot to her feet, stumbling away from the direction of the noise, completely caught off guard by Frypan beside her.
"Guys, get down here!" Newt was screaming and she was being hauled off to the side, eyes wide as she tried to search for the direction of the gunshot. Thomas and Teresa arrived within seconds, kicking up sand as they slid to a stop.
"What's going on?" "What happened?"
"I don't know," Frypan raised his hands, "He just woke up and grabbed the gun and then he tried to- "
Cleo's body shifted completely towards Winston. He was on his hands and knees now, hovering over the backpack. One arm reached out to his friends.
"Give it back, please."
The words sank into Cleo's chest. Her eyes filled with tears, hands shaking at her sides. No. No. No. No.
Thomas was the one to approach him, only to stumble back seconds later as Winston vomited up a thick black liquid. It pooled below him, clumping up in the sand. He rocked backwards, laying down once again. He looked so much worse than he had just minutes ago. He was dying.
"It's growing," Lifting up the hem of his shirt, "Inside me."
Black veins laced across his abdomen, the lacerations were deep and oozing with a mixture of blood and the same vile, black liquid that he just thrown up.
"I'm not gonna make it," He breathed, "Please. Please, don't let me turn into one of those things."
They didn't have a choice. There was nothing else they could do for it besides give him what he wanted. Newt was the first to step up, taking the gun from Frypan.
The others tried to stop him, watching with baited breath as he stood over Winston. Kneeling down, he placed the gun in his hand.
"Thank you," Winston smiled, "Now, get outta here."
Newt softly said goodbye and stood up. Grabbing his things, he pushed past the others and began his trek up the hill Teresa and Thomas had once been standing on top of. Frypan and Minho were next, crouching down on either side of Winston.
"It's okay." He whispered, giving them a reassuring nod. They stood solemnly and followed Newt. Teresa and Aris left silently after them.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Cleo stepped around Thomas, taking her turn to say goodbye to Winston. Her body sank into the sand, heavy with the weight of her friends impending death.
He reached out and took her hand giving it a feeble squeeze and smiled, "Good luck, Cleo."
She smiled down at him, "Goodbye, Winston."
Again, he squeezed her hand, this time with more sincerity, "Survive, okay? Somehow, just survive."
Biting down on her lip to stop the sob rising in her throat, she leaned down and placed a small kiss to his forehead. Without another word, she climbed to her feet, grabbed her things and stepped back out into the sun. Thomas followed behind her after his own goodbye, she could hear him sniffling as they trekked after the others. They had just reached the top of the hill when the next gunshot rang out.
It stopped them all in their treks, made their hearts leap into their throats. Cleo dropped her head, tears following onto her t-shirt.
The rest of the journey had been silent, save for Thomas telling everyone to setup camp within the debris of an overturned ship. They were able to construct a small fire with scrap wood and sat around eating what little food they had left.
"I thought we were supposed to be immune." Frypan mumbled, lifting heads.
Cleo chucked a small piece of wood she had been fiddling with into the fire, face showing no real emotion, "Not all of us, I guess."
"If Winston can get infected," Newt spoke next, "we should assume so can the rest of us."
Another beat of silence spread through them. Cleo looked from the flickering flames to the others around her. Each face was worn and exhausted, a mixture of sadness, fear, and hopelessness. Not completely, but it was still there. This world wasn't like the Glade. Nothing like what the expected. They weren't prepared or ready for anything that had happened or anything that was going to happened.
"I never thought I'd say it," Frypan spoke again, a single tear running down his cheek catching in the light of the fire, "I miss the Glade."
This one is a little shorter than the others. But I'm trying to space the story out as much as I can. I going to try to get it to eleven chapters like the last one, so bear with me. I will be writing my own scenes throughout so hopefully that will make the updates longer. Thank you for your kind reviews. .2016, thank you for sticking with this story for so long, I always get so happy when I see you've reviewed! Babyks2, thank you for taking the time to review, it means so much! I'm glad to see someone has the same feelings as I do. I love Newt and Minho but I can never get into stories about them.
Hope you guys enjoy! Xx