Abused ≫ Newt [2]

Chapter 30.

Emily sat in the darkness, examining the glistening metal bow that she held in her hands. Newt had ordered all lights to be extinguished, leaving the Glade in the pale, deathly glow of their new gray sky. Emily understood why he did this- no sense in attracting any more attention than necessary- though she hated the eerie darkness that replaced the light.
Alby had left the room shortly after their disagreement, muttering something about protecting the Maps. Emily tried to stop him, though Newt and Minho held her back.
Anything that could have been done of such a short to notice to prepare for a Griever attack had been done. Windows boarded up, furniture moved in front of the doors, knives handed out as weapons.
But none of this made Emily feel safe.
The anticipation of what might happen was overwhelming, a crushing, suffocating blanket of misery and fear that began to take on a life of its own. She almost wished that the stupid monsters would just come and get it over with. Whatever they were planning to do. The waiting was unbearable.
Emily tried hard to force herself to sleep, knowing that it would pass time faster. Hoping that, the next time she opened her eyes, it would be morning. And no one would be hurt. But after what seemed like three hours, she still had no luck.
The bed had gone to her, courtesy of the four other boys in the room. No matter how hard she protested, they made her sleep on the rickety wooden bed. Newt practically had to carry her over to the bed and hold her down until she gave up.
Though the bed was almost as uncomfortable as the floor itself. Every time she moved, even the slightest bit, the mattress underneath her would creak, sounding as if it were about to snap in half at any given moment. The mattress felt as if it were filled with rocks, the pillow as hard as a tree stump. Several times she debated on retreating to the floor, and after several hours of tossing and turning, she finally did.
With a frustrated groan, Emily grabbed her blanket and pillow and retreated to the wooden floor beneath her. She settled down beside Newt, who was tossing and turning, not fully asleep yet. She threw the blanket over her, cuddled as close to him as she could manage and closed her eyes.
"Emily?" His groggy, sleep-filled voice caused her to open her eyes once more.
"Hey," she said slowly, quietly. Across the room, Chuck groaned in his sleep and turned over.
"Why'd you come down here?" Newt asked, his accent even more thicker than usual. "Why aren't you in the bed?"
"I couldn't sleep," said Emily simply.
In the darkness, she saw Newt smirk, his brown eyes glowing with mischief, "Scared?"
Emily scoffed, "No. Just uncomfortable."
Newt pursed his lips and turned over so that he was fully facing her. He wrapped his arms around her small body, pulling her against his chest.
"It's alright to be scared, princess," he whispered in her ear. "We're all scared. But I won't ever let anything hurt you."
The distant wails of the Grievers grew closer and closer as the night stretched on, every minute seeming to last longer than the one before it. Newt eventually fell into a light sleep. His breathing slowed, comforting Emily as she lay awake. She shivered, though she wasn't cold. It was more of a terrified shiver.
Terrified of what was about to happen.
Another hour passed. Then another. Across the room, Thomas tossed and turned, obviously having as much trouble sleeping as Emily. For a moment or two, she was tempted to get up and go sit with him, perhaps make a conversation. But she stayed where she was, too comfortable in Newt's arms to move.
Emily guessed it was around one in the morning when Emily turned over on to her back for what seemed like the millionth time that night. She stared at the ceiling, wondering what was going on in the other rooms. If the other boys were having as much trouble sleeping as she was. She wondered what room Frypan was in, and Zart and Winston. Jeff, Clint. She wondered what Alby was doing, where he was. If he was alive.
If all of them were still alive. Or if they had already died from fear itself.
It was around two in the morning when everything changed.
A mechanized surged of machinery sounded from outside, followed by the familiar rolling clicks of a Griever on the stony ground. They had reached the Glade. The sounds it made reminded Emily of someone scattering a bunch of nails across the ground. The noise made her her heart beat quicken, whatever fear she felt before doubling.
Another sound, and she shot to her feet, as did the others in the room.
Newt was up before anyone, staring around the room and waving his arms, shushing the startled murmurs by putting a finger to his lips. He tiptoed towards the single window in the room, favoring his bad leg. The window was covered by three hastily nailed boards, with several little cracks in between them to peak outside. Emily moved slowly so that she was standing beside him. Carefully, she leaned in to take a look, as did Newt.
It was terrifying veins so close to the thin wall of the Homestead, but as she pressed her eye against the crack, all she saw was open Glade. No signs of any hideous monsters anywhere. She didn't have any space to look up or not, left or right. Just ahead. Several other screeches filled the night air, sounding close enough to be right outside the building. But after a minute or two, she gave up at trying to see anything and turned to face the room once more. Newt placed his hand on the small of her back and led her other to the bed, sitting her down on the thin mattress. He sat down beside her, buying his face in his hands with a sigh.
