Through The WICKED Scorch | A Maze Runner Story (English Version)

20. A shot in the desert

I was about to say that I found it strange that WICKED had chosen her and none of us and wondered aloud if it had something to do with the fact that she had come to the glade unscheduled and out of turn anyway, when Winston stirred beside me.
I looked over at him and was suddenly wide awake when I saw that he had taken Minho's gun from his backpack and was holding it to his head.
"Winston!" I exclaimed in horror and immediately had the attention of the others.
Quick-witted and not thinking about the fact that it could be dangerous for me, I grabbed the gun and turned it in the direction where no one was sitting when Winston pulled the trigger and there was a loud bang as it went off.
"Hey!" Fry Pan cried in horror and was immediately on his feet and with us.
I heard Aris calling for Thomas and Teresa, but didn't understand what exactly he was calling for all my senses were focused on Winston, who I was now pulling the pistol from his limp hand.
"Winston, what are you doing, man? Give me that!"
Fry Pan snatched the gun from me and jumped back a few steps, pulling it to safety from Winston.
"What's going on? What are you doing?!" Newt asked in horror as Winston now rolled off the stretcher and got onto his knees, threatening to topple over again.
I held him tightly and looked around for help, but Newt, Minho, Fry Pan and Aris kept their distance from us in horror.
"What happened?" Teresa asked as she and Thomas reached our shelter.
"I don't know! He just woke up grabbed the gun and tried to..." Fry Pan was beside himself, as was everyone.
Now Winston tried to push me away from him, but I kept holding him.
"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked softly, gently stroking his back.
Now Thomas was the only one who came closer to us and put his hands on Winston's back as well.
"Winston! Winston, are you okay?" he asked carefully.
Suddenly the boy threw up and a strange stuff came out of his mouth. It looked like blood, only darker, almost black.
Horrified, Thomas and I exchanged a look and he jumped back, pulling me with him. We had been thinking the same thing, that much was clear.
Winston was changing.
I didn't avert my gaze from him as someone I thought was Minho pulled me to my feet. Now we were all standing two metres away from him, looking at him in horror, unable to form a clear thought about what to do.
Panting, he turned onto his back and looked up at us in agony. We all seemed to decide at the same time that he wasn't really dangerous, because we took a step towards him.
Slowly he began to pull up his top and what we saw next almost transported the contents of my stomach upwards. Horrified, I slapped a hand over my mouth.
"It's growing... inside me..."
The bandage I had put on him the night before had slipped, revealing his stomach, which looked indescribably disgusting. His skin was blue, almost purple, and the dark fluid he had just spit out was coming out everywhere.
A horrified murmur went through the group and I looked up for the first time, only to see Fry Pan turn away with his face contorted in pain. We fell silent, no one knowing what to say, and continued to stare down at Winston, who was still looking up at us in anguish.
"I'm not gonna make it," he stated in a whisper, and now we were exchanging looks of dismay. "Please... Please, don't let me turn into one of those things..."
Weakly he reached out a hand for the pistol Fry Pan was still holding, but immediately lowered it because he lacked the strength even to do that.
No one said anything, we just looked from the gun to Winston and when I realised what he was asking for, I felt dizzy.
Dizzy because at that moment it was too much for my head to grasp what was happening. Winston would become one of them, he would become a Crank, just because they had scratched him. And now he was lying there in front of us, begging us to allow him to take his life so he wouldn't have to turn. I had actually just stopped him from shooting himself. A cold shiver ran down my spine as I realised what would have been if I hadn't noticed. He would have shot himself right next to me.
And that's when I thought I wouldn't want it either. I would probably also expect the others to pay that last tribute to me before I became one of those things. wanting to kill them.
Just as I was wondering whether it really wouldn't be best if we left him the gun so that he could put his last will into practice, Newt stepped up to Fry Pan. He took the gun from his hand and turned with it to the coughing and wheezing Winston.
"Wait, Newt..." Thomas said, but he just kept walking, taking the few steps towards the boy on the ground.
Slowly, he crouched down beside him, carefully taking his right hand from the sand and placing the gun in it before placing both on his chest.
"Thank you," Winston whispered. "Now get outta here."
"Goodbye, Winston." Newt touched him once more on the shoulder and then stood up. Silently he picked up his backpack and pushed past Fry Pan and Teresa.
Behind us now Aris also turned and Minho, Fry Pan and I knelt down beside our friend one last time.
"Go," he whispered, nodding weakly at us.
Minho stood up silently and left, as if to get the whole thing over with quickly. Fry Pan patted Winston gently on the shoulder once more and then also quickly stood up and disappeared.
I looked up and saw that only Thomas was still standing there, looking down at Winston. I saw tears in his eyes and felt a tear running down my cheek as well.
Now the boy reached for my hand that was still on his chest and squeezed it weakly before whispering, "It's okay."
"Goodbye, Winston." I squeezed his hand one last time and slowly stood up and stepped next to Thomas.
"I'm sorry," Thomas said quietly, then picked up his backpack.
I shouldered mine as well and was about to leave with my shoulders drooping when Winston raised his voice once more.
"Thomas..." We both turned around. "Take care of them."
Thomas nodded and I thought I heard a quiet sob as I took one last look at our friend and then walked with Thomas behind the others at a little distance.
When we had moved a few hundred metres away from Winston, a shot was heard. As if on cue, we all stopped at the same time. In front of me, Fry Pan turned a little as if to see what had happened, and I saw that he was crying. Now I couldn't hold back the tears either and wept as we walked on at some point without a word.
Until it got dark and we looked for shelter, no one said anything and even when we had already made a fire, we kept silent.
I did notice that we had settled by a huge overturned ship, which must mean that there had once been water here, perhaps even a sea, before the sun had scorched the earth, but no one said anything about that either.
Winston, keeper of the slicers, our friend, was dead.