Twenty miles is a long way to walk, Newt kept thinking, especially when you don’t have any sense of how far you’ve gone or how fast you’re moving. But then he imagined what Minho, the oldest veteran of running the Maze, would say if he heard Newt’s thoughts. It would probably include the word slinthead, among other less savory things, followed by a condescending laugh, all of which would somehow still fail to hurt his feelings. Tommy would probably just agree with Newt, but then go out and get it done, anyway, without a single complaint.
He missed those guys. He really missed those guys.
The sky remained gray as they traveled, mostly in silence, all 10 of them taking turns with Dante in their arms—although Keisha always stayed close with eyes glued on the kid. Rain had yet to fall despite looking like it would dump on them any second. Newt was thankful for the cooler air, feeling as if his backpack weighed a thousand pounds. They made their way down small village streets and long country roads, not yet to the suburbs, where things might get more dicey. So far they hadn’t seen anyone out in the open.
The wind blew as they walked, at their backs, pushing them along. Every bit helped.
“Maybe you should check it again,” Newt whispered to Keisha in one of the few times that Jonesy let them separate from the group a little. The others were 30 or 40 feet ahead of their pace. “We can’t afford to waste time.” It was his turn to hold Dante, who slept on Newt’s shoulder, snoring softly and sweating like it was the Scorch itself they walked through.
She side-eyed him, having the same problem he did. As soon as they talked about their one big secret, the cell phone, they just assumed that the others were super-spies who had super-hearing and super-vision. And the both of them were terrible at keeping it cool under those circumstances. In reality, having a functioning cell phone should be so bonkers that no one could possibly suspect. But they’d both agreed that letting Jonesy and his goons know about the magical device would be a monumentally bad idea. Saints, they were not, no matter their constant bowing and scraping to the Almighty Newt or whatever moniker Jonesy last chose for him.
“I know where to go, Newt,” Keisha said so quietly he barely heard her. “I’ve lived here my whole life and so has my brother. I’m not an idiot.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He carefully shifted Dante to his other shoulder, wishing the boy would just wake up and relieve him of the pain in his back—what a great brother Newt had turned out to be. Uncle? Whatever. “Would you really be surprised if something came up and he had to change the plans? Change the meeting place? What if we get there and don’t find them and waste all this time? Just check it.”
Keisha sighed heavily, not hiding her displeasure. “I’m scared to, okay? It traumatizes me every time I turn that stupid thing on. I just know it’s going to have horrific news. Not to mention that the battery is really getting low. Almost out.”
“I get it,” he said, though he wasn’t sure he did. Surely it was worth it to check really quickly, keep it on for just a few seconds. He didn’t bother saying that, however, because he wasn’t in the mood for another lecture about how powering it on and off used up tons of battery life all on its own. “I would just feel better if we knew the plan is still the plan. You haven’t looked since last night before going to sleep.”
“You’re like an old man with hemorrhoids, you know that? Grumpy all the time, worried all the time, face lookin’ like you’re constipated. It’s a wonder Dante isn’t terrified of you.”
Her smile offset every word she said.
Newt patted Dante on the back. “This kid loves me and you know it. Probably more than he loves you. He even told me that this morning.”
“He doesn’t talk.”
“Oh, yeah.” They walked for a minute or two, her silence driving him crazy. “So you’re really not going to check? Real quick?”
Another heavy sigh blew through her nose and mouth both. “Will it shut you up if I do?”
“I swear it.”
“Fine. Tell them I’m going to pee.”
* * *
When Newt yelled ahead for the others to stop, Dante woke up, startled by the loud shout.
“Sorry, sorry,” Newt whispered, trying to imitate the bouncy thing that Keisha did to soothe the kid or get him to fall asleep. “I think my turn’s up with you, kid. How did you gain 50 pounds overnight?”
He didn’t respond. He never did. But he didn’t cry, either, so Newt considered it a victory.
A few minutes later, Keisha came out of the field of tall grass into which she’d disappeared to check her phone and take care of personal business. She waved up at Jonesy, thanked him for taking a break, then walked over to Newt.
“Want me to take him?” she asked.
“Yes. Please.” He gladly handed him over. “Well?”
