Our W.I.C.K.E.D Fate (The W.I.C.K.E.D Girl sequel)

5

When Emily awoke, she first noticed that she was covered by a fluffy coat, coat that had not been there when she'd fallen asleep.

Someone had placed it on her. Someone had cared enough to. 

She looked around, rubbing at her drowsy eyes. Isabelle was sleeping peacefully, Chuck was curled up into a ball, Minho was snoring, Thomas had drool on his chin and Newt rested by Ella's side, her head leaning on his shoulder. Emily remained silent, regarding the group, but then Ella woke with a yawn. 

"Morning," Ella smiled, stretching her arms above her head.

"Morning," Emily replied, then proceeded to ignore the other girl's attempts at making conversation. 

After realising she would be rejected no matter how hard she struggled, Ella cleared her throat. "Look, Emily. The boys didn't tell me a single thing about you before you came here, so whatever you meant to them then, it's clearly gone now."

Emily's eyebrows shot up her forehead. She couldn't help but snicker. "And how would you know that? Have you ever wondered why you weren't told anything?" 

Newt shifted, his eyes slowly opening. He yawned. "Good morning. Everything alright, girls?"

Ella nodded enthusiastically. "Just chatting, Newtie."

Emily's head felt as if it would split in two. 

Newtie.

Newtie.

The stupid nickname told her so much even though it was her first time hearing it. She groaned and braced her head within her hands. 

"You alright?" Newt asked. 

Though Emily sensed genuine worry in his tone, she shook it off. "Yeah, just fine," she mumbled.

Soon, everyone was up and ready to move forth—the house had been just a temporary shelter for them, too. 

"We're still close to the hoard of Cranks we encountered last night, so if we don't wanna get eaten, we gotta go," Minho said.

In a few minutes, everyone stood in the middle of the empty desert, ready to begin another trip. Everyone was given a sip of water before they headed into the cruel depths of the hot sands. Emily and Isabelle stuck together, trailing behind the group, though not too far. Emily caught the boys glance at her from time to time, their gazes laced with nostalgia. All she could do was sigh and avert her eyes whenever they met theirs. It was clear Newt was the most affected of the group—his brown eyes unveiled a kind of despair Emily had never seen before. 

The group made their way across the golden dunes. Before noon, though, they were brought to a halt by Ella's sudden collapse. "I can't walk any farther," she said, head bowed. 

Emily pressed her lips together as Newt knelt beside the blonde girl and handed her his water bottle. 

"I'll carry you," he offered, his tone gentle. 

Emily's fingernails bit into the flesh of her palms as Newt hoisted Ella up and into his arms. She slung her arms around his neck and, without any further ado, the group resumed its journey. 

"She's gonna strangle him," Isabelle whispered, cutting through Emily's thoughts, and Emily couldn't help but laugh quietly. 

Silence ensued. The wind itself seemed to pause as the group walked across the desert, their heads shrouded in thin, worn scarves to prevent sunburn. 

And then Emily realised, her footsteps faltering, that they were not alone. 

Slowly and surely, they had been surrounded by what Thomas had told her were called Cranks. It didn't take her long to recognize the bald one she had encountered the previous day.  

"Well, well, well," he said, his hoarse voice ripping through the silence. "If it isn't the sweet, funny girl from yesterday!"

Minho and Thomas were the first at Emily's side. The group formed a circle as they drew their weapons, shoulder to shoulder. Emily fetched the gun from her waistband and tightened her grip around it. "Came back for another round?" she asked, the taunting words echoing through the scorching air. 

"A challenge, then," the Crank said, clear despite the madness boiling in his bloodshot eyes. He revealed his pale gums and rotten teeth in a sinister grin as he raised his hand and beckoned the dozen other Cranks forward. "Be quick, darlings. I'm starving."

He took a step backwards. 

Emily swiftly pulled out the blade from her boot and handed it to Isabelle. "Stab everyone who isn't us," she said.

And the Cranks attacked.

Emily took a blind shot, watched a Crank stumble as its arm flew back. Her pulse roaring in her eardrums, her head whipped to her left, where Newt was slashing at the closest Crank with his machete. Ella stood behind him, her hands empty—defenceless. Emily noticed the Crank sneaking up behind her and didn't hesitate. With a loud bang, the bullet pierced the Crank's skull. It crashed to the ground and Ella's head snapped up. She locked eyes with Emily, who didn't have time to decipher the feeling in them before she turned to help her sister. 

Emily's thoughts were annihilated by the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She emptied the pistol's chamber and then caught the knife Minho threw her, continuing her attack. It was only after her hands were covered in dark, thick blood that she realised the Cranks were all dead. 

Emily caught Newt's gaze as she raised her eyes from her sullied hands. He mouthed to her, "Are you okay?" and she nodded. 

Someone hollered from behind them. Emily spun, ready for a second attack, but the person in the distance didn't give any sign of wanting to approach them. 

Which meant they weren't a Crank. 

And that only meant they were help—or an even worse danger.