CHAPTER 40
The Old Sunset Veil ✃✃✃✃✃✃✃✃✃What was peace like? Was it like the soft breeze's continuous melody? Or the sound of waves crashing onto the sand, breaking apart and ebbing back together in a harmonious rhythm? Could it be similar to someone playing an instrument in the light of dawn? Or the smell of freshly baked goods? Maybe a smile. Or a kiss. An old woman's patched-up veil, dancing in the wind as if begging to be freed. The laughter of kids, especially newborns. And their huge eyes, always pleading and quick to be flooded with tears. So small. So fragile.
William shook himself awake, scrambling on the bed frantically like rats had infiltrated it in his sleep. He grabbed a hold of each end, gripping it with his utmost strength. His mind was hazy, unaware of anything beyond its principal concern—imminent danger. There were quite a few syringes near him, not to mention the horrendous pain his leg was in, which he couldn't even see under the sea of blankets that he had been buried under. He tossed them aside with little care, encountering a strange sight. His leg wasn't quite there. Not visible at least. A thick bandage engulfed it from his knee all the way down to his ankle.
There was no walking possible with that strapped on. The bandage alone was double the width of his leg. If he was supposed to run with that, he would fall before he ever got up. It weighed like a ton of bricks, forcing William to slide his legs off the bed in order to sit up properly.
He then analysed his surroundings, a wide wooden hut with beds placed in a neat line and medical supplies strategically placed between each one to attend to any emergencies that could occur. The cosiness he felt in there was foreign, almost out of place. The hut was no WICKED building. That much was clear from its lack of 'modern' style and grey preference on everything. And yet, he couldn't seem to breathe calmly. Every puff of air felt fainter than the last. It was suffocating. He was trapped, he thought. Trapped by his own body, weighing him down and forcing him to stay still even when he didn't want to.
Teresa couldn't have appeared at a better moment. She tried to get him back to lie down, but he refused silently. He would not put himself through that again, even if she was around. It came as no surprise to her. Many years of experience being his friend had to do the trick to know how to manage his temper. Or not. Of course, everyone had forgotten. Most of his friends had gone to the Maze, they had gone through the memory wipe procedure. They didn't remember him at all, or the person he was at that moment.
William was well aware that he had gone through the memory wipe quite a few times himself. If there was someone to be blamed for not remembering others, it was him. The more his breathing returned to its normal pace, and the hazy feeling left his mind, the more he was sure that the thought shouldn't have even been odd to him. He was quite the special case himself, always had been. Not for any other reason had his friends suffered and died as much as they had. All because of him and his existence.
"Thomas is fine, so are Leen and George," assured Teresa, which got William to lower his head. It was nice of Teresa to think he needed the reassurance, but he hadn't thought of his injured friends since he had woken up. Not one time. And at that moment, he wouldn't get them off his mind. The sole idea of forgetting his friends, who he had been so desperate to keep alive, when they were injured no less, made his insides twist. "Rowan and Henry are helping Chuck process… well, killing Janson. Flor wanted to help, of course, but they wouldn't let her meddle in. Henry thought that she would only try to protect Chuck, not help him try to come to terms with his actions."
"That's a relief," he mumbled, hoping for the conversation to end there.
Teresa decided that the list of news had not yet finished though. "Newt and Aris visited earlier today with Abraham. Mary—-she's a doctor here—didn't let them stay for long. They were making too much noise and George woke up because of them. You should have seen her face when George asked them to tone it down. She was in a rage and banned all three from getting anywhere near until the feast's over."
"Poor George, he really needed his beauty sleep," William commented. "I don't think it was doing much for the 'beauty' part, though."
Teresa simply chuckled. "I don't think he even needs any more of the 'beauty' part."
"You need glasses," he said, raising his head to make sure his friend could see as his eyebrows raised accusingly.
