Emotionless »« Newt

SEVENTEEN

Destroyed buildings loom overhead as the group slowly walks towards the large walls, the restless noise of the people around them piercing into their ears as they move along dead bodies in bags, selling whatever they can and just trying to get along with real life as difficult as it may be.

Brenda pulls her hood over her head, trying to blend in, but Thomas just keeps urging forward. Leandra makes sure Newt stays between her and Frypan, not wanting him to touch any of the people around them, not daring to risk it. Sure, she can tell if a few of them are infected, which they are, but who? There are too many people to figure it out, too many emotions to sift through and isolate.

Jorge and Thomas pass a few words amongst themselves, but Leandra doesn't hear it over the sound of a loudspeaker blaring out a voice, criticising WICKED. "We are the voice of the voiceless! They hide behind their walls, thinking they can keep the cure for themselves, while they watch the rest of us wither and rot!" A series of small vans seem to pass, then, people sitting on top of them with masks over their faces as the group jumps back and stares. "But there are more of us than there are of them. And I say, we rise up and take back what is ours! Let's bring back a victory!"

"Oh, shit..." Leandra mutters, eyes going wide, but just as Newt turns to her she's dashed off the same way the trucks are headed.

"LEANDRA!" they all call, some angry and some worried, wondering what the hell she's doing as she weaves between the crowd and the vehicles, then out of sight. Newt yells her name a few more times after her, even seeming ready to run after her, but Frypan stops him and grabs his shoulders. "Let go of me, I need to go after her!"

"Listen, man. Whatever she's doing, we gotta trust her," Frypan says quickly. "That girl can protect herself. She saved our asses back in the Scorch, remember? She'll find us."

"But–"

"Newt, Fry's right," Thomas interjects, shaking his head. "What's important is that we get past those walls. She knows that, and she'll be fine. Come on." Newt looks between his friends, teeth gritted, then shrugs Frypan off him and starts stalking off in the gap the trucks left in their wake, trying to hide the hurt at her running off without telling him. It seems there's a lot she doesn't tell him, and he's only realising now.

Maybe it's his fault, because he doesn't ask.

"That's it," Thomas points out before long as they join a large crowd screaming at the walls to let them in, no doubt being picked up by WICKED's cameras. "That's our way in."

"Thomas!" Jorge yells, trying to be heard over the crowd as Thomas keeps pushing through. "This is not what you're looking for! All these people trying to find their way in, you think you're gonna find something they can't?"

"Came this far. I'm not turning back now."

"What the hell did we get ourselves into?" Frypan sighs wearily, looking around at all the protestors.

Before long they reach the front, where there are barriers that the people are pointlessly throwing things over, as if they'd hit the walls. "Thomas, this doesn't feel right," Jorge reiterates, getting a bad feeling in his chest.

Newt turns to look behind him, getting a prickly feeling at the back of his neck like someone's watching him, and they are. The same masked people on the vehicles earlier are following at a safe distance, and to his left and right, too.

"Hey, guys, we gotta go now," he says hurriedly when he reaches the others. "Look. Look." They turn around, seeing the masked people heading closer and closer to clearly get to them. Jorge pulls his gun out of his pocket, Frypan reaching for his as Newt just silently wishes Leandra's okay, hoping she's fine.