Their glass-shard-armed escorts had started moving again, Jonesy yelling some smart comment about Keisha having a small bladder. Newt and Keisha followed, like stray cattle behind the herd, trying to catch up.
“Was there a message?” Newt asked again, impatience making his head hurt.
Keisha nodded, and the false smile she’d put on for Jonesy disappeared. Newt’s heart stopped beating, refused to start again until she told him the news.
“Is it bad?”
“No, no, not necessarily. It just worries me.”
“Why? What did it say?”
She gave him a look, her eyes filled with anxiety.
“Just one word. Hurry .”
* * *
They had about three hours until sunset.
They’d reached the beginnings of the suburbs, a mix of sprawling neighborhoods and small businesses and strip malls. The sight of people had definitely increased, but they usually hid or ran or closed the curtains as soon as they were noticed. So far, Newt had not seen anyone who seemed like a Crank past the Gone.
“I never thought I’d say this,” Jonesy said as he scooped something that looked like dog food out of a tin can. “But I’m sick of chili. Especially cold chili.”
They were sitting in a circle at the edge of a parking lot, all 11 of them, with Dante playing in the center with a discarded tennis ball they’d found. The establishment looked like it had once been a nail salon and a dry cleaner, two things Newt was sure he’d never see. The windows were boarded up, now, which seemed kind of pointless since both doors had been ripped off their hinges. The rain still threatened heavy up above, trapped in pockets of thick, almost black clouds.
“Did it ever rain in the Maze?” Keisha asked. She was eating a granola bar, and by the looks of it every chew was a solid chore.
Newt took a bite of canned corn to hide his surprise at her mentioning the Maze. Cold canned corn. He hated every kernel but was hungry enough to force it down.
“Yeah, it rained,” he said, not comfortable remembering that place. “We had a fake sky, fake sun, fake everything. I don’t really know how they made it rain but the place was packed with all kinds of bloody techno gadgets. Stuff that made it seem bigger, more realistic, optical illusions, that kind of crap. I’ll never forget the day the sun stopped working. You wanna talk about a freak-out. That was weird.”
“How’d it work?” This came from one of Jonesy’s friends, a woman Newt had never heard speak before. “We’ve heard all kinds of rumors about those places. The experiments. All that scary spooky stuff. I’m sure it was mostly BS.”
Newt put his can of corn down, slowly placed the plastic spoon next to it. His hand trembled.
No, no, no , he thought. No, no, no . It was happening again. His whole body quaked, whether it was just on the inside or manifested visibly, he didn’t know. His stomach turned sour. Pain lanced behind his eyeballs, moving toward the rear of his skull and then forward again, back and forth like a pendulum. He shut his eyes tightly, as if he could squeeze out the pain like juice from a lemon.
Keisha said his name gently. “Newt? Are you okay?”
He nodded but kept his eyes closed. Speaking took an effort and he gasped out the words. “I just have a headache. I don’t think I drank enough water or something.”
Please, please, please , he thought. Go away, Flare. Let me get Keisha and this sweet little brat to their family and then take me. Take me fast as you bloody like. I’ll be ready for the Gone by then .
He slowly shook his head. What was he doing, praying to the damn virus?
Someone handed him a bottle of water—he looked up to see Jonesy—the cap already off. He devoured it without taking a single breath. Then he sucked in and blew out air several times to make up for it. Anger, that red mist of fury that had so consumed him in the bowling alley, started to seep through his tissue and bones again. His vision clouded with fog so he closed his eyes again. He had no reason to be angry. None at all.
Go. Away.
Someone lightly touched his shoulder and it was like a claw, a spiked claw with poison tips, surely meant to rip his flesh and make him die of rot and pain. He screamed and swatted it away, opening his eyes to see Keisha. Instead of being mad or scared, she frowned and her eyes filled with sorrow.
“I’m sorry,” Newt whispered. “I’m sorry.”
She spoke back to him, but he couldn’t hear. The roar of white noise filled his ears, kept to the beat of his thumping heart.
“It’ll go away,” he managed to say. Then he lay on his side and curled into a ball, tightly holding onto his legs, pulled to his chest.
And he waited.
