CHAPTER 42

The Roundabout Way Home

The evening was an unbelievable experience for Group S. They were outside of the Safe Haven for the first time in months. Spring had rushed into the confines of the place that they were still reluctant to call home. They had felt themselves being thrown directly into a wall, astounded and gasping for air. The desire to get out grew by the day, their restless nights and waking nightmares became worse than ever. No reminder of peace could distract them. They were alone in their own hopelessness, a mutual understanding where all they knew was that nothing made sense.

In the Main Land, as they called the remains of where the Last City had been located, it made sense. They had a duty to fulfil, a mission to carry out. It could seem unimportant, but such details had changed them for the better. They had found something in the rumble of days, on the deceased, the Past-The-Gone, those who held hope to survive the cure, and the few Immunes that had escaped with their lives from the chaos of life—they had found humanity.

It was by no means a peaceful time, with no silent mornings accompanied by the beauty of a prolonged day and the end of an entrancing sunset. The Camp, where they stayed for most nights, was messy, loud, and chaotic. Cranks appeared often, and fighting them with hopeless everyday people to protect was no easy feat. Rather, it was an exhausting and apparently useless effort. But, despite it all, the loud noises were more often than not from laughter, the messiness proof that people fought to live through and through to their last breaths, and their chaotic lives a reminder, which they wouldn't have anywhere else; They were still in possession of a brief life in which no delays were permitted, no risks taken in vain, and no paths available to turn back around. As far as they knew, each passing day was all they got. No more, no less.

"Do you think they're worried? Back at the Safe Haven, I mean," Henry asked in the rumble of distant laughter.

The 'new recruits', the official names for those whom they had cured or found with the days, sat around the bonfire, chatting the night away. One of them was playing a bloodied and patched-up flute, but that didn't mean the music was any less entrancing. It worked to calm the many cured, too. Like the old woman whose veil flew in the wind, covering her tired smile as her eyes got lost somewhere in the flames of the bonfire that George and a young boy they had found earlier that day had put together.

"I'm sure they are," replied Mae with her lately overflowing calmness. "Some almost passed out when they heard about the rescue mission."

"Impressively, Thomas more than anyone, even Rachel, and she's your sister." Rowan nudged Mae lightly. "I'll have a good word with that brother of mine—"

Dennis, who had so far been minding his own business, attending to the new recruits in whatever they pleased, stopped to look at his sister. "What did I do now?"

"Not you, the other one," said Rowan with a laugh. "Tommy."

"Oh," that piqued Dennis' interest, as he sat down on the only spot available. "He only really acts like a brother towards Chuck. I'm almost jealous."

"No, he doesn't," Mae voiced to Thomas's defence. Quite the recurrent thing to happen.

"Just date him already," Henry groaned, "I beg you, it's getting tiring."

"It really is," George sided with Henry, awaiting William to declare his position on the absurd argument.

He shrugged. "You should at least tell him how you feel, though. Trust me, pushing it back doesn't work."

"You would know," Bea commented with a hint of tease to her tone. "How long will you have Newt waiting around for you to propose?"

"Until I'm sure," replied William.

"Sure of what?" Leen asked. "You love him. He loves you. You two fell in love after forgetting all about each other! What more do you need?"

William tangled his hands together in a tightly knitted grasp. "I don't know."

Laughter echoed mere metres behind him, sending shivers down his spine for as long as it took him to turn around. A couple of kids that had been playing tricksters for days, ruining Henry's favourite green and purple shirt in one of their pranks two days ago, ran around in a fit of laughter, a boy hardly four years older than them trailing not far behind. The sight of their little faces glowing in the dark of night was too good to ignore. Those kids, Immunes, the future of humanity, were what everyone in the Mazes deserved to have once been, children. Instead, they were Subjects, Elites, Soldiers. Anything but children, ought to be protected and taught the rules of life. Just one rule was explained to each of them, only it didn't apply depending on which group one was. No soldier needed to push others to the limit like an elite. They based themselves on their own survival. The others' potential was, at most, an afterthought. Just the same, an Elite would not mingle with the thought of the necessity to live in a community like the Subjects did. Their roles were marked and sealed. Like oil and water, they lay in their own little worlds, forever apart, forbade to join in the stillness of their make-shift peace.

"I miss them, though," he blurted out, a thought voiced aloud against his will.

"Me too." Flor nodded. "But I'm glad we managed to come here by ourselves. They would only try to protect us. No care if that actually helps us or not."

"It's the only way they have of helping," defended Bea. "I can still remember when Teresa apologised. 'If it hadn't been for me…' kind of bullshit, you know?"

Leen held Bea's hand tightly. "To her, it wasn't bullshit."

"I know, but it felt like it," replied Bea, reciprocating Leen's gesture with a kiss on the back of her hand. "I know most of us only ever got found by WICKED because of our Immune siblings, but that doesn't make it their fault."

"Teresa was quite the scapegoat a little more than a year ago," said Mae. "She must think you needed one, so she just volunteered for the job. Rachel did the same, and so did Thomas with Rowan, just like many others, I'm sure."

"Harriet surely did." Henry twisted the end of his poorly cleaned shirt between his fingers. "I heard Sonya did, too, with Newt. And Aris didn't have time," he laughed. "William told him to shut up before he could finish the sentence."

William gave his friend half a shrug. "Aris had no fault in it. If anything, it was me and my poor acting abilities that got us all into this mess."

"OK, let's not start with that," said George, raising a dismissing hand in the air. "I heard from Teresa what they did to you in WICKED before and after the Mazes. You're not our scapegoat."

"Oh, so we do have a scapegoat," Rowan commented with a smirk. "Who is it then?"

"Doctor Earl, our good old Commander," George replied.

A kind old woman's voice called out for a 'strong young lady or lad' to help her, which William rushed to attend before Dennis could finish his question, 'What did he do to us exactly?'. He knelt beside the woman with a kind smile and listened attentively about her problems with the veil. The cloth that was hardly sticking together with poorly and rushed handmade stitches kept on flowing to her face, and she had no strength in her arms to move it any other way.

William examined her wrist. A yellow cloth. She had to be recently cured. Actually, he did remember seeing her that morning. Rowan and Henry brought her in, along with a few more people. They had shown remarkable patience before passing on the job to Flor and George, who had been previously occupied with handling the tricksters.

The woman caressed his cheek with one of her deeply warm hands, the touch as foreign to William as a gun would be to her. He chuckled and used a few loose stitches to pull those segments of the veil closer to her hairline, without it being visible. With a smile that could warm even the coldest of hearts, she thanked him and told him to tend back to his duties.

It was a common thing among the new recruits not to ask much. Food, water, and shelter were all they required. After that, anything else could come and go. Many people, especially the kids, had taken hours or days to make a single request. Some had yet to answer their questions audibly, though they were positive one, in particular, would never be able to do so out of certain incapacity. That same respect that those who 'new' didn't fit as much with 'recruits' had towards them, the S's, made it seem, in fact, fear to those who were truly new to it all.

William couldn't help but be slightly saddened for that to be his last night at the Main Land. He did miss his family, friends, and Newt, but not the Safe Haven in the slightest. Peace was a concept he and the rest of S's couldn't fully come to terms with. They understood what it meant, and what it implied, but not how to apply it to their own selves. It wasn't for nothing that they had been the ones to pester Vince until he allowed such a delirious mission. Perhaps, seeing the vastly great results, such missions could be of use every so often. For how long? There was no telling, but he knew they would push their chances for as long as possible.

The first watch came to be sooner than expected, accompanied by a couple of Crank screeches. Not ones that could allow the make-belief that they could save two more people, though. They were clearly Past-The-Gone. To appease the recruits, of which half had woken up by the noise and were either rocking back and forth on their sleeping bags or piled against one another, a search—and murder—party was organised. William volunteered along with George. Rowan had the bad luck to roll a one with the dice they had found along the rumble a few days ago.

"Just like the old days," said George as they departed.

Rowan nodded, pulling her bag closer up her back. "Yeah, we're just missing Frypan, Teresa, and Newt."

"Why those three in specific?" William asked, curious, to which George and Rowan shared amused glances.

"Well," Rowan began, no hints needed to notice the tease in her voice, "all six of us were once searching an abandoned shopping centre. And, let's just say, we learned a lot about both Frypan and Newt that day."

"What did they do?" He asked.

George shrugged. "Nothing much. Stare. With heart eyes. Frypan at Teresa and Newt at you."

"Wow," William mumbled to himself. "I'm surprised you left Frypan off the hook after that."

"First off, I didn't have any feelings for Teresa at that time," George listed, raising a finger in front of William's face to somehow make his point come across better. "Second, I wouldn't fight him for that. I would tell Teresa and let her handle it whoever she sees fit."

The screeches of the animal-like Cranks echoed far nearer than expected. Under the rumble of a shopping centre, the entrance, enlightened only by the moonlight, seemed as little inviting as the screams themselves. Still, on they pushed, climbing rocks, sliding down fallen pillars, and making their best attempts not to trip on the thousands of ruins scattered around. It took little effort to take down the Cranks. In fact, it only required a throwing knife and a short-lived fight. No other outcome would have been possible. With only two Cranks, even with some of their senses back and brute strength, any soldier could take them down.

On the way back, Rowan refused to leave the shopping centre without rummaging through it. Since they had been in the Main Land, all scouting parties had either been for survival or helping purposes. It had been a week, and the large shopping centre remained overall untouched. They had searched at first for blankets and warm clothes, but nothing for themselves alone.

"Over here." Rowan disappeared into the broken entrance of what could only be thought to have once been a clothing shop. "I need a new shirt that's not covered in blood."

"I wouldn't mind having one, too." George shrugged and followed after.

William glanced down at his sweatshirt, tainted a dark brownish red rather than the ice blue that it had once been. He had tried to wash the blood off multiple times, all fruitless attempts. It maddened him that Aris had warned him against wearing it on the mission. He knew he couldn't have possibly left it behind, Newt had gifted it to him after winter had started to kick in all around the Safe Haven, but perhaps he should have taken it off for reconnaissance parties when the likelihood of both death and murder tainting the gift was at its peak.

"Hey, William!" Rowan audibly made a poor attempt at stifling a laugh. When she could regain power over her lungs, she carried on, "I found something you might like."

When George's snigger could be heard from the entrance of the shop, William knew, whatever his friends were going to show him, he wouldn't like it one bit. He was pleasantly surprised. Covered in dirt and mud, a simple golden ring rested on Rowan's palm, her smile wider than ever.

"Think you can propose now?" she teased.

To add to the situation, George elbowed his side, a serious facade overthrowing his previous laughter. "If I'm not the best man, I'll destroy that precious sweatshirt of yours."

"I dare you to try. I'll tear you open and use your intestines as Crank bait for the next mission." No threat could shake anybody from his group, and William knew it too well. By the time he had finished talking, George's laughter had turned back ten full. Rowan wasn't much better. "I could do it."

George patted his back like a parent to their hopeless child. "Alright, but, hey, don't you think marrying in spring is too tacky? How about autumn? I mean, just imagine it—"

"You wouldn't be saying that because you idiots placed bets on when Newt and I would get married, right?" William asked, knowing all too well the answer.

"No…" George paused for a second. "Maybe."

"I can't fucking believe you," he mumbled, rubbing his forehead with a deep sigh. "Well, hope someone placed a bet after you, 'cause I'm not proposing to Newt anytime soon."

"But you will?" Rowan insisted.

"Maybe?" William had to take a moment to breathe. "I don't know, Rowan. It's just… I just don't know. Alright, I get it, we love each other. But, still, we've hardly even dated! Give me a couple of years to get my heart prepared, for fuck's sake!"

"That's fine." Rowan slid her arm around his shoulders, bringing him down to her height. "You know? I've always thought Leen and Bea should get married first. They've been dating for longer, too. Now, the thing is, I like you a bit more than them, so if you don't want the ring, that's fine, but if you do, for whatever reason, it's yours."

William stopped to think about the offer. The ring shone with such grace despite the dirt and mud. An invisible restraint held onto his heart as he stared at it. The golden colour was unimportant under the shimmering of moonlight through broken glass, the dirty aspect as appealing as a knife covered in blood, and yet there was something about it that he wanted to attain. Some kind of innocence. A lost hope. Marriage, an old promise that had wouldn't leave him be. The questions piled up by the day. Would he feel happier if he got married? Was the promise so important to speed things up only to fulfil it as soon as possible? Did he actually want to get married? Their parents seemed to be overjoyed about it, but they had lived in a society he had hardly experienced. Perhaps marriage was more important back then. In the Safe Haven, it just meant sharing a hut with someone other than family or friends. How much would his life change after marriage? Would it at all?

"I'll have it for now, please," he finally replied, making Rowan's smile widen beyond humanely possible.

"All at it's due time, alright?" She rubbed his back and rested his head on his shoulder. "I didn't mean to bother you with all the jokes. I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable."

He shook off the thought immediately. "It's fine, really, I get it. I would too if Leen or Bea had written such a tacky letter to the other."

"Yeah, but still," said George, taking a genuine serious approach to the conversation as the light of his torch pointed at the ground, hardly letting any of them see his face properly. "You have to be so much more confused than us… I mean, sure, you remember all before the Mazes happened but… You forgot everything again. Like, haven't you gone through all you could have? You were with Thomas and Teresa, Elites, while being a soldier yourself, then went through Probation, the Maze, so young, and then all through the soldier-puppet stuff again. And, when we had all just managed freedom, you and Minho get taken, and then there's nothing left of you. No clue of who you were, or where you came from, and suddenly you were all alone in a maze. I—"

"George, breathe," William placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, shaking him just so slightly to tune his trail of thought back to reality, "I'm fine."

"No, you're not!" George grabbed onto his hand with such strength he could very well be trying to break it. "Goddammit, if I'm not fine, how are you supposed to be? You got the worst of it all! Every time! Do you think we didn't doubt you when we were asked to get a move on after you appeared? Or decided to judge your skills to figure out how difficult it would be to kill you if you attacked us first? Shit, you don't even know what I'm talking about!"

"I can imagine," replied William, letting his hand be crushed as long as George needed to hold on to it. "We were never ones to trust easily, really. I'm surprised I'm even alive after all the trouble I've clearly made you go through."

"Shut up," said Rowan. "if you're gonna start with that, shut up. None of it is your fault, and I will fight you on it for the rest of our lives."

William smiled down at her, her face difficult to make out despite it being just over his shoulder. "Hope you plan to have a long life."

"Oh, I definitely am." She smiled back. "Someone needs to keep you and Tommy grounded."

"And who will keep you grounded?" George asked with his newfound control over himself and the strength applied to the hold of William's hand.

Rowan shrugged. "We're a family, aren't we? It's our job to care for each other, so I would expect my family to keep me grounded as well."

William chuckled. "Alright… And that's a promise."

With his bag overflowing with unnecessary but clean clothes, William walked along with Rowan and George towards the outside. The moonlight fell onto the surroundings like a pale veil, enlightening only so slightly. At least each had a torch, which let them step on the right points to not go through the floor and fall down to the lower levels. In his exhaustive, careful steps, he came across a few baskets with rotten food in them, all at least a couple of years old by then. There was only one thing that stuck out among them; two lollipops. George had a great laugh when he watched William pick them up, saying no promise could ever go unpaid, even if, sometimes, the victor of them had to sacrifice themselves a little.

The overflowing bags were a great surprise to the recruits, who rummaged around immediately after having been given permission. Clothes were passed around right after. The elder woman with the patched-up veil exchanged a relatively small pink shirt she had found and traded it with one of the tricksters to get a pale blue cloth instead. William wanted to volunteer to help her, but he knew he couldn't overstep the woman's boundaries. Mae was the one to do so, as the elder woman herself asked her, while the rest of the girls covered them from prying eyes, their sight away as well. Once they were finished, they stepped away and let everyone have a glance at the veiled woman, the proudest of smiles on as she wore her newly pale blue cloth proudly, a hand weakly caressing Mae's cheek as her way of saying thanks.

"You would think we've shown them heaven," commented Dennis, seeing as everyone in Camp was overjoyed by the smallest of things—new shirts, trousers, socks, even scarfs and jackets, perfect for the remaining cold nights attacking them with icy breezes or strong winds. "We should have done this sooner."

"All at its due time, soldier." George patted Dennis' back with little regard over the name that had been overall avoided for a few months. "I think we're long overdue from looking for something for ourselves. These blood stains are never going to go away. William, Henry, would you fancy some new, non-bloodied clothes as well?"

"I'll pass today, thanks, mate," said William. "Besides, I think Aris deserves to have his 'I told you so' moment."

Henry nodded absentmindedly with a smile. "Back home tomorrow."

William reciprocated the feeling, those he held close to his heart appearing in his mind like fleeting images, perfect and unmoving, a gift that he had never thought he would manage to get a hold of before. "Tomorrow and always, for as long as they live." Henry brought him close, and there they stood, watching happily their friends, part of their own personal family, interact with the recruits, either trading, chatting, or laughing all together. "It's gonna be one hell of a good life, won't it?"

A smug grin was the perfect company to, "You can bet on it".