The Storm: Chapter 18
The room erupted into blinding light as the switch flicked on. My reflex was to retreat, pressing against the door as if it offered some refuge from the sudden dazzle. A subtle click drew my attention to the far side, where the door inched open with a protesting creak. Dr. Adlai's silhouette emerged, followed by the figure of a nurse clad in green scrubs.
"What's happening here?" I demanded, my voice tinged with a mix of fear and defiance. I edged away from the door, finding solace in the farthest corner of the room. My accusatory finger pointed squarely at the doctor. "And who exactly are you?"
Dr. Adlai glanced up from his charts, exchanging a knowing glance with the nurse. With a weary sigh, he moved towards a wall lined with intricate machinery, reminiscent of those I had seen in the rooms before. Placing his charts on a sterile white table, he rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. " I feared zis moment vould come," he murmured.
"Fear of what?" I struggled to keep my composure, the sense of confinement tightening its grip on my chest. "What aren't you telling me? Who are you to me?"
" Bleaze, take ein zeat," Dr. Adlai urged, gesturing towards a chair adorned with metallic apparatus and wires, ominously positioned nearby. " I can Hexblain Hefferyzing."
"I'm not going near that contraption," I protested, my breath hitching as panic threatened to overwhelm me. "I've already made my choice. They promised I could decide." The room felt smaller, the walls closing in as I scanned for an escape. The door I entered through was sealed shut, and their presence blocked any other exit. Where could I run?
"Unfortunadely, orters haffe peen hanted dovn from higher up," Dr. Adlai lamented, his tone tinged with regret. I shook my head vehemently, refusing to budge another inch. The pounding in my ears drowned out their words, the walls of the room seeming to close in.
The nurse exchanged a concerned glance with the doctor. "Shall I fetch one of the guards? It seems they forgot to inform us of her current level."
"Nein, CHoel, let's giffe Clarke ein chance to cooberate. Infolffing zee guards might only comblicate zings," Dr. Adlai interjected calmly, his gaze shifting between us.
The nurse acquiesced with a nod, returning his attention to the intricate machinery in the room.
"Hacdually." The nurse turned to face Dr. Adlai again. "Could vu help me locate zee rest of zee bapervork? Zeems I'fe graped zee vrong file. It schould pe in one of zee dravers in zee lab."
The nurse hesitated, considering the request. "Let me call for a guard just in case she becomes..." His gaze flickered towards me, "...unwilling to cooperate."
"Ve'll pe fine, CHoel," Dr. Adlai reassured, leading the nurse towards the door. "Vu von't pe kone long, und I can manage here." With a swift motion, Dr. Adlai retrieved a small metallic cylinder from his lab coat, flashing its red button before tucking it away securely.
"Alright," Joel relented, exiting the room and closing the door firmly behind him.
"Now, schall ve?" Dr. Adlai gestured towards the chair once more, his tone gentle yet insistent. I hesitated, but the pressure of the situation weighed heavily on me. "Zee longer vu vait, zee higher zee risk of guards Hinderffening."
"You promised you'd help me escape," I murmured, feeling a pang of betrayal. "Not this."
"I am helbing vu," Dr. Adlai assured, his frustration evident. " Put vu need to cooberate. Bleaze, zit on zee chair."
Reluctantly, I complied, recognizing the futility of resistance. Dr. Adlai joined me, conducting checks with a light and pen, his movements methodical yet tinged with an air of urgency.
"Sday calm und listen," Dr. Adlai whispered, his voice barely audible as he examined the insides of my ears. " Chiyoko und I haffe ein blan to get vu out of zis facility. Vu're not zafe vith VICKED. Zey know vo vu are now, und zey rememper vat habened at zee German facility all zoze years ako."
A rush of memories flooded my mind, my mother's tear-streaked face haunting me once more, causing my heart to race.
"I remember it too. I've dreamt about it," I confessed, my voice shaky with emotion. "She had a gun, and she pointed it at me."
Dr. Adlai straightened, his expression a mixture of concern and sorrow as he met my gaze. " Vu're Hexberiencing zeze dreams?" he asked gently.
I nodded, feeling the weight of my memories pressing down on me. "They're memories, aren't they?" I ventured.
Setting his tools down with care, Dr. Adlai sighed heavily. "I'm zorry," he murmured, his tone heavy with regret. With deliberate movements, he crossed to the other side of the room, his back to me as he adjusted buttons on a large machine embedded in the wall.
