Annie's heels clicked on the concrete floor as she looked down at her tablet, absentmindedly avoiding others walking through the hallway. The place was buzzing with activity; change was on the horizon, and everyone could feel it. Her eyes grew wider and wider while she re-read the e-mail she had just received.

"Ava Paige is the new Chancellor of WICKED, effective immediately."

Her mom, Chancellor.

Her heart beat wildly within her as she walked faster to her mother's office. She had to hear the news, in person. Maybe someone was playing a rotten practical joke, had gotten hold of Thomas and Chancellor Anderson's tablets. Outside the door she raised her hand to knock, but it opened before she got the chance.

Her mom stood on the other side, face beaming.

"Come in!" She said.

Annie entered and walked to the couch like usual but found herself too agitated to sit. Her mom's excitement was contagious, and she had to resist the urge to launch into a thousand questions.

"What's going on?" She asked. "What is this?" She pointed at the open e-mail on the tablet.

Ava's eyes sparkled as she grabbed her daughter's hand.

"It's all set Antoinette. As of this morning, I've been named as new Chancellor." Her eyes searched her daughter's, waiting for her expression to mirror her own.

That made it real enough. The corners of Annie's eyes crinkled, and a wide smile broke out on her face.

"That's amazing news mom!" She squeezed her mom's hand enthusiastically and pulled her into a hug.

"I know," Ava said as she rubbed her daughter's back. "Me, in charge of all of WICKED." She pulled back and brushed her hair out of her face. "We're going to help so many people. Finally, I don't have to go through Anderson anymore."

Annie's face paled. In the excitement she had forgotten that part.

"So it's true?" She asked. "He had the Flare all along?"

Ava nodded sadly. "He kept it hidden well, but the truth must always eventually come out."

"And you?" Annie asked quickly. "Are you …?"

"Clean. Cleared for service."

She let out a large breath. "Oh thank God."

"We will do some real good around here Annie. The Maze variables are giving us tons of data, Thomas and the others are progressing nicely … this is the first time in a long time I have actually felt hope."

"I don't know why you ever doubted." Annie held up her arm, the one with her watch on it, and smiled.

"WICKED is good."

XXXXX

Newt awoke, unsure where he was, until the soreness in his back reminded him he had, in fact, spent the night in a car.

He opened his eyes and saw the sun coming up in the east, spreading its light on the top of the hill he had parked by for the night. He brought his seat up, looked out the window, and rubbed his eyes.

They were in the middle of a desert. The ground was an earthy, rusted orange, dotted with small green bushes and prickly cacti. The blue sky overhead was cloudless. It would be a hot day.

He looked over at the seat next to him. Annie was still gone.

He stretched his arms up, rounding his back as he tried to work out the kinks. He had slept well even if he had been uncomfortable. His chest was sore, and he ran his fingers absentmindedly over the stitches as he thought about the previous night.

He had felt so angry. He was still angry. He had always thought of himself as being easy-going, but now he wondered if this side of him, this anger, had always been just below the surface, waiting for its chance to come out.

Or, he thought, maybe it's the Crank we've caged trying to break free.

He looked around, but saw no signs of his companion. He knew he had to find her even though it grated on his pride to do it. He damn well wasn't going to apologize, that was for sure. He wasn't sorry for what he had said to her. Everything had been true. But, he wasn't so heartless as to leave her out here alone.

She was a Greenie after all.

He opened the car door and swung himself out. The hill was steep, but he managed the climb with little trouble, only slipping once or twice on the loose rocks. As he crested the top he saw Annie sitting cross-legged, watching the sun come up.

He sat down next to her and pulled his knees up.

"All right?" He asked after a moment.

She turned to him, eyes puffy and red. "I don't know. Is it?"

He said nothing, just looked out over the expanse. He wanted to tell her it wasn't, that he was still angry. He wanted to shake her until all her secrets fell out.

Instead he said, "I don't hate you, you know."

She snorted. "Oh, thanks."

"I mean it," he said. "You're not the one I hate."

She tilted her head and looked at him. "You mean my mom though, right? You hate her?"

"Well …" he picked at rocks near his feet, lifting them up and dropping them down again. "We've always had an enemy to fight against, you know? And that enemy is WICKED. Your mum, well, she was its face. To us, she became WICKED."

"I see."

"It's just kind of hard to find out the person who saved your life is the daughter of the one who tried to end it."

"But my mom never killed anyone."

