The Defective Soldier || Newt

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟕

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕠𝕤𝕤

✃✃✃✃✃✃✃✃✃

"That makes us eighteen left," mumbled William.

He sat on the ground between Aris and Leen, while Minho and Newt sat across from them. Everyone was scattered around the provisional shelter. Henry and Rowan chatted with Frypan and Chuck, Bea and George were talking with the two boys from A, and Mae and Flor tried to distract Winston.

"We're still many, but if you think about it, we could get easily ambushed."

Aris grabbed his bat, which he had left lying around before. He weighed it in his hand and glanced around the shelter, counting those who had weapons. His eyebrows raised slightly at the number of people without weapons. There weren't many, but that someone wouldn't have picked out even one knife when they were unprotected in an unknown place was baffling.

"Most of us have some sort of weapon," said Aris. "We just need to get to the mountains."

William huffed and took his head back to rest it against the pillar behind him. "If we get there before we run out of water and food."

Contrary to him, Newt kept the bit of sense of humour that he had after all the loss. He raised his head, locking eyes with William as he smiled. "You're one buggin' ray of sunshine, you know that?"

"Says you," William said, watching Newt's eyes soften as they continued to stare at each other. "Oh, sorry, did you want to give us some of your wisdom, oh, all-mighty Glue?"

The sudden nickname caused those around to laugh softly. Mostly at the fact that William's tone hadn't changed as he said it. If anyone were to walk into their conversation, they would have believed that William was serious.

"What kind of nickname is that?" Newt asked, joining in the group's laughter. "And as if you would listen."

"It's a personal nickname only for you. You look like the type of person that keeps everyone together." William averted his eyes, trying to get his grin to subside before Mae, whose eyes were on them, could find another reason to lecture him. "Or am I wrong, mum?"

"Liam, don't talk to your mother like that," Minho reprimanded him, stifling a laugh.

"He's not our mother," Leen argued, trying to keep her grin to the minimum. "Flor's our mother, and Mae our dad. You two have no power over us."

Minho's eyes landed on Leen, a smirk playing across his face. "Is that a challenge, Greenie?"

"You bet it is," Leen said confidently.

The challenge, however, didn't take place. Not knowing why or what had happened, the five watched Frypan rush over towards Winston. There was a single gunshot. Everyone got to their feet. With their hearts beating louder than what their chests could muffle, their eyes landed on Winston, laying on the ground while struggling to breathe. He didn't have the gun, Frypan did.

Before anyone could give an explanation, Newt turned back, yelling for Thomas and Teresa to get back. Everyone crowded around Winston, unknowingly keeping a safe distance between them and the boy.

"What's going on?" Newt asked, turning back to the group.

"What happened?" questioned Teresa.

Frypan pointed the gun at the sky. "I don't know. He just woke up and grabbed the gun and then tried to . . ."

He didn't finish explaining, nor was there a need to. The few people who were looking at Frypan got their attention back to Wiston, kneeling on the sand, barely holding himself up with his hands.