"I never should have allowed her to take you with her," Dr. Adlai's change in words hung heavily in the air, breaking the tension that had gripped the room. "I should have stayed in Germany. Kept you hidden, kept you safe."
"A secret?" I pressed, desperation lacing my voice. "What happened to me, Dr. Adlai?"
The doctor's response was chilling—a deep, manic laugh that sent shivers down my spine. "It's amusing to hear you use my full name. Usually, it's just Opa to you," he remarked, his tone unnerving.
I remained silent, urging him to continue with my gaze alone.
"Your mother was brilliant, as was your father," Dr. Adlai began, his tone heavy with regret. "They were pioneers in the facility. Believed they could save everyone. Your mother formulated a cure. But when it came to clinical trials, they had to bend the rules. So they tested on themselves. Her, your father, Luca's mother, and the rest of the team. Somehow, you received the jab too. That night... I don't want to relive it. I'm just grateful you're still here."
Dr. Adlai recounted years spent trying to isolate her version of the Flare to prevent its spread. With limited resources in Germany, he made the risky decision to join WICKED, relocating myself and Luca to America for that purpose. Despite his efforts to keep us hidden, a slip-up led to our discovery and placement in the experiment as viable candidates. Trained not to expose him, we found ourselves trapped with no way out. His only recourse was to monitor us closely, concealing his past connections to Germany from WICKED.
"But then you started showing signs of the mutated Flare," Dr. Adlai continued, his tone urgent. "They think it's just the brain reacting to stress, but Dr. García is making connections. I need to get you out of here before they experiment on you."
"The other doctor said you're going to hide me away. I won't allow it," I declared, leaping from the chair and using the metallic table as a barrier between myself and Dr. Adlai. "You promised to erase my memories again. I won't let you do that."
"Diana," Dr. Adlai's voice cut through my frantic protests, his tone firm and commanding.
"It's Clarke," I corrected, my voice trembling with defiance. "My name is Clarke."
"Listen here, Diana," Dr. Adlai pressed on, dismissing my assertion. " Vu're not koing Hanyvere unless I zay zo. Zit pack dovn on zee chair, und ve can condinue."
"You're no better than them!" I choked back my rising anger. "You're not trying to help me; you're trying to control me. I refuse to be controlled!"
Backing away further, I made a desperate dash for the door, hoping against hope that it would yield this time. I took two steps, only for it to burst wide open, revealing a red-faced Dr. Takeda storming into the room.
"Filip, it's started," the doctor rasped, leaning against the doorframe to catch her breath. "If you want her out, you need to do it now."
"Right," Dr. Adlai snapped into action, snatching the file of paperwork he had tossed onto the table earlier and seizing my arm. I squirmed, trying to break free, but his grip was firm, unyielding. As he led me past Dr. Takeda and into the corridor, he thrust the stack of papers into her chest. "Don't drop zis."
"Let go of me!" I protested, struggling against his hold.
Ignoring my pleas, the doctor dragged me down the corridor, with Dr. Takeda close behind, scanning for any sign of pursuit. She quickly caught up, falling into step beside us.
"Jorge has a berg waiting in the docking bay. He's extracting the others as well," she informed us urgently. "I managed to pay him off to let you board too."
"Kood," Dr. Adlai grunted, picking up his pace, dragging me along with him. We moved swiftly, my protests ignored. Both doctors marched forward, turning corners with determination. But shouts ahead halted us in our tracks, leaving us no choice but to press on.
"They're coming," Dr. Takeda's eyes widened with alarm. "They shouldn't have known."
"Damn it," Dr. Adlai muttered under his breath, scanning the corridor ahead. He stroked his beard in contemplation, then turned to me, his expression grave. " Vu're koing to zee hankar. Understand? Vu von't leaffe undil I Harriffe. Do vu Hundersdand?"
He tightened his grip on my arm, leaving me with no choice but to nod in compliance, at least for now. He released me, pressing a wad of papers and his key card into my chest. " Take zis. Three lefts, und vu'll find Prenda. Don't loze zem. Don't get caught."
With a shove, he directed me down the corridor, away from the growing commotion. I didn't hesitate, sprinting towards my only chance at freedom, leaving the doctors behind without a second glance. I was determined not to let them take me away from everything I fought so hard to gain, from Newt. I rounded the corner and ran, fuelled by adrenaline, determined to reach Jorge before they could stop me.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
I came to an abrupt halt, my shoes skidding on the polished floor.