"Debatable," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "Her hands are not clean Annie. But you understand, yeah?"

"I just … didn't want you to find out that way," she said.

"Was I ever going to find out?" He asked. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

She frowned, shaking her head. "Probably not."

He ran his hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not going to pretend I'm okay with it because I'm not. I'm not going to pretend we're okay, because we're not. But I'm also not going to leave you out here in this bloody desert to fend for yourself."

He stood up, dusted off his pants, and held out his hand to her. "Let's make a deal. You don't keep any more secrets from me, and I'll make sure we both make it to the Safe Haven. We don't have to be friends, but we can still watch each other's backs."

Annie held out her hand and hesitated before slipping it in his. "Deal."

Back at the Jeep Newt opened his bag and pulled out a shirt, waving it in the air a few times to get the wrinkles out. He held it up to his nose and sniffed.

"Good enough," he said. He pulled off his shirt and threw it in the bag.

"The stitches look good," Annie said, eyeing him. "Bit of bruising though."

He shrugged into his new shirt. "Yeah and the bloody Nexophan is gone. Hope those shanks enjoy it."

Annie grabbed her bag and pulled out a shirt. It was a plain T-shirt, one Newt had picked out for her. She grabbed the hem of her shirt, and then hesitated, looking at him.

"A little privacy," she said.

He rolled his eyes in jest but turned around and crossed his arms.

She pulled the new shirt on and quietly sighed with relief. The clean fabric felt marvelous against her sticky skin. She put her jacket back on and threw the old shirt back in her bag.

"All right, I'm good."

He turned back around and got into the Jeep. He turned the key, and the car whined in response before starting.

He groaned. "We're low on petrol," he said. "Can you look for a map?"

Annie opened the glove compartment and pulled out a thick, folded paper. "This?"

"Yeah," he said. "Can you open it and find the nearest city?"

She unfolded it on her lap. "Where are we now?"

He leaned over and began tracing his finger on the paper. "I think we're about … here." He said, pointing at a spot in the middle of the desert.

"And you want to get to …" her eyes searched over the map. She looked confused. "Where?"

"Do you not know how to read a map?" He asked.

"No, my phone had an app," she said. "Do you?"

He thought back to the Glade, to the piles and piles of papers they had pored over for years and smirked. "Yes, I think so."

He found the nearest town – Redwick Creek – a small dot on the map southwest of where they were. He put the car into drive and headed toward it.

The surrounding area had no roads, just miles of open, uninhabited land. A cloud of dust trailed after their Jeep, and Newt pulled his scarf up over his face. While he drove, Annie pressed the power button on the stereo system. Loud static blared through the speakers, and she quickly turned it down and scanned through the stations. There was nothing, except for an AM station with a man saying the end was nigh and that sinners should repent and be saved.

"God, I wish we had some music," she said. She turned off the radio and looked at Newt. "What kind of music do you like?"

"Huh?" He pulled down the scarf.

"Music – do you like music?"

"Oh." He frowned. "I, uh, sure? I think so?"

"You don't know?" She asked, laughing.

"Don't remember," he said.

"Oh," she said. "What's that like?"

"It's uh …" he paused, trying to find the words. "Bloody weird. I can remember some stuff, world events, the names of things. But it's like … waking up and grasping at the whispers of a dream you've already forgotten." He stared out the window, and Annie thought he looked sad.

"I'm sure you do," she said. "Everyone likes music. I peg you as … a Clash fan. They're unapologetically British, like you."

"What do they sound like?" He asked.

"Loud. Rebellious. Lots of guitar."

"That sounds all right," he said with a grin. "Do you know any of their songs?"

"Um," Annie paused and then began to tap out a beat on the dashboard, singing a few lines from one of their hits.

Newt looked over at her once she finished, fighting a smile. "That was bloody awful." He burst out laughing.

"I never said I could sing!" She protested.

They went on like this for the next several miles, Annie asking Newt about his interests, him not remembering exactly what he liked or didn't like. She continued to guess for him until she painted an image he wasn't sure was accurate or not.

He knew he liked being outside; he knew he liked spending time with his friends. He knew there was a sport called football though he couldn't remember which team he had rooted for. He knew he did not like being lied to or controlled, or his friends being threatened.

After awhile the outskirts of a small town came into view, growing larger and larger until they stopped just outside it.

