Escape to the Hills // Newt x Reader

31

The sand was blazing as the sun dipped into the horizon. Small grains of fire pelted your skin. A sand storm would come soon; you felt it in the way the air shifted.

You hung at the back of the pack again, watching the others trudge along. They sloshed through the sand, legs burning and lungs begging for air without grains of sand tearing at their throats. Frypan had started dropping items from his bag. They littered a sad trail behind you and descended into your wake. They would be buried in a few hours time. You hated to admit your mind wandered to when you'd join them.

Newt stuck beside you, no matter how many times he had to slow his pace, no matter how many times someone called or you told him to join the others. You could see in his eyes there was a fear of what you had admitted. A fear of losing something before it even began. A deeper fear of you finding your way into the sand with Frypan's abandoned supplies.

You looped an arm around his waist when he gave you another side-long look. Maybe a touch would soothe his anxieties. Maybe it would soothe yours. "I'm still here."

"I know."

You smiled a bit. "You don't have to make sure I am. I'm not going anywhere."

He glanced over your face, a bit of doubt clouding his eyes. "It just feels a bit surreal."

"It does, doesn't it?"

"Like if I look away too long, you won't be here when I look back." His arm around your shoulders tightened, as if by saying his worries, they'd become true.

You glanced up at him, trying hard to keep your balance in the sand while focusing on the conversation. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"Only if you do."

"I promise."

"I promise, too."

It wasn't long after that when, cresting another sand dune, your knees gave out. Teresa and Chuck fell out at about the same time. There was no water, almost no food. There were little options. Alby decided to call it when Winston began complaining about flashbacks and migraines. The valley between the sand dunes was your camp for the night.

Thomas, Newt, and Frypan started the night watch rotation. Newt and Frypan each sat on top of a sand dune and faced outwards. Thomas took charge of keeping an eye on the valley where you and the others slept.

You took over caring for Minho, who was worse for wear. He had opened his eyes and spoke something unintelligible before nodding back off. You had at least managed to get the last droplets of water from your canister into his mouth before he was out again. Small wins.

It was just after midnight when Alby woke you for your rotation. You all but had to peel yourself from the warm sand and the comfort of Newt and River against your sides. When you stood, you tucked River into Newt's arms.

There was a strange cold in the air as you made your way up the sand dune. Chuck had taken up post on the other sand dune while Gally watched over the valley. Nights in the scorch were hard to rival. History books liked to tell stories about light pollusion and how, back in the days of big cities and big electricity, it was almost impossible to see stars unless they were as bright as the sun. You found that pretty impossible when looking up at the sky now. There were billions, if not, trillions, of lights in the sky. Scattered like sand grains along the black velvet of the sky. There were colors painted into their formations -- galaxies, if memory served correct. It had been quite a while since you had seen the stars. Being outside in the scorch long enough to see the stars was never something you'd thought you'd do. Even before the Maze.

The stars to your left were beginning to be blotted out in the dark. A wind began to pick up in promise of that sand storm you felt rolling in earlier. It would be quick to descend, but not quick enough to wake anyone just yet. They slept peacefully below you, their clothing a dark splotch on the red sand. You'd let them have this.