Go, he said. So I went.
Clutching the papers tightly to my chest, I refused to dwell on the gunfire echoing behind me. I had to keep moving, had to evade capture. I was free.
Three turns and find Brenda. The mantra repeated in my mind like a lifeline.
Three turns.
The corridors blurred together in my panic, all beige walls and endless stretches of hallway. Every turn felt like a gamble, a leap into the unknown.
As I rounded the final corner, an alarm pierced the air, lights flickering ominously before plunging the corridor into darkness. I tried to stop, but momentum sent me tumbling forward, crashing to the ground with a sickening thud.
The shrill noise of the alarm and the enveloping darkness disoriented me, leaving me dazed and confused. I lay there, willing the pain to ground me, to keep me from losing my grip on reality.
You can't get caught. Get up!
Blinking rapidly, I tried to adjust to the darkness, pressing my hands over my ears to block out the noise.
Come on, not now, I pleaded silently. I can't be caught.
With trembling hands, I reached out, my fingertips grazing the rough texture of the wall. Slowly, I dragged myself upright, my heart pounding in my ears as I fought to regain my bearings.
In the dim light, a flash of blue caught my eye, fleeting and ephemeral. I strained to see, but it vanished before I could make sense of it.
I waited, seconds ticking by in agonizing silence. Thirty heartbeats later, the darkness persisted, offering no clues, no answers.
Panic surged within me. What now? What should I do?
Wait.
The blaring alarm ceased, and the corridor was bathed in the eerie glow of red emergency lights. Glancing over my shoulder to ensure I wasn't being pursued, I quickly retrieved the fallen papers and pressed onward. Jogging to the end of the corridor, I cautiously peered around the corner. No one in sight, just a wide-open door beckoning at the next junction.
A beetle-blade scuttled past, its metallic legs clicking against the floor. Temptation flickered to crush it underfoot, but I resisted, unwilling to risk attracting attention in this unfamiliar building.
Three turns. Dr. Adlai's words echoed in my mind.
Could Brenda be waiting for me in that room? I pondered, eyeing the open doorway intently.
The door wasn't left ajar by chance.
Arriving at the junction, I leaned against the wall, scanning both ends of the hallway for any sign of movement. Empty. No one in sight.
"That's peculiar," I muttered into the silence.
Turning my attention back to the open door, I called out in a hushed voice, "Brenda?"
Silence.
"Brenda, are you there?" I tried again, the desperation creeping into my tone.
Still no response.
Panic gnawed at the edges of my mind. What should I do now?
Go in.
So I ventured forth, stepping gingerly into the room, only to find myself surrounded by an arsenal of weapons from floor to ceiling. The shelves were brimming with armaments, leaving me bewildered. Why would Dr. Adlai lead me here?
As the distant echoes of gunfire reverberated through the building, mingling with the approaching footsteps, I made a snap decision to conceal myself until the danger passed. Hurriedly, I shuffled towards the back of the room, wedging myself tightly between shelves in the hopes of remaining unnoticed as the guards swept through.
Figures materialized in the doorway, prompting me to straighten up and blend into the shadows, praying they would overlook this chamber.
"How do we know you're not in on it?" a young voice demanded from the hallway, tinged with annoyance and suspicion. His interrogation was sharp, his scepticism palpable, striking a chord of familiarity within me. It was a tone I knew all too well, one that had been directed at me before by only one person.
Curiosity piqued, I cautiously peered from my hiding place, hesitant to reveal myself fully but eager to catch a glimpse of the voice's owner. Leaping out impulsively seemed unwise, given the uncertainty of the situation. Yet, I was reluctant to let this opportunity slip away.
A flash of jet-black hair and a familiar face emerged, compelling me to step out from the shadows, my heart racing with recognition.
"Guys…" I exclaimed with joy, the relief flooding through me, albeit briefly. Before I could fully process the moment, a bolt of bright blue electricity shot towards me. I instinctively dodged, but not quickly enough; I collided with a metallic shelving unit, the impact jolting through my shoulder. Objects tumbled from the shelves above, narrowly missing me as they crashed to the ground.
"What the hell, shank!" Newt's voice rang out from behind Minho. He shoved his way past the boy and rushed to my side, concern etched across his features. Crouching down, he assessed the damage to my arm with a furrowed brow, his gaze flickering with anger towards Minho. A low growl emanated from his throat, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. Tentatively, I reached out and touched his shoulder, seeking to quell the tension brewing between them. He softened at my touch, his gaze meeting mine with a mixture of relief and worry.