The town was more of a dirt road with dilapidated buildings lining its street than an actual city. A banner with multi-colored plastic flags stretched across the entrance, flapping in the late morning wind. Newt drove under it, keeping his eyes peeled for somewhere they could fill up.

Slowly they went down the strip, passing a post office, a general store, and a boarded up ice cream parlor before stopping in front of a rundown mechanic's shop.

Newt leaned around his seat and rummaged in his bag. When he turned back around, he was holding Annie's gun.

"Do you think we'll need that?" She asked.

"Let's hope not," he said.

He got out and tucked it into the back of his pants and then walked up to the building. Unlike the others it was made of metal, and the rusted door opened easily, its hinges creaking as it swung out. Inside, it smelled like stale oil and old rubber. Thick dust covered the windows, choking the air with its dry, musty taste.

They explored the room, looking under desks, behind stacks of tires, and under lifts, but neither could find a can of gas.

"Let's look out back," Newt said.

Behind the shop there was a small lot with a chain-link fence around its perimeter. Some cars in the lot had rusted, and most were missing tires and windows. They looked like they had been abandoned ages ago. Newt walked by each one and stuck a crowbar down into the gas tank, testing to see if it came back wet.

"Aha," he said, as he pulled it out of a red Camaro. "Go back inside and see if you can find something to siphon this with, would you?"

Annie went back into the shop and looked around for a rubber hose. She found one sitting on a workbench and picked it up, accidentally knocking off a screwdriver that had been lying on top. Something sounded in the rafters above and she saw a bird escape through a hole in the roof, cawing at her as it flew out.

Her skin tingled, and she felt a sudden urgency to get back to Newt. She grabbed an empty motor oil can and went back outside, handing the items to him.

He stuck the hose down into the gas tank and sucked on the end until pale yellow liquid ran up the tube. He took his mouth away quickly and stuck the end into the tin can.

After a minute it overflowed, and he crimped the hose and pulled it out of the car. He carried the can back around the side of the building to where they had parked and set it down next to their Jeep.

"Want to see if there's anything else here before we go?" He asked.

She did not want to, but decided she'd follow his lead. They crossed the street and went into the general store.

A bell on the other side of the door jingled as they entered. The store was mostly empty, but they went down each aisle, looking for anything that might be helpful. Annie picked up a package of expired trail mix while Newt took a Zippo lighter off of a rotating rack.

"Got any cash?" She joked as they walked by the register.

Outside they went back to the car, and Newt began to fill the tank with gas. Annie hovered nearby, moving from one foot to the other as she watched him.

"What's wrong?" He asked her.

"I have to pee."

"There's a bathroom behind the store," he said. "I saw a sign inside."

Annie hesitated, but couldn't wait any longer. She went around the side of the building and stopped in front of what was basically a glorified outhouse.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said.

She opened the door and a swarm of flies flew out. She shook her head, muttering as she latched the hook on the door behind her.

She pulled down her pants and hovered over the hole, silently praying that there were no snakes hiding beneath her. She finished and went to the sink to wash her hands, but no water came out.

"Great." She put her hands on the sides of the sink and saw her reflection in a tiny mirror hanging on the wall.

Her mouth fell open. She looked terrible. Her eyes were still swollen from crying, and her hair, usually perfectly curled around her shoulders, was a tangled mess from sleeping outside all night. She raked her fingers through it, flinching as she pulled through the knots, when Newt knocked on the door.

"Just a minute!" She called out.

She wasn't used to looking so disheveled, and she felt embarrassed even though the only person who would see her was Newt.

Resigned to the fact that without a shower and a gallon of conditioner this was as good as it would get, she unlatched the door and stepped outside.

A heavy weight dropped in the pit of her stomach. She felt goose bumps prickle her skin, despite the hot noon sun beating down on her.

It wasn't Newt.

She swallowed hard, looking at the woman in front of her. She might have been pretty once, but now she was missing half of her mouth, exposing grey, chipped teeth underneath. A thick, tarry liquid dripped from where her lips should have been, falling in droplets on the dusty ground below. She shifted back and forth, watching Annie with hungry, feral eyes.

"Newt," she choked out.

Back at the car, Newt was screwing the cap on the gas tank when a strangled scream came from behind the building, making him jump. He dropped the can and hurried around the side, panting as he rounded the corner to the back.

He clamped his hand to his mouth and everything went into slow motion.

Annie was on the ground. Straddling her was a woman - no, not a woman. A Crank. She had Annie pinned down, her grotesque mouth inches away from her face, snapping at her and sending black spittle everywhere - onto Annie's face, her hair, into her mouth as she screamed for help.

