Everywhere, Everything ◆ Thomas ◆ TMR

020 - Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are

The Grievers came quicker than expected.

Everyone had started the night out in quiet panic, pulling themselves together to gather supplies; food from the kitchen, sleeping bags, torches, weapons. Her own weapon of choice had been a simple dagger. She'd asked for a gun, but Newt had simply deadpanned, reminding her of her incident with the Slicers on her first working day. He barely let her have the dagger.

She'd grown tired as the hours dragged by, but it felt out of place with the light inside the Glade. It wasn't even growing dark. They really had to get out of there soon, or she'd definitely go insane. She could barely stand the bleak atmosphere as it was, but to not even have night? To have no sense of time passing?

Yeah, no thank you.

She was rounding people up, a small ticking echoing inside her head like she'd swallowed a clock. Everyone was to go to the Homestead for the night, and quick before the Grievers found out the doors were open. She wondered if they could communicate with each other somehow, and if when the first one saw the open feast, it would notify the others.

"Chuck," she whispered to herself, not having seen him anywhere. She turned in a circle, searching for his face in the crowd. He couldn't be in the Homestead, because she'd just been there. She knew he would have found either her or Thomas immediately, but he hadn't been with him either.

She grabbed a young boy by the arm. "Have you seen Chuck?" She questioned him, but he shook his head, his chest rising and falling with panicked breaths. "Get to the Homestead. Now."

He nodded and scurried away immediately, gripping his unlit torch tighter in his hand. She raced for the Deadheads, not finding sight of the boy anywhere. "Chuck?" She called. "Chuck!"

Her heart was racing faster. She didn't care how long it took; she wasn't hiding before she knew he was safe. She cupped her hands around her mouth, calling for him louder. Her voice cracked, a sob getting stuck in her throat. It was all too much, and she had to fight not to break down.

The crazy thing was, she wasn't even worried for her own safety like she should've been. She was scared for everyone else. Somehow the thought put her at ease, because there was no way she could be a bad person. That convinced her more than anything. If she was really as bad as she'd tried to tell herself, she wouldn't be worried about anyone but herself.

But she was. She was so incredibly worried that it dulled her senses, left her heart aching so much it made her nauseous. "Chuck!" She cried. Where the hell was that kid?

"Ari!"

She almost sobbed in relief as he burst through the bushes. His eyes were bloodshot and wide, snot running down from his red nose as he heaved shaky breaths. "Chuck, for fucks sake." Her voice didn't come out as reprimanding as she wanted them to, but rather relieved. She got to her knees in front of him, pulling him into a quick hug. "What the hell were you thinking? You need to get to the Homestead. Now."

"I dropped my figurine," he said. She didn't know whether to hit him or hug him again. "But I found it."

"It's just a figurine, Chuck. You'll die if you stay here," she said sternly, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Get to the Homestead. Now."

He nodded and clutched the wood in his hands. "What about you?"

"I'll be right there," she promised, but he eyed her suspiciously. She didn't have time for his questions. She didn't have time to sit here and comfort him, as much as it pained her. She needed to make sure there wasn't anyone else left out in the open. She'd have no blood on her hands tonight. "Go."

"Wait," he said, holding the figurine out towards her.

She shook her head, closing his fingers around it. "I already told you Chuck. It's yours."