"It's not too bad," I reassured him, though I hadn't yet dared to look at my injury. "Just hurts a bit. I don't think it needs to be removed."
A small smile tugged at the corners of Newt's lips, a sign that he was back. "Here," he offered, extending a hand to help me up. I gratefully accepted, allowing him to pull me to my feet. As I brushed off the dust from my trousers, I moved to retrieve the scattered papers, only to find that Newt had already gathered most of them.
"What's this?" he asked, his fingers flipping through the pages curiously. Before he could read further, I snatched the papers from his grasp, a touch too abruptly.
"Nothing," I replied, my tone sharper than intended. I winced at my abruptness. "I mean, nothing important."
Tucking the papers safely beneath my shirt, I felt a primal instinct urging me to keep them hidden until the right moment, perhaps until the doctor returned. Or maybe not even then.
"Clarke," Minho interjected, his expression filled with remorse as he tucked the Launcher securely behind him, safety engaged. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea it was you."
He took a step forward, but halted when Newt's gaze turned sharply towards him. With a nervous fumble, Minho retreated to the side of the room, avoiding eye contact as he busied himself with the shelves.
"What on earth—" Maya's voice echoed from outside the room, her steps faltering as she laid eyes on me. With a quick stride, she entered the room and enveloped me in a tight, comforting hug. "Clarke! We have to stop meeting like this."
As she pulled away, her hands remained on my shoulders, her expression puzzled. "How did you escape?" she queried, her head tilting to the side in curiosity.
"It's a long story," I replied evasively, not quite ready to confront the reality of my escape myself. "But," I interjected, eager to change the subject, "I was sent by a doctor to find Brenda."
At the mention of her name, Brenda peeked around the door, her expression equally confused. "You were sent to find me?" she echoed, pointing to herself in disbelief.
"Yeah," I confirmed, the confusion starting to gnaw at me. "Why? Weren't you expecting me?"
Brenda hesitated, searching for the right words. "Well," she began slowly, "I wasn't expecting you here."
There was a pregnant pause as we exchanged uncertain glances.
"I mean," Brenda continued, her gaze darting around the room, "I was expecting you, I just... uh..."
"Not here," I finished for her, realizing that our current situation wasn't part of the plan orchestrated by the doctor and her. In fact, it seemed like our plans had gone out the window the moment we arrived here.
"Exactly," Brenda breathed, relief evident in her voice. "We were supposed to meet you at the hangar. It was the quickest way to gather everyone without drawing attention. What happened? Where are Filip and Chiyoko?"
"I don't know," I admitted, frustration and concern rising within me. "There were guards around the corner. Dr. Adlai told me to run and find you. That's the last I saw of him."
Her eyes widened, her lips forming a small 'o' of concern. "This is not good," she muttered, her grip tightening on her Launcher.
"He gave me this," I said, producing the wad of papers from beneath my shirt and thrusting them towards her. "He told me not to lose it. I don't know what it is, but it seems important. Since you work in this field, maybe it was meant for you."
Brenda shook her head, taking a step back. "Oh no, those aren't for me. Anything handled by Filip was incredibly top secret. No one, I mean no one, was allowed to look at his documents. Keep them safe. He'll want them back. Unread."
I nodded, tucking the papers back under my shirt for safekeeping, willing to endure the discomfort a while longer.
"Look at this," Newt called from further into the room, drawing our attention. He had ventured to the untouched area where everything remained undisturbed. I turned away from Brenda, crossing the room to join him and see what had caught his interest.
"Look at the dust patterns," Newt pointed out, directing my gaze. "It's pretty obvious that a bunch of stuff was taken recently. Maybe even within the last hour or so."
Upon closer inspection, I noticed similar patterns scattered across the shelves—shapes of various equipment, some small, some much larger.
"Why is that important?" Minho interjected, hands on his hips.
Newt turned to him, frustration evident in his voice. "Can't you figure somethin' out for yourself for once, shank!"
Minho winced, more shocked than angry at the outburst.
"Whoa, Newt," Thomas intervened, stepping between us and Minho. " Things suck, yeah, but slim it will ya. What's wrong with you?"
"I'll tell you what's wrong," Newt retorted. " You go all tough-guy without a plan, leading us around like a bunch of chickens lookin' for feed. And Minho can't take a bloody step without askin' which foot he should use first."
Minho, recovering from the initial shock, fired back at the growing tension. "Look shuck-face. You're the one acting like a genius because you figured out some guards took weapons from the weapons room. I thought I'd give you the benefit on the doubt, act like maybe you'd discovered something deeper than that. next time, I'll pat you on the freaking back for stating the obvious."
Anger twisted into anguish right before my eyes. Newt arched his back ever so slightly at the verbal assault, the corner of his eyes glistening with emotion. His lips trembled as he struggled to form words, finally uttering an apology towards both Minho and Thomas before swiftly exiting the room, leaving behind a heavy awkwardness.
"Nice one," I hissed at Minho as I hurried to follow Newt out of the room. However, an arm blocked my path, halting me in my tracks.
"What are you doing?" I snapped at the owner of the arm, attempting to break free, but Poe's grip was too firm. After a futile struggle, I relented.
"Fine," I conceded sombrely. Poe loosened his grip slightly, but maintained enough restraint to keep me from bolting. He knew me well—too well. We stood in silence, waiting for Newt's return. The others carried on with their activities inside, their conversation fading into background noise as my focus remained solely on Newt. I was willing to wait, no matter how long it took. Poe was right; my presence would only exacerbate the situation. It wasn't wise for two volatile individuals to be left alone in a heated argument. We were both on edge, already.
After what felt like an eternity, Poe and I grew weary of waiting, and he gently guided me back into the room, his arm still wrapped around my shoulder.
"I hate to say it," Brenda grumbled. "He may have been right." She paused. "Seriously. That would explain a lot of things. Someone came in here and took a bunch of weapons. And I believe that someone could be more than one."
"If that's it, our problems have gotten a whole lot worse," Thomas added.
"Glad to see the guy not immune to the Flare isn't the only one with a brain that still works," Minho scoffed as he fumbled a smaller object. Newt appeared at the door. Minho glanced up from his inspection and noted his appearance.
"Next time," Minho said as he went back to fiddling with his new toy. "Just explain yourself instead of getting all snippy. Would safe a lotta hassle for everyone."
There was no hint of compassion in his voice. Poe shifted beside me, his gaze flickering between myself and Minho, silently assessing the tension between the two boys.
"I didn't think you would lose it so fast," Minho continued. "Glad you decided to re-join us. We need more than one crank to sniff out these other cranks if they really broke in."
"Don't get involved," Poe murmured, his words directed at me with an undertone of caution. He subtly shifted, making it difficult for me to navigate between the brewing conflict.
"You never have known when to shut your hole, have ya, Minho? Always gotta have the last bloody word," Newt retorted. He threw a dismissive hand his way.
"Shut your shuck face," Minho spat back, his voice dripping with disdain. The tension in the room reached a palpable level, and my nerves were on edge, a swarm of butterflies stirring in my stomach. Something was about to happen; I could feel it, and so could everyone else.
With deliberate steps, Newt approached Minho, coming to a halt in front of him. Before anyone could react, Newt delivered a swift punch to Minho's face, squarely hitting his nose. Staggering back, Minho collided with an empty weapons rack behind him, taking a moment to process what had just transpired before lunging forward and tackling Newt to the ground.
It all unfolded in a blur. Thomas was the first to snap out of his shock, rushing over to the struggling boys and attempting to pull them apart. He grabbed hold of Minho's shirt, his fist clenched tightly, while Maya joined him in the effort to separate the brawling duo.
"Stop!" he screeched, but the boys kept fighting.
Poe shoved me aside and swiftly moved to assist Thomas. He grabbed the corner of Newt's shirt, hooked his arm around his chest and yanked him away from Minho. Newt's fists still thrashed in the air as he was dragged across the floor.
"How stupid can you get?" Thomas yelled as he, with the help of Maya, shoved Minho to the other side of the room. "We're running from at least one enemy, maybe two, and you guys are gonna brawl?"
"I'm not the one getting snippy," Minho snapped, his words accompanied by a spray of blood from his injured nose. Wincing in pain, he wiped his nose with his hand. "I have my emotions in check. Unlike him."
"Maya, watch her…" Poe's voice cut through the chaos.
…
In an instant, I found myself across the room, Minho sprawled over fallen shelves, cradling the side of his face. As he peeled his eyes open, a shadow of fear darkened his expression. Unlike his earlier fiery exchange with Newt, Minho hesitated, his usual quick retorts replaced by a moment of uncertainty. With a tentative movement, he shifted his hand, revealing a small lump forming at the side of his temple, surrounded by a red mark. It was evident that he had taken a hard hit when he fell to the ground.
How did he end up on the ground?
He maintained a low stance, inching away from me with deliberate movements, gradually tracing a wide circle around me. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, he sprang to his feet and positioned himself behind Thomas and Poe, who were inadvertently forming a barrier between me and the rest of the room.
Newt was nowhere to be seen.
"What happened?" I asked, scanning their faces for answers. All I received in return was a subtle undercurrent of fear, a familiar expression that sent a chill down my spine.
"Crazy," I heard Minho mutter from behind the boys.
My jaw tensed at the insult, and I shot him a sharp glare. Maya, ever the peacemaker, lightly slapped him on the shoulder and urged him to be quiet. Minho huffed in annoyance and stormed out, followed closely by Brenda, who carried a small bag, and Thomas.
Poe approached cautiously, hands raised in a defensive gesture. "Clarke, are you alright?"
"What happened?" I repeated, my voice tinged with growing apprehension.
"You attacked Minho," he replied gently. "Do you remember?"
I shook my head, feeling a wave of dread wash over me. What was happening to me?
"I'm sorry," I stammered, my words faltering. "I didn't mean it. I don't know what happened."
"It's okay," Poe whispered, drawing nearer. "We know you can't help it."
"I just... I didn't mean it. I have to apologize," I insisted, my voice trembling with emotion. Poe held me close, refusing to let me go just yet. "I have to apologize, Poe."
"Not yet, give it a moment," Poe said softly as he guided me to sit down. I complied without protest, grateful for the stability of his presence. Maya joined us on the other side, offering silent support in the midst of chaos.
"Where did Newt go?" I asked urgently, desperate for his reassurance.
"He'll be back," Maya assured me.
"No, where is he?" I pressed, disregarding their attempts to pacify me. I needed to find him, to offer comfort in return for his absence.
Poe sighed, conceding defeat. "He went through the doors and left. I don't know where he went. I don't recommend—"
"I don't want your recommendations," I snapped, then immediately regretted my tone. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."
Poe offered a half-smile. "It's alright. We understand... about the emotions and all."
With their permission, I rose from the floor and made my way to find Newt. Poe and Maya offered no resistance, allowing me to pursue him with a whisper of black veins trailing behind me.
I burst through the double doors and nearly collided with Minho, who was being tended to by Brenda. He recoiled at my sudden appearance, his face twisting in discomfort as Brenda reacted to his startle.
"Sorry," I hurriedly apologized. I stood my ground, meeting Minho's gaze directly. "I'm sorry for hurting you. I didn't mean it. I would never intend to cause harm. I hope this doesn't change our friendship."
I glanced away once I finished speaking, feeling an odd detachment from the apology. It was as if my emotions had been muted, a strange sensation that left me bewildered.
Minho studied me, his expression contemplative as he weighed his words. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke, "You're not well. I can see that. Whatever happened, it wasn't you in control. You would never intentionally hurt someone. I know that. You're my friend, and I won't let something like this come between us. Besides, I think I might be partly to blame for this mess anyway. I'm not exactly the epitome of grace."
A hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'll accept your apology on one condition: you never breathe a word of this to anyone. I can't afford to have my reputation tarnished."
I returned his smile. "I promise."
Before he could protest, I pulled him into a tight hug. He hesitated for a moment, then relaxed into it. "You know, I think this might be the first time you've willingly hugged me," he remarked.
"Better get used to it," I replied softly. "Because there are going to be more of these, friend."
I held onto the embrace for as long as I could, savouring the moment before releasing him and patting him on the shoulder. "I need to go find him," I said, breaking away. Minho wordlessly pointed down the corridor, guiding my path. I nodded in thanks and followed the direction he indicated.
Turning the corner, I found Thomas comforting Newt, engaged in deep conversation. Their discussion halted abruptly as Newt noticed me, and Thomas turned to face me. We locked eyes briefly, and without a word, Thomas muttered something to Newt in a low voice before walking past me without explanation. I brushed off the slight, choosing not to dwell on others' reactions, as it often didn't bode well for me.
"Newt," I called softly, concern evident in my voice. "Are you alright?"
"I don't know what's happening to me. Why does that keep happening?" He buried his head in his hands, slumping further against the wall. I settled beside him, finding my place on the floor. "I can't keep going on like this."
"I understand," I murmured. Newt lifted his gaze from his hands to meet mine. "Sometimes I'm fine, and then suddenly I'm consumed by rage. It feels like I have no control, like there's a voice guiding me."
"You don't seem out of sorts," I observed.
"You don't know how hard I try to keep it together," Newt confessed. "Sometimes it's easier to just let the voice take over than to fight it."
We sat in silence, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
"Do you think I'm the one Janson mentioned? The one too far gone to save?" Newt's eyes betrayed his worry.
I pondered for a moment. He didn't fit the description that Janson had provided. "I don't know. Janson wasn't specific. It could be anyone in that room, maybe even someone else who's experiencing the same thing."
Newt absorbed my response with a thoughtful expression. "Just a thought," he murmured.
Pushing himself up from the floor, Newt gestured for me to follow suit. As we stood facing each other, he cupped my face in his hands and placed a tender kiss on my lips. Pulling back, he said, "We can be crazy together."
Releasing me, Newt walked away down the corridor, motioning for me to wait. "Give me a minute. I need to cool down. I'll meet you back there. I promise."
He winked before disappearing around the corner. I watched him go before retracing my steps back to the room.
Poe waited for me by the entrance, idly twirling an object in his hands. "Is he alright?" he inquired as I approached.
"I'm not sure. He's struggling with it," I replied with a shrug. "I don't know what to do."
"We'll find a cure," Poe reassured me. "Everything will be alright."
"Sure," I agreed, though uncertainty lingered in my mind.
Silently, we re-entered the room, joining the others.
We gathered what we could carry, each of us loaded down with weapons and supplies. I slung ammo straps over my shoulders, filling my pockets with spare rounds. A Launcher hung heavily from my shoulder, the weight making me feel unsteady. Glancing at my reflection in a nearby window, I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. I looked like a caricature of a soldier, weighed down by the arsenal I carried.
Shaking off the self-consciousness, I rejoined the others who were also finishing up. As I passed a shelf, something caught my eye—a small knife tucked away in the shadows. It was almost hidden, but my intuition warned me against taking it. There was a sense that we might need more than just Launchers at some point.
Thomas, Minho, and Poe were armed to the teeth, each carrying multiple Launchers. Brenda had a cardboard box filled with grenades and ammunition, her determination evident as she refused any offers of help. Maya, too, was heavily armed, with Launchers slung at her side.
"Are you all set?" Maya asked me.
"Yeah, loaded up on ammo," I replied, giving the strap a little jingle. "Need me to carry anything else?"
Maya shook her head. "No need to overdo it. Your chest might be healed, but we don't want to push it."
I sighed inwardly, feeling a twinge of disappointment at still being seen as fragile. But I nodded, accepting Maya's decision without protest.
Maybe it's cause they don't trust you.
"Where is that shuck-face boy?" Minho grumbled as he attempted to stabilise his load around him. "He's been gone for too long."
"He'll be back when he gets back," I firmly said, staring him straight down despite him not glancing my way.
He does eventually, and threw a hand of dismissal. "Whatever." Minho sulked off to readjust himself. Thomas caught him as he passed, grabbing him firmly by the hand.
It was only meant for Minho, but I caught what Thomas hissed to him. "You need to quit what you are saying around them. You are going to make it worse again."
"Do you remember what I told you in the truck, back in the city?" Brenda's voice cut through the tension in the room, drawing everyone's attention. Thomas released his hold on Minho and shifted his focus to her, waiting for her to continue.
"The conversation that we had," she raised her eyebrow. "About … everything."
"What?" he eyed her. "You're saying some of those things that you told me were true."
"I'm sorry I lied about why I was there, Thomas. And about how I told you I could feel the Flare working on my mind. But the rest was true. I swear it." Brenda paused. "Anyway, we talked about how increased levels of brain activity actually quicken the pace of destruction – it's called cognitive destruction. That's why that drug – the Bliss – is so popular with the people who can afford it. The Bliss slows brain function. It lengthens the time before you go bat crazy. But it's really expensive."
"Wait," I interrupted, my curiosity piqued by Brenda's revelation. "Can you repeat that?"
"Which bit?" Brenda asked.
"The part about the destruction," I clarified.
"Increased levels of brain activity quicken the pace of destruction. Essentially, any high-pressure situation can cause the levels to increase," Brenda confirmed.
I fell silent, the weight of her words settling heavily in my mind. "So what you're saying is, if I get stressed or angry, the Flare will eat my brain quicker?"
Brenda nodded slowly. "I'm sorry. None of this is ideal."
"You tell me," I said, unsure whether to laugh at the absurdity or cry with rage. "I'm going to find Newt."
"Wait, I didn't mean to upset—" Brenda began.
"It's fine," I cut in before she could say more. "I won't be long."
Leaving the room, I followed the path where I had last seen Newt, the Launcher jingling at my side with each hurried step. I sniffed back the tears, forcing myself to maintain control.
Control yourself.
High brain activity. Just think normally, I told myself. Just act normal. Stop letting it eat away at my humanity. Stop trying to turn me into one of them, so deranged that they lost sight of themselves.
It's not gonna work. You already mostly gone. You're just really good at hiding it. You've done well in that part.
Think normally.
Why? It's so easy to let go.
Think.
Control.
All you have to do is slip away. They're already afraid of you. The damage is already done.
I stopped dead in the middle of the corridor and shook my head.
"Stop overthinking," I scolded myself. "Just think normally."
That sensation—it was so unnatural to feel at ease with the idea of letting it take over and consume me. I knew it wasn't WICKED controlling me. That level of power didn't feel like their doing. Even if I had never witnessed it, I would have known the difference. They were afraid, too afraid to risk it. I saw it in their eyes as I waited. When they glanced at me, or tried not to. They knew.
Filip told you.
The deadlier strain. The mutated virus. The failed attempt at a cure. The dormant Flare that somehow synergized with the brain, stealing away its host. I remembered. What occurred before. What I endured in that room. A smarter Crank, one that shouldn't have been unleashed. So intelligent that even the computers and data couldn't detect it. A silent Crank, biding its time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. They, the scientists, claimed they sought a cure. Yet they were prepared to eliminate me because I didn't fit their expectations. They vowed to salvage humanity. But I was evidence that humanity was doomed unless they were immune. They had a choice: embrace the new human or cling to the old ways. It didn't require a genius to decipher WICKED's … Filip's intentions. They sought to eradicate the problem. I wouldn't allow that. I refused to let anyone imprison me again.
I sounded deranged. Perhaps I was already lost. Just as the doctor had suggested. Was I still Clarke? Was I in control?
No.
She smiled softly, her hand instinctively patting her chest where the pages were safely tucked underneath her shirt.
"You can't trust anyone," she murmured softly to herself.
Just then, Newt appeared around the corner, something clenched tightly in his hand. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him. How could she possibly tell him? He cared so deeply for her. His unwavering protection, his steadfast loyalty — how would he react if he knew the truth?
"He mustn't know," she whispered under her breath, almost as a plea to herself.
"What was that?" Newt raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued by her sudden shift in demeanour.
I jolted, as if awakening from a dream, and found Newt's gaze fixed on me, his eyebrow raised in silent inquiry. Dismissing the moment, I asked, "Where have you been?"
"Finding something," Newt replied cryptically, his arm hidden behind his back. "Tommy's still there."
"Yeah," I responded, falling into step beside him as he took hold of my arm, leading me back to where the others were gathered. Despite the urgency of our situation, silence enveloped us on the short journey.
"Do about what?" Newt said as he entered the doorway.
"Nothing, never mind – where'd you go?" Thomas dismissed. He got up from the box of grenades that he had been inspecting.
"I need to talk to you, Tommy. Just you. It'll only take a second." Newt motioned for Thomas to come to him.
"What's this rubbish?" Minho asked.
"Just cut me some slack. I need to give something to Tommy here. Tommy and no one else."
"Whatever, go for it." Minho readjusted the straps of his launcher on his shoulders. "But we need to hurry."
With a heavy sigh, I entered the room, hoping that Newt would include me in whatever discussion he was having with Thomas. I couldn't bear being kept in the dark, especially now, when trust was paramount.
"Everything okay?" Poe's voice pulled me from my thoughts.
"Fine," I replied tersely, my mind elsewhere as Maya and Poe exchanged a concerned glance and busied themselves with their supplies.
Moments later, Newt reappeared, picking up his box before leading Minho and Brenda away. I followed in their wake, my heart heavy with anticipation as we made our way towards the Bergs and, hopefully, safety.