"Newt!"

Everything snapped back into focus. He reached behind his back and grabbed at the cool metal object under his shirt. He raised it, hand shaking, into the air.

He plugged his ear and tugged on the trigger. The noise echoed off the buildings, rang in his ears, and the Crank popped her face up, looking for the source of the sound.

When her eyes caught Newt she snarled and jumped off of Annie. She ran toward him, eyes wild with bloodlust and rage.

When she was only a few meters away, he lowered his arm.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

A second shot rang out, and she crumpled to the ground, dead.

He dropped the gun and ran over to Annie, kneeling in the dirt by her side.

"Are you all right?" He asked. He turned her arms over, pushed her head this way and that to look for wounds.

"I … I think so," she said. Her body trembled with shock. She pushed herself up on her elbows and looked at Newt. "You saved me," she said breathlessly.

"Consider us even," he said. He looked around. "We should get back to the car in case there's more. Are you all right to walk?"

She nodded, and he helped her up, but she swayed forward, and would have fallen to the ground again if Newt hadn't been there to steady her.

"Mother –," she hissed.

"What's wrong?" He asked. He gently set her back on the ground.

"She got me," she said between clenched teeth. "My leg." She leaned back and pointed.

Newt lifted the hem of her pants. Under the fabric were five deep, red lines running down the side of her calf toward her ankle.

"We gotta get you back to the car," he said. He helped her up and slung her arm around his neck, stooping down as they hobbled back together.

He lifted her into the backseat, and she leaned back, holding her leg out the open door.

"What do I do?" He asked. All of their medicine had been taken back at the city. He eyed her leg anxiously. He knew how quickly a Crank scratch could get infected even if you were an Immune.

"Alcohol," she said between panting breaths. The shock that had kept her from feeling the injury was wearing off, and the pain was setting in. She squeezed the side of the seat and closed her eyes.

Newt opened his bag and pulled out a bottle of liquor and towels he had grabbed from her kitchen back at the apartment.

"What now?" He asked.

"Pour it," she said.

He unscrewed the cap, hesitating as he held the open bottle above her leg.

"You sure?" He asked.

"Just do it."

Annie had seen people in pain before, had read about horrendous injuries in her medical textbooks. But nothing she had seen or read could have prepared her for what she felt now.

Her leg was on fire, and Newt had lit the match.

She arched her back and slammed her fist into the back of the driver's seat, over and over again as he continued to pour.

"Damn it Newt!" She cried.

"I'm sorry!"

She tilted her head back, squeezed her eyes shut as the sky above her spun. He poured the last of the bottle and then tossed it onto the ground behind him.

"Are you all right?" He asked.

"I will be. How … how does it look?" She sat up and rubbed at her face, wiping away tears.

"About as good as that felt," he said. "What do I do now?"

"Get my bag," she said. "Get my scarf out."

He did as she said and held up a length of black cotton.

"You'll have to do it," she said.

She jerked violently as the fabric touched her skin, and Newt gave her an apologetic smile as he wound it around her leg. He tied it off with a thick knot and stood back.

"How's that?" He asked.

"Good enough," she said. "Guess we both have fucked up legs now."

"Finally, something in common." He winked at her and helped guide her leg back into the car before going around to the driver's side door.

They continued to drive in silence, except for Annie grunting every time Newt drove over a bump. He tried to talk to her to keep her mind off the pain, ask her questions about frivolous interests. But after awhile her answers were coming less frequently, and he looked in the rearview mirror to see that her eyes were closed and her face had become pallid, gleaming with sweat.

"We can't keep going like this," he said. "We have to stop."

But there was nowhere for them to go. He didn't want to risk stopping in a city again, in case they ran into another Crank. The sun was setting, and he turned on the headlights. The desolate landscape went on for miles, reminding him they were alone, just the two of them, the half-Crank boy and the Chancellor's daughter.

Annie was no longer responding to him. He thought about pulling over for the night, starting a fire and seeing if she could be roused long enough to eat. His foot hovered over the brake when he saw something flickering in the distance. He rubbed his tired eyes, but the light remained. He pushed down on the gas again and headed in its direction, hoping it wasn't an illusion of the night.

When he got closer, he saw it was a farmhouse – or something like it. A lantern was hanging outside the front door, swaying in the breeze. He stopped the car next to a wooden fence and hopped out.