Several minutes passed, various Griever sounds penetrating the walls every few seconds. The squeal of small engines followed by a grinding sound of spinning metal. The clicking of spikes against the hard stones, things snapping and opening and snapping. Emily winced in fear at every sound she heard.
The smell of burning oil was overwhelming, making it hard to breath without coughing.
Judging by the sounds and the smell, three or four of the creatures were just outside. At least.
They sat in a stunned silence, listening as the Grievers outside came closer. The animal-machines waited on the stone blocks below, almost as if they were teasing the Gladers inside the building.
Emily's mouth had dried up, her heart racing, her breaths coming in quick, ragged gasps. Memories came flooding over her- she saw these monsters face to face, not even three feet from her. She remembered it all
too well, and for a moment, she forgot how to breath.
One of the Grievers sounded as if it were moving towards the Homestead. The clicking of its spikes and feet against stone suddenly changed into a deeper, more hollow sound. The house shook with sudden force, and Emily could imagine it in her mind: the Griever's spikes digging into the wooden walls as it climbed its way towards them. The sound of wood snapping and breaking as the monster defied gravity with its mechanical, unnatural strength.
These sounds became all Emily could hear. She focused only on the single window in the room. Too scared to speak or move, she just sat there. Fear hung in the air, making the air stuffy and hard to breath.
The sounds were growing louder, almost unbearable. Emily did not know whether it was right outside the window, or still just off the ground. It was hard to tell with the sudden abnormal hearing she had. She could hear her own heart beating as everything fell silent.
Lights flickered outside, an eerie green glow seeping through the cracks in the boarded up window. A thin shadow interrupted the glow, moving back and forth as if it were following something. Emily guessed that the Griever's probes and weapons had come out of its body, searching for something to make a feast on. She imagined the small, mechanical bodies of beetle blades out there, helping the machine find its way. A few moments later, the shadow stopped. The sounds stopped. Though the smell of burning oil was still there, the light casting three unmoving planes of brightness into the still room.
Emily felt Newt's arm snake around her waist, pulling her closer to him as quietly as possible. She didn't protest, only laid her head on his chest as she waited for something to happen.
The air was thick with tension. She could barely hear anyone breathing; not even Newt, who was right beside her. She imagined the same thing going on in the other rooms of the Homestead, the same fear and tension hanging in the air like a dark blizzard.
Then she remembered Teresa in the Slammer.
She couldn't help but feel bad for the girl. How scared she must have been. For the first time, Emily wished that she would speak to her in her mind. To tell her that she was still alive.
Though her thoughts were cut short as the door from the hallway suddenly whipped open. Gasps and shouts exploded from the room, a single, surprised scream escaped Emily's mouth. They had been expecting something to come through the window, not from behind them. Emily hesitated a moment before turning to see who'd the door, expecting to see a frightened Glader or maybe even Alby. But when she saw who was standing there, it felt as if her rips were contrasting against her lungs, her heart.
Standing in the doorway, his eyes dark with insanity, was Gally.
The boy's clothes were torn and ragged, covered in dirt and grime. He dropped to his knees and looked up at me, straight in the eyes, his chest heaving with deep, sucking breaths. He then shook his head, tearing his gaze from mine and began looking around the room like a rabid dog looking for someone to bite.
No one said a word- everyone was too stunned to process any words. It was as if they all believed that Emily did: that Gally was only a figment of their imagination.
"They'll kill you!" Gally suddenly screamed, spit flying from his mouth after every word. "The Grievers will kill you all- one every night till you're all dead!"
Emily watched in silence as Gally dragged himself to his feet and walked forward, dragging his right leg with a heavy limp. Emily flinched at the sight of his injury. No one in the room moved an inch as they watched, too stunned to do anything. Even Newt stood with his mouth agape, his hand twitching in hers. Emily didn't even realize that he grabbed her hand, but a small smile twitched at the corner of her mouth as she stared down at them.
"What're you laughing at?"
Emily jumped as Gally's lunatic voice shook the walls of the Homestead. She was almost more afraid of their visitor than she was of the Grievers outside the window.
"N-nothing," she stammered, blinking rapidly as Gally stared her down. The boy shook his head, then moved on. He stopped in front of Thomas, pointed at him with a bloody finger. "You," he said with a sneer so pronounced, Emily almost flinched at the amount of insanity it contained. "This is all your fault!" Without warning he swung out, forming it into a fist as it came in contact with Thomas's ear. Crying out, Thomas fell to the floor, holding his now bleeding ear with his hands. Emily released her grip from Newt's hand and quickly rushed over to Thomas, kneeling beside him.
Newt had finally snapped out of his daze and pushed Gally away. The Builder stumbled backwards and crashed into the desk by the window. The lamp scooted off the side and crashed to the ground in a million pieces. Emily expected Gally to retaliate, to push Newt back or even something worse. She gripped the bow that lay by the bed, an arrow already lodged into the weapon, ready to defend Newt if necessary. But the Builder only straightened, taking everyone in with his mad gaze.
"It can't be solved," he said, his voice now quiet and distant. "The shuck Maze will kill all you shanks... The Grievers'll kill you... one every night till it's all over... I... It's better this way..."
Emily padded at Thomas's bleeding head with a rag, listening in awe to every word the crazy boy said.
Minho took a step forward, his eyebrows furrowed. "Gally, calm your shuck ass down, alright?"
"Shut up, Minho!" Gally screamed, shaking his head violently. "Just listen to me!"
Newt groaned and stepped forward, "Gally, shut your bloody hole! There's a Griever right outside the window. Just sit on your butt and be quiet- maybe it'll go away."
Gally looked up from the ground, his eyes narrowing. "You don't get it, Newt. You're too stupid- you've always been too stupid. There's no way out, there's no way to win! They're gonna kill you, all of you- one by one!" He paused, his crazed gaze slide over to Emily. "And they're gonna start with you."
Letting out a scream that reminded Emily of a battle cry, Gally flung himself towards the window. He started tearing at the wooden boards like a wild, rapid animal trying to escape a cage. Before anyone could react, he had already ripped one board free and threw it to the ground.
"No!" Newt yelled, running forward.
Gally ripped off another board just as Newt reached him. He swung it backwards with both hands and connected with Newt's head, sent him sprawling across the bed as a small spray of blood sprinkled the sheets.
Emily jumped up, ran over to the bed and looked down at Newt. The boy was unconscious, bleeding from a large wound in his forehead. Emily grabbed the sheet from underneath him, pressing it against his forehead in attempt to stop the bleeding. She brushed a single strand of his blonde hair and brushed it away from the wound. A tear fell from her eye, mixing with the blood that seeped from the cut.
"Gally, what're you doing?" Thomas's shocked voice brought her crashing back into reality.
Emily jumped up from the bed and grabbed the bow and arrow that lay on the floor. She held the weapon up, pointing it at the crazed boy as he backed away from the now open window. He spat on the ground, panting like a winded dog.
"Shut your shuck face, Thomas. You shut up! I know who you are, but I don't care anymore. I can only do what's right."
Emily tightened her grip around the weapon, bracing herself to let the arrow fly when she needed to.
Gally turned back around and ripped the final wooden board from the window. The moment the discarded slab hit the floor, the glass of the window exploded inward like a swarm of crystal bugs.
A Griever's pulsating, bulbous body had already squirmed halfway through the ruined window. Metallic arms with pincers and claws snapping in every direction.
Emily was terrified, she barely heard Minho quickly ushering Chuck out of the room. She let go of the string of the bow, hoping that it would hit its target. The arrow went flying across the room, making a home in the Griever's bulbous skin with a sickening slurping sound.
The monster didn't even seem fazed by the arrow stuck in its skin. One of its long arms reached out for the lifeless body of Newt. That was all it took to break her from her fear. With a scream, she scrambled to her feet. But before she could react, Gally was speaking again. The Griever's arm stopped reaching for Newt, as if it were waiting to hear what Gally had to say.
"No one ever understood!" the boy screamed over the horrible noise of the creature. "No one ever understood what I saw! What the Changing did to me! Don't go back to the real world... You don't want to remember..."
Gally looked between Emily and Thomas- a long, haunted looked that sent chills running up her spine. Then he turned and dove on to the writhing body of the Griever. Emily yelled out as she watched every extended appendage of the monster immediately retract and grasp on to Gally's arms and legs. The boy's body sank several inches into the creature's squishy, bulbous flesh, making a horrific squelching sound. Then, with surprising speed, the Griever pushed itself back outside the shattered window and began descending towards the ground.
Emily staggered towards the jagged, gaping hole. She looked down just in time to see the Griever land and start running across the Glade, Gally's body flinging in the flesh of the creature. Thomas stood beside her, his mouth hanging open as he watched the monster exit into the depths of the Maze. Several other Grievers followed close behind their companion, screeching and roaring as if they were celebrating their victory.
Emily shook her head in disbelief, began backing away from the window, but something caught her eye.
"What is that?" Thomas asked, clearly seeing the figure as well. Emily leaned out the window to get a better look. A lone figure was sprinting across the courtyard of the Glade at a fast pace towards the exit in which Gally had just taken.
Despite the darkness, Emily almost immediately recognized who it was. She screamed, as did Thomas, willing for him to stop.
But it was too late.
Minho, running at full speed, disappeared into the Maze.