"Oh, right, I forgot. You're the expert on love, aren't you?" Teresa asked with a particular tease in her voice. "Just what has Newt that makes you fall in love with him every time?"
A deep silence overtook William. Teresa couldn't have asked a better question at a worse moment. If he thought rationally, the reason for falling in love with Newt was simple; he had never really forgotten about him for longer than a month. But he was an exception in that aspect, while Newt wasn't. Newt had gone through the memory wipe, got thrown into the Maze at a very young age, and suffered blow after blow in and out of there. He had more than undeniable reasons not to be even remotely interested in romance for a long while. And yet it seemed his heart hadn't hardened for a minute. The little space that had been left unattended the moment the two separated was still open for William. But which one?
Everyone had changed. That was the truth. However, his friends had changed together, met again, and got used to their new selves. William, his current self, was a mystery even to his closest friends and his own group. Why would Newt be any different? How could he be so sure that Newt wouldn't feel repulsed by the new version of himself? He was too different. The kind puppy that followed Thomas and Alby in and out of WICKED's compound to have some fun and help Newt make sure nobody died on the way was pretty much gone. He felt rougher, like his heart had been polished into a sharp sword.
Perhaps The Commander was right, emotions weren't for him. Not anymore.
"Say, Teresa…" A look into his friend's eyes evaporated every ounce of bravery in him. 'Am I too different from the old William?' did he really want an answer to that? What if she said yes? Would that mean that everyone eventually would leave him behind? If they missed his old self, it was only a matter of time before the new one ended up being hated. He didn't want to be a replacement. No worse fate came to his mind; the poor excuse of a replacement for everyone's beloved old William. "Um, how long do I have to wear that thing around my leg?"
She laughed and turned around, grabbing a wooden crutch from the emergency table next to his bed to toss it to him. "At least two months. You're going to need this."
William forced his lips into a smile. "Thank you."
The soft orange veil of dawn officially welcomed William to the Safe Haven, a small town of wooden huts and houses placed right in front of a beach. He limped across the tiny slip of dirt in constant touch with the sand, cursing under his breath for taking the crutch that Teresa had given him. He was sure he looked as stupid as he felt, stumbling on nothing, taking minutes to go a distance that otherwise would have taken seconds at his usual pace, and worst of all, the side glances. Many passersby stopped to have a brief chatter, making sure he needed no help and that he could walk on his own. William bit down on his lower lip not to curse in front of them. He appreciated the pure-warmhearted care and worry for a fellow neighbour, but he could have none of it at that precise moment.
A gentle breeze guided him back to the beach, where he sat, admiring the day turning into night. He knew he should be up, stumbling around despite the embarrassment in search of his friends. It was the right thing to do. What anybody in their right mind should do. Perhaps he wasn't all that right in the head then. When he thought about getting up, crossing hundreds of people, establishing the same 'No, I swear I'm good enough to walk on my own' kind of conversation, his legs fell back, devoid of all strength.
The old William would have surely run to search for his friends first thing after waking up tough, or that was what he kept telling himself. How little he deserved anyone's worry. They had risked their lives for him and he wouldn't put up with a little small chatter for them. It was disgusting to think about it, and yet he kept on sitting at the beach—-hating himself, dreading the moment he had the audacity to place his own needs before his friend's, but not moving.
His self-hatred was distracting enough to not let him notice the person taking a seat beside him. The person in question had not breathed a word in all the time that they had been there, nor had they done much apart from staring at him. If there was something entrancing or beautiful in his direction, William couldn't tell. It probably flew away too. He had made quite the jump when he noticed the presence beside him, making his leg hurt in the process.
"Whoa, calm," said Newt, helping William sit back down without making his leg situation worse. "You got quite the nasty hit, too, huh?"
"What?" William asked without thinking.
"The Maze wall," Newt replied, "you jumped off. At least the Griever was there. Can't believe I have something to thank those bloody creatures for."