He walked up the dirt path to the porch and raised his hand to the front door but hesitated. He didn't know what might be inside – was this a risk he wanted to take?

He knocked. No one answered, and he knocked again. He stepped back, looking for signs of life inside. A lantern went on in an upstairs room and then disappeared. He thought perhaps whoever was there was going to pretend they weren't home when a man opened the door. He held a lantern out in Newt's face, making him blink.

"Yeah?" The man asked gruffly.

"Sorry. I'm, uh, Newt," he stammered. "My friend - she's hurt. She's in the car, over there." He jabbed his thumb behind him.

"So?" The man said.

"We need help. She's not well."

"You's Cranks?" He asked.

"She's Immune," Newt said.

The man squinted at him, then, seemingly deciding he looked trustworthy enough, nodded and grabbed the other lantern outside the door, handing it to Newt.

"Show me." He said.

Newt turned around and went back down the dirt path with the man following behind him.

At the car the man gave a low whistle. "Your friend doesn't look too good," he said.

Newt almost thanked him for stating the obvious, but held his tongue.

"Can we stay here tonight?" He asked instead. "I don't know where else to go."

"Well, uh …" The man hesitated, looking back at the house and then at Annie. "Sure." He said. "You can stay in the barn."

He opened the door and put his arms under Annie, scooping her up and carrying her back toward the house. Newt hung his lantern back on the hook and went in behind him.

In the faint light, Newt could see that the rustic house was decorated simply, and had a certain homespun appeal. The room they were in smelled like pipe tobacco and cedar, and he noticed an old wagon wheel hanging above a pot-bellied stove.

"Frank?" A woman entered the room, stopping just inside the doorframe. She wiped her hands on her apron. "What you got there?" She asked, looking at the trio.

"This one here just came knockin' on the door," the man named Frank said. "Said his friend was hurt. What's her name, uh, Newt?"

"Annie," he said as he hovered nearby. "Annie Williams."

"She doesn't look too good Frank," the woman said.

"I know. Told him they could stay in the barn tonight."

"Nonsense," the woman said. "Look at the state of her." She suddenly looked to her left. "Hey you two – get back to bed!"

Newt looked over. A teenage boy was watching them from the entrance of a dark hallway, standing next to a girl who looked about five or six years old. They didn't say anything, and turned back around.

"What happened to her?" Mary asked as Frank laid Annie down gently on a sofa.

"She was attacked," Newt said. "By a Crank. We cleaned the wound but …" his voice trailed off.

"Go to the kitchen Mary," Frank said.

She obeyed him without question, and came back with a glass bottle full of a murky liquid, and stained rags.

"What's that?" Newt asked as the woman approached.

"Old family recipe," she said. She sat down and unwound the black cloth, peeling it off her wound. She clicked her tongue. "Oh heavens, that does not look good. Have a seat young man. This will take a minute." She said.

Newt sat down in a nearby recliner and watched as Mary gently worked on Annie's leg. Annie stirred, murmuring something, but did not open her eyes.

"You can stay in here tonight," Mary said. "We'll take a look at her again in the morning."

"Thank you," Newt said sincerely. "Really."

"Let me get you some blankets," Mary said. "Frank? Get the boy some of Tyler's things. Think they're about the same size."

Frank left and came back a few minutes later with a shirt and a pair of soft pants for Newt. Too tired for modesty, he changed in the middle of the living room.

Frank eyed him curiously. "What happened to you?" He asked.

Newt decided in that moment that these were not people he wanted to lie to.

"I got stabbed." He said.

"Is that right?" Frank asked. He raised his eyebrows and made a humph sound. He continued to look at Newt but did not ask more about it. "I'll have Mary take a look at that tomorrow," he said. "You two just get some sleep tonight."

"We will," Newt said.

Mary came back with blankets, and then her and Frank disappeared down the hallway, the light of the lantern slowly fading until the room was filled only with cold, pale moonlight. Newt sat down on the floor next to the sofa and looked at Annie.

He had been so mad at her that morning. Now he was waiting on the hope she would survive the night. She looked almost peaceful, and he wondered what Mary had used on her. He picked up the bottle and took a whiff. He grimaced. It smelled like garlic and vinegar and pungent herbs. He set it down and stood up.

"Don't die, Greenie," he said as he covered her with a quilt.

He went back to the chair. He watched her until his eyelids grew too heavy, feeling that for once, everything might be okay.