He ran off before anyone could respond, probably to share what he thought was good news. Newt wasn’t so sure about that.
“What do you think?” he asked Keisha, who looked the opposite of enthused.
She thought a moment before responding.
“What do I think? I think it’s a bad sign when the people with weapons start running away from the ones who don’t.”
Chapter Sixteen
Dawn seemed to come late the next day, as if the sun had decided to sleep in, the sky wrapped in gray clouds, the threat of rain heavy and imminent.
They’d decided to get a good night’s rest—or what passed for such a thing in the circumstances—before heading out the next day. For one thing, they wanted to maximize their daylight. For another, they didn’t want to be wandering the streets with the other escapees in the middle of the night. Talk about spooky. Most of them had already left, and Newt figured they might as well give them a head start, give them some space. The more the better.
They stood outside the little hut they’d called home for a few days. He looked at the pathetic little structure, wondering if he could’ve spent the rest of his descending days in such a place—with a kid who didn’t talk and a woman who only made him miss the shadow of a mother he almost remembered. Keisha and Dante already meant the world to him, but staying in this place until they went completely insane sounded like a special kind of hell on Earth.
“Here they come,” Keisha said. She had her backpack hitched up, packed to bursting with food and supplies, just like the one on his own back. Dante sat on the ground at her feet, staring at the approaching group of ragamuffins as if to say, “You’re putting our lives in the hands of them?”
Jonesy lead the group of eight shady-looking Cranks down the path, right on time, one hour past sunrise. Newt didn’t know why the word ragamuffin had popped into his head just now—surely a term his mum or dad used to describe the teenage hoodlums in the neighborhood—but it seemed to fit. There were more tattoos, piercings, leather boots, and ripped, shoddy clothing than Newt had ever seen in one place. And they apparently weren’t too keen on baths or getting haircuts. But they had volunteered to risk their lives to help him reunite Keisha with her family. That said all that needed to be said.
“Master Newt!” Jonesy called out, a huge grin revealing the less-than-full-load of teeth inside his mouth. He slicked his hair back with one hand, a favorite hobby of his. “Are we ready for the adventure of a lifetime?”
Newt gave him a nod, like he’d imagine a cowboy doing in the stories of old. “Actually, hoping for the lamest adventure of my lifetime. With the guards gone, let’s hope we can walk straight there and be done with it. Keisha says it’s about 20 miles.”
Jonesy usually had a goofy, blank look on his face, but he had a flash of something very serious cross him upon hearing Newt’s opening salvo. As if he knew, absolutely knew, that there was zero chance on God’s green Earth that they’d just stroll to Keisha’s meeting place without incident. Without an incident that left scars.
“I hope you’re right,” Jonesy said, mostly recovering his former, and normal, carefree expression. “I’m sure you’re right. Who’d mess with a bunch of dudes and ladies like us?” He gestured at his friends as if revealing a prized possession. And maybe he was.
Newt noticed, with a sadness that pierced him more strongly than he would’ve thought, that Jonesy’s girlfriend had not come along. He almost asked about her but thought better of it.
“I don’t guess the Munies left any Launchers behind?” Keisha asked. “That would’ve been downright peachy of them if they did.”
“Not a one, the bastards,” Jonesy replied. “But we’ve got plenty of sharp objects.” He lifted his shirt to reveal a shard of glass tucked into his pants, half of which had been wrapped with black tape. “I’ll try not to cut my hand this time.”
Keisha eyed him up and down. “Better be careful or you might cut something worse. I wouldn’t run too fast with that thing stuck in your pants.”
This earned a respectable enough laugh from the group.
“I’ll be super duper careful,” Jonesy responded. “Shall we get a move on? Sun only stays up for so long, ya know.”
“Good that,” Newt said, something he hadn’t uttered in decades, or so it felt. “Let’s get the hell out of this place.”
“Who wants to carry the kid first?” Keisha asked.
* * *
Newt refused to believe that each and every guard had left—at least he wouldn’t until they’d put the wall a few miles behind them. All the same, he’d taken his Launcher out of his backpack and held it, charged and ready to “Jones” anyone who needed it—that’s what Jonesy kept saying Newt had done to him, like it was a badge of honor. “Remember that time you Jonesed me?” he’d ask. “Oh yeah that was yesterday.” Or, “I was Jonesed by a Maze-kid, ain’t that a thing?” Newt was really starting to like this guy he’d violently electrocuted not 24 hours ago.
As they approached the gate through which they’d just entered less than a week prior, he saw that it was open, which was a good start. One of the doors had been knocked off a hinge, the big slab tilting toward them. There wasn’t a single person in sight.
“Careful, now,” Jonesy called out. “Everyone wrap around Newt and his mom, his brother. Keep them in the middle.”
“They’re not...” He left it. “I’m the one with the Launcher!”
“Don’t matter. Do as you’re told.”
He gave Newt a creepy wink that did nothing to make him think this man was sane enough to be their leader. Gotta work with what you got, Newt thought.
They made it to the gate, looking in all directions between the 10 of them—11 if you counted Dante, but he wasn’t much good as a lookout. Newt eyed the doors, expecting the boogeyman to jump out at any moment. The gray morning made it hard to adjust his eyes between the lights and the darks. But the world seemed abandoned by the human race. The sounds of birds were the only signs of life besides his little group.
They passed under the archway created by the open gate. No one jumped from the top of the wall; no one sprinted out of the woods; no one swooped down from the sky with man-made wings. They were alone, at least for the time being.
Newt looked back up at the wall, remembering that he’d seen a sign on the way in but didn’t catch the words in time as their truck zoomed past. It was just a piece of wood that someone had nailed to the planks of the main structure, a short message scratched onto its surface with a nail. Then someone had filled in the grooves of the words with dark mud, now dried.
HERE THERE BE CRANKS, it said.
Stupid, Newt thought. Although it struck him that he really was a Crank, now, a word that had become synonymous with monstrous ghoulish cannibal people before he caught the Flare, himself. He knew he’d be there before too long. Soon, if the incident in the bowling alley had been any kind of indicator. Past the Gone. He shuddered as he stared at the sign. He’d wanted Tommy to kill him so he didn’t have to go through it all. But Thomas had failed him, hadn’t he? Or maybe he hadn’t read the note in the envelope, yet. Maybe.
“Hey, Captain Newt,” Jonesy said, interrupting his morbid thoughts. “You having another episode or what?”
Newt turned to him. “No, just gonna miss the place, is all. Shame to leave so soon.”
He set off after the others, ignoring the urge to look back one last time. And so it was that his short stay at the Crank Palace came to an end, he thought with a melodramatic flair. He swore he’d never come back.
Not alive, anyway.
Chapter Seventeen
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.
Chapter Eighteen
At some point, mercifully, his mind had decided it was done and fled consciousness, sinking him into a deep sleep. He entered a black void empty of dreams or memories, and it seemed only a few seconds later that Keisha gently awakened him.
She spoke his name several times, and he finally fluttered his eyes open. It was gone. The pain, the noise, the fog. He felt fine.
“Come on, now,” Keisha said. “Sit up. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
She grabbed his hands and helped him lift off the hard cement of the parking lot; he swung his legs around and settled into a sitting position. He’d expected a wave of pain or nausea but nothing happened.
“How long was I out?” he asked.
“About an hour. I hated to wake you up but... We’re running out of daylight. I knew you wouldn’t want us caught out here in the dark. I think we can still make it to the meeting spot on time.”
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