The Defective Soldier || Newt

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕍𝕠𝕚𝕔𝕖

✃✃✃✃✃✃✃✃✃

"Count from one to five. Promise me that you'll remember." A voice, different from all those he had heard so far, appeared out of the blue.

Somehow, it felt strangely comforting. More so when he could actually make out what the voice, a boy not older than twelve or thirteen, was saying. The tone did surprise him, too. Part of it made it seem like an order, though it felt too pain-filled to be anything but a plea.

He tried to answer, or rather, ask what the boy was talking about. However, his mouth wouldn't move. Nothing worked: moving, talking, making any kind of sounds. Whatever was happening, it was too different from his other nightmarish, strange dreams.

"Those are also the stages of Grief." His own voice now appeared, though not due to his own struggles.

It had just appeared like a spark.

There was no telling how young he was, since his voice was unnaturally high-pitched. But he had a strange feeling, as if his gut was answering him instead of his mind.

He was twelve.

"Well, the fifth's acceptance."

"I should change my number, then. How about the second?"

"Anger? You? Come on, Li, be serious."

"It's better than the fifth."

"Forget the stages." The boy huffed tiredly. "Just try not to blow WICKED up while I'm gone. The last thing I need is for you to get in trouble while I'm not around . . . And without my memories . . ."

"Hey, it's OK. I'll be here, waiting for you. I'll remind you about everything. Even if you don't believe me." There was a pause, accompanied by an unknown warmness on his right cheek. "I promise—"

A hand on his shoulder shook him awake, forcing William to gasp for air, which seemed like his lungs had been deprived of for a long time. His eyes rose to meet the person that had woken him up. George stood there, giving a quick glimpse to his right.

There was no time to question what was going on as another hand landed on his shoulder, only this time forcefully getting him up and moving.

"Do you want to die? Move!"

And so he ran.

George was next to him, following their team to the inside of a factory-like building. They didn't know what they were running from, nor did they have the time to check. The screech of tires coming to a sudden halt could be heard in the distance, followed by the very noticeable sounds of gunshots. All that added to the grunts, yells, and inhuman screams, William could only guess that there were Cranks around.

When the door closed behind them, they finally took a moment to breathe and take in their surroundings. The previous theory hadn't been too far-fetched. The so-called Sanctuary looked like nothing more than a factory. People walked around, transporting material from one point to another, and opening tall, metallic doors, which had panels at the side.

Mae rounded up everyone behind her, despite Rowan arguing to be with her. They concentrated their attention on their sides, as they weren't short of potential threats inside the building, with no way to run off or escape.

"Welcome to the Sanctuary," Janson said, gesturing to the massive space. "You may think of it as your home for the duration of your mission."

The group exchanged dubious glances. They doubted they would ever consider that installation a 'home'. Nothing about it felt protective or safe. It was an unfriendly place, nothing but wariness all around.