The Defective Soldier || Newt

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟔

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕚𝕥𝕪

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William plumped down on his bed, burying his face in his pillow, while he heard Mae and Henry mutter their complaints about their countless failed attempts at finding the smallest clue of the Right Arm's whereabouts.

"You'll suffocate," Flor told him with her characteristic, caring tone. "Take your mask off at least."

"Months using them and I still can't get used to it." Bea sat down on the bed across from William's, taking her own mask off with a huff. "All day with these darn things. The sun will burn our entire body except for our mouths."

Leen sat beside her, wrapping an arm around Bea's waist. "Well, at least like that, you could get a tan."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny, Leen," Bea answered, unamused.

Without a word, George pushed William's legs off the bed to sit down. William didn't react to it. He simply sat up and rested his head on George's shoulder as they took their masks off. There was no denying that they were uncomfortable, but it was better to be uncomfortable for some hours than being infected for the rest of their lives.

"Tomorrow's the big day," Rowan reminded them. "Everyone mentally ready for the new Birdies?"

"No," whined Henry. "I don't want Birdies. I want it to be just the eight of us."

"Twenty Birdies at that." Mae rubbed her forehead tiredly, taking a seat next to Leen. "Darn it, I need a break."

"A six-month break at least." Flor laughed softly, seeing as the rest sniggered at her comment.

"That would be nice," said William, lifting his head from George's shoulder to take off his boots. "Anyway, soon enough, one way or another, we'll have our freedom."

It was strange for them to imagine that. Freedom. Being able to go wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted. Living for themselves, not having to worry about being killed or someone dying.

"Which way would be faster, though?" Henry wondered out loud.

No one could say they hadn't thought the same as him. However, listening to their thoughts out loud made them realise how vicious it actually was. They were deciding on the fate of hundreds of people, children between them, just depending on how early they wanted to achieve their freedom.

"We're very cruel, aren't we?" Flor muttered, hugging her own body despite not being cold.

At first, there was no verbal reply to Flor's worry, making it an answer in itself. Was it cruel? Perhaps. Could they find another way to think about the situation? Not at the moment.

Their leader, however, collected herself before anyone else and, without getting up from the bed, grabbed Flor's hand. "It'll be fine, Flor." Mae intertwined their hands, comfortingly rubbing her thumb over the back of Flor's hand. "We got each other, and that won't change. Let them call us cruel. It's all a means to survive."

Flor glanced down at their hands, then at Mae's eyes. "That's the thing, Mae. I don't care what they say. I care what I tell myself at night. How many lies will I have to repeat until I believe them? How many more faces will appear in my nightmares?"

"I think we're cruel," said George. "But I also think we've got no other option. We'll at least give them a chance. They don't take it? Not our fault."

"That's called a threat." Henry chuckled bitterly, though more to himself than towards George. "Apparently, that's all we know how to do."