Gally turns to walk away, and we follow in shock – especially Minho. Thomas pats his shoulder, saying, "We'll explain later," despite the fact that Gally has yet to tell us how he actually survived a shucking spear through the chest.
We run away from WICKED's building, turning into a side alley that leads us into an open square. We find a wall and we hide behind it, collecting our breaths as we slump down onto the floor. I slouch beside Newt, putting my head against his shoulder while we shudder from the cold. He rests his hand on my thigh, attempting a weak smile while my heart lightly flutters.
"Well," Gally scoffs, "they're definitely pissed."
"How far are the tunnels from here?" Thomas asks, taking his soaked gloves off.
"Maybe twelve blocks away."
I shake my damp hair back from my face, and turn to look at Newt's face. His hair is plastered to his waxy forehead, and even in the past few minutes his eyes are a lot more bloodshot. Dark circles lie under his eyes, his lips cracked and pale.
"I'll just be one minute," I say to him, planting a careful kiss on his cheek. He nods, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. I get up and crouch down to face Gally.
"Did you bring the serum with you?" I ask in a whisper, urgency laced into my tone as I try to be quiet.
"No, I left it on the bus with Brenda," he responds, his eyebrows furrowing together. I feel my chest compress tightly. "I thought you had some?"
I close my eyes, my heart sinking. "I did... Janson took it."
"We can make it," Gally assures me. I open my eyes, and he looks back at me with a promising glint in his eye. "If we leave now, we can make it before he gets too bad."
I bite my lip, looking back to Newt. Minho is hunched beside him, his face painted in worry.
"How you feeling?" he asks carefully in a low tone.
Newt coughs, his eyes closing. "Terrible," he croaks. He opens his eyes again, smiling up to Minho. "It's good to see you, though. I missed you, mate." The two share sad smiles, Newt's arm stretched out on Minho's shoulder. I find my eyes trailing towards his hand, where his veins bulge against his pale skin, strikingly dark. Minho slowly makes his way towards us, Newt's eyes closing once more. I feel my heart drum against my chest before he opens them again, breathing in relief.
"How long's he been like this?" Minho whispers to me and Thomas. We share an anxious glance.
"He'll be okay, we just gotta get to Brenda," Thomas murmurs, taking off his WICKED jacket. "She's got the Bliss." He gets us and walks towards Newt just as the sound of distant sirens begins to whine in the distance. I follow Thomas gingerly as he grabs Newt's hand.
"Come on, bud, let's get you up," Thomas says. Newt begins to stand before he staggers forward, his legs shaking weakly under his body. I take in a sharp intake of breath, my lips quivering, heading to Newt's other side to hold his arm.
"You okay?" Thomas asks.
"Y-Yeah..." Newt whispers. He turns to face me with an exhausted expression. I look into his eyes, but I am not comforted when I don't see his irises flooded with his beautiful, chocolate brown – but rather an unimaginable black, darker than the night sky above our heads. He seems to notice my alarm, but he seems too physically weak to smile. It feels like a stab to the chest.
"Let's head," Gally says lowly. "Minho, Thomas - you guys grab Newt's arms, (y/n) and I will go ahead a bit and look out for any guards."
"I can... do this myself," Newt grumbles, flinching as he limps forward with his legs buckling beneath him.
"C'mon, Newt, it'll be quicker if we help you," Minho replies softly. Begrudgingly, Newt nods, his lips shaking.
Me and Gally pace ourselves to go ahead, our heads darting from side to side as we remain vigilant for WICKED officers. The sirens continuously whine around us, the faint glow of orange and blue lights up around the corner. Gally jogs faster to scan beyond the corner, and we see cars lined up in a row along the new street.
"Keep low!" he orders, squatting beside a large rectangular plant pot. I crouch beside him, and the three boys approach, Newt placed beside me before Thomas and Minho sit down. The sound of sirens drowns out the yells of the guards, shouting commands to each other, and I tense. They saw us. They must've.
Gally has the same thought apparently, holding his gun closer to his body. However, when no officers attack us, we look to each other confusedly. Thomas carefully pokes his head out from the side of the plant pot, pulling back a few seconds later.
"They're all facing the other way," he says lowly. "About to shoot at something."
"Get ready!" we hear a guard shout.
"What are they waiting for?" Minho hisses.
Not a second later, a massive explosion goes off down the street, sending a wall of furious fire up into the air. Massive pieces of glass and shrapnel fly in every direction, and the sound of intense, ravenous screaming erupts. We all look beyond the street, where a wave of people are running out of the explosion and towards the WICKED officers on the street. Chaos breaks out; gunfire pierces my eardrums as people continue to shout, vans screeching against the roads in attempts to ram people over. The noise sounds like too much for me to handle, my hands flying to my ears to muffle the noises.
The ground rumbles beneath us while people literally fly through the air, their limp bodies landing in mangled heaps on the edge of the street. A louder explosion sends a massive tremor across the ground, and we all fall down to the floor, moaning weakly as we try to sit up again.
"We gotta get out of here!" Gally cries. Nodding in agreement, Thomas and Minho grab a hold of Newt's arms once again, heading in the opposite direction. We try to stay as low as possible, but it's hard when Thomas and Minho are carrying Newt. His feet are being dragged almost lifelessly along the concrete ground, Thomas' legs buckling under the strain.
"We need to take cover somewhere!" I shout. Minho gestures to the closest door, into a small room with wide glass windows, and we all hastily go inside just as the window shatters, shards of glass flying to the floor. We collapse to the floor, smoke from the fires in the street fogging our vision. I feel a deep burning sensation in my throat, heaving in deep, rasping coughs, filling my lungs with smoke fumes. I take my jacket off and put it around my mouth, trying to stop breathing in so heavily. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Newt weakly moving his hand, stretching it out to me. His fingers twitch, as if filled with some kind of unnatural electric energy that scares me. I move my hand close to his, our fingertips lightly touching. And, despite everything, I feel that sense of inner peace wrap around me again, like nothing can ever go wrong - just as everything that could go wrong is happening at this very moment.
He locks eyes with me, and I can see it. That deep, knowing feeling that all hope is slowly fading. I see the wisp of determination leave his dark eyes, his lips parting as all ambition has drained from his body. I don't even have the energy to cry; I just look back at him, my eyes half-closed and devoid of all emotion while the ceiling starts to crumble above our heads.
"Brenda," I hear Thomas choke out. I slowly lift my head and move it to look across to him with a walkie-talkie in his shaking hand, a small slice of glass cutting my cheekbone as I place my head down. I don't even flinch.
"We're not gonna make it," he breathes, his voice cracking.
"What are you talking about?" Brenda asks over the radio.
Thomas looks across to me. His eyes gloss over as he looks down at our touching fingertips, raising the device to his mouth. "Just... take the others. Get out while you still can."
"No."
"Brenda," he urges.
"No. I'm not leaving you. So... forget it."
Thomas clenches his jaw. "Even though you should?"
Silence. He nods ever so slightly, dropping the walkie-talkie carelessly on the ground and slouching against the wall. That when we hear a beep sounding from the device, and Brenda's voice, louder than before.
"Thomas! Don't worry! I'm coming to you!"
He picks up the walkie-talkie once more, breath quivering. "What are you talking about?"
"Our ride's here!" Over Brenda's voice I hear the faint, gravelly sound of a Berg engine, and I lift my head up, my eyes opening more. "Just look for us near the tunnels," Brenda says.