⁰⁰     ▇ ¨. ༢ ͎۪۫ 𝒐𝒏𝒆 ... ❜

━━  ❛  𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒇𝒆. ❜  ‧˖˚. ☄︎ ͎۪۫ ◞⁺.
❪ part 03. location: unknown.
©kiiizones, all rights reserved ❫.

"𝑰 𝑪𝑨𝑵 𝑭𝑬𝑬𝑳 you thinking."

The sky outside had long since fallen dark. Soft light from the overhead lamps cast flickering gold shadows against the walls. They had been sat, cramped together in the small passenger area of the helicopter for what felt like hours. Emis felt sore everywhere, sore and exhausted. Her muscles were gripped with a tense, dull ache; the sealed wound on her arm was throbbing painfully from where the Griever's tail had sliced up into it. She felt filