Desire ❃ newt

cнapтer 33

I was speechless. Everything would be different now. No sun, no supplies, no protection from the Grievers. Teresa had been right from the beginning—everything had changed. I felt as if my breath had solidified, lodged itself in my throat.

Alby pointed at the girl. "I want her locked up. Now. Billy! Jackson! Put her in the Slammer, and ignore every word that comes out of her shuck mouth."

Teresa didn't react, but Thomas did enough for the both of them. "What're you talking about? Alby, you can't—" He stopped talking when Alby's fiery eyes shot such a look of anger at him. "But ... how could you possibly blame her for the walls not closing?"

Newt stepped up, lightly placed a hand on Alby's chest and pushed him back. "How could we not, Tommy? She bloody admitted it herself."

Thomas turned to look at Teresa.

"Just be glad you ain't goin' with her, Thomas," Alby said; he gave both me and Thomas one last glare before leaving.

Why was he giving me a dirty look? I did nothing.

Billy and Jackson came forward and grabbed Teresa by both arms, started escorting her away.

Before they could enter the trees, though, Newt stopped them. "Stay with her. I don't care what happens, no one's gonna touch this girl. Swear your lives on it."

The two guards nodded, then walked away, Teresa in tow.

Though there had been no discernible change in the light since the sun and blue sky hadn't appeared that morning, it still felt like a darkness spread over the Glade. As Newt and Alby gathered the Keepers and put them in charge of making assignments and getting their groups inside the Homestead within the hour, I felt like nothing more than a spectator, not sure how I could help.

Trust me, I tried to help. Newt just shooed me away.

The Builders—without their leader, Gally, who was still missing—were ordered to put up barricades at each open Door; they obeyed, although I knew there wasn't enough time and there weren't materials to do much good. It almost seemed to me as if the Keepers wanted people busy, wanted to delay the inevitable panic attacks. I helped as the Builders gathered every loose item they could find and piled them in the gaps, nailing things together as best they could. It looked ugly and pathetic and scared me to death—no way that'd keep the Grievers out.

As Thomas worked, I caught glimpses of the other jobs going on across the Glade.

Every flashlight in the compound was gathered and distributed to as many people as possible; Newt said he planned for everyone to sleep in the Homestead that night, and that they'd kill the lights, except for emergencies. Frypan's task was to take all the nonperishable food out of the kitchen and store it in the Homestead, in case they got trapped there—I could only imagine how horrible that'd be. Others were gathering supplies and tools; I saw Minho carrying weapons from the basement to the main building. Alby had made it clear they could take no chances: they'd make the Homestead their fortress, and must do whatever it took to defend it.

I finally snuck away from the Builders and helped Minho, carrying up boxes of knives and barbwire-wrapped clubs. Then Minho said he had a special assignment from Newt, and more or less told me to get lost, refusing to answer any of my questions.

This hurt my feelings, but I left anyway, really wanting to talk to Newt about something else. I finally found him, crossing the Glade on his way to the Blood House.

"Newt!" I called out, running to catch up. "You have to listen to me."

Newt stopped so suddenly I almost ran into him. The older boy turned to give me such an annoyed look I thought twice about saying anything.