"How do you know?" William kept his eyes locked on Newt's, which faltered momentarily. "You weren't there. I was alone… well, with the Watchers, but as far as I know, you're not one of them."
"I saw it… a tape of it," said Newt. "Vince had a spy on WICKED, and one day they sent a back-up of the Maze… we thought you were dead for an entire shucking month."
The corner of William's lips pulled up into a barely noticeable smile. "I'm sorry?"
"It's fine." Newt patted his back, showing him a kind smile before adding, "You can just make it up to us for the rest of our lives."
Who knew smiles could be powerful weapons against the right people? William had lost the first battle before even fighting it, having to remind himself how to breathe when his lungs appeared to have completely run out of air. The beating of his heart got loud enough for him to hear it in his ears, pumping as much blood as possible to his face, which got tainted with a faint reddish tone. At the very least, his dark skin could hide it well enough, or so he thought. Newt hadn't spent weeks revisiting the different Maze's back-ups to not notice the blush spreading all through William's cheeks and part of his ears.
"You should make up for it too," William replied, resting his head on his hands to have an excuse to hide his warm cheeks from Newt's intense stare. "We'll be even then."
"Fine by me." Newt's voice regained that soft hint of tease that made William smile even at the worst of times. "I guess since I'm 'The Glue', I should stick to my promise."
"Don't get down on one knee now." William let out a nervous chuckle. "You hardly even know me, Mister Glue."
Newt leaned back, placing his hands behind him to keep himself from falling over. "I know you more than you think."
"Oh, really?" William leaned back, too. "What's my favourite colour?"
A few seconds passed. Nothing came up. "Alright, that's not fair. We were running for our lives when we met. I didn't exactly have the time to sit down with you, have a spot of tea, and talk about things like that."
"Fine." William sniggered. "It's ice blue, by the way."
"Ugh, I could have guessed that."
"No, you couldn't have."
The more the minutes passed, the more the both of them leaned into the sand, chattering the evening away. William was lying down on his side, his hands under his head as if they were a cushion, when some people came to get them. Both bolted up, Newt to his feet and William sitting up. The two people looked away instantly, thinking they had interrupted more than simple chatter, and told them that Vince was about to make a welcoming speech to which the major part of the Compound was already awaiting. With his cheeks turning a bright pink, Newt assured they would be there in no time and sent off the two people, who seemed all too happy not to have to stick around with the both of them.
Around an enormous bonfire, rows upon rows of teenagers sat where they could. Just in the middle of it all, their friends sat at in different rows, divided into little groups one above another to cover less ground and be as close to each other as possible.
Chuck was the first to notice them approaching. He sprung up and waved, forcing his childish behaviour to appease his older sister, who sat just in the row above his own, a careful eye kept on him. William ignored the situation for the time being and joined his friends, letting some practically tackle him to the ground with their hugs. He was getting used to it, though. Only he would have never imagined for the most desperate ones to be from his group of all people. Not even his brother and father hugged him with such a crushing strength as George or Henry did, or as quickly as Rowan ran to his arms, or with nearly as many tears as Flor shed. Mae seemed to contain herself better, though the fact that she chose to give him any hugs at all was already praiseworthy. Not all could be good, of course. Bea and Leen were, as per usual, a pack, and they accomplished the feat nobody else could do; tackle him to the ground.
"Is this how I die?" William wondered out loud, getting Leen to slap his arm. "Ouch! I've been hit! I've been hit! Thomas! Where's Thomas? I haven't forgotten the unpaid bet we had when we were ten years old, mate! You owe me two lollipops!"
Thomas chuckled, a hand still over his stomach. "If it was when we were ten, the bet's expired."
With Bea's help, William got back up to his feet, and the crutch. "No, it's not you little…" his eyes made a little trail from Thomas's head to his boots, "Ugh, just when I thought I had grown taller than you. Anyway, bets don't expire."
"Yes, they do," Leen intervened with a soft laugh. "When the friendship's over, it's only fair the bet does as well."
"So… Thomas," William turned his head back to his old friend, infinitely more interested in his friend's reply than his previous jokey attitude could let it be seen. "Has the bet expired?"
Thomas met his eyes and with a defeated sigh replied, "If I ever find two lollipops, I'll give them to you."
Pride could be involved in his decision, but William would make sure Thomas never got to know just how important his answer had been. There was something about his friend, his first-ever friend, assuring him that their friendship wasn't over, even after forgetting him and having changed so much in six months apart, that astounded William. A warm feeling crept up his chest, but not like it had during his time chatting with Newt on the beach. It was similar, but so different at the same time. He almost wanted to hug Thomas, thank him even. Fortunately, he had a good enough excuse.
"Not even a bullet can get rid of that humour of yours." William approached and extended one of his arms—the other being forced to stay on the crutch to not lose balance—letting Thomas reciprocate the hug however he pleased. "I have to say that's good to know. But next time, don't get between a bad guy and me."
"Better if there's no 'Next time'," said Thomas, patting his back lightly during the hug before Vince's voice could separate them to take their respective seats.
Aris had saved William a spot, while Minho and Frypan had done the same for both Newt and Thomas. They could exchange no greetings between them as Vince took over soon enough. It didn't matter, anyway; they told themselves. They would have enough time to say 'Welcome back' for the rest of their lives in the Safe Haven.
"We have come a long way together."
That was a bit of an understatement, William thought. The journey had surely felt longer for some more than others. Years and years in the maze, he couldn't imagine it. He had hardly been five months in there when he gave up. Although, he was alone, while the rest of the groups had a good batch of around twenty kids to start off.
"So many have sacrificed so much to make this place possible."
He caught quite a few eyes looking his way. His friends were just exchanging knowing glances, each thinking of dozens of different people. The losses in the Mazes, either A or B, the deaths and kills after the S's memory wipe, the Scorch tragedies, and the attack at the Right Arm six months ago. All those incidents attributed two hundred people dead, if not more, to their lists, which none doubted were the same for the people in other mazes and groups.
"Your friends."
George reached up to pat William's good leg, showing him a smile as Henry also looked up at the both of them. There were so many people to look at, and so much attention to be given. Aris had Harriet's arm around his shoulders, bringing him closer to her and Sonya to celebrate. Mae was in pretty much the same situation as Bea and Leen, while Flor and Rowan simply laughed at them. Teresa and Brenda were overall quiet, probably still getting to know one another, but that didn't stop them from smiling at one another or joining in Flor's and Rowan's laughter. The 'A' boys, though, including Gally, were as silent as they always were. Smiles and pats on the shoulder used to cut it for them. It seemed as if those modest acts of affection worked even now.
"Your family."
It was odd how quickly many had moved around in their own seats to face their family. Even people such as Newt, Minho, and Thomas, whom William wouldn't have expected them to know their families, or be as affectionate as they appeared to be so soon, turn to their sisters. Of course, his thoughts couldn't be on his friends for long, as his own brother and father claimed his attention soon enough, Aris's arm sliding across his back to rest over his shoulders while their father watched, utterly amused.
"So here's to the ones who couldn't be here."
Those few who had been aware of their surroundings long enough to notice the stand of food nearby raised their mugs at Vince's signal. William watched some with envy. Aris was one of those.
"Here's to the friends we've lost. This place is for you. It's for all of us. But this—"
Just as Vince pointed at it, William realised the pillar that was just a couple of metres behind him. Not to mention the knife in his other hand, which he had previously raised, probably to get everyone's attention. At that moment, that same knife was in the pillar's direction, still, and waiting for its time to be used to honour a memory. Many memories, in fact.
"This is for them. So, in your own time, in your own way, come make your peace."
Vince jabbed the knife into a wooden log and raised his mug, getting half the crowd to anticipate his words with a great roar.
"And welcome to the Safe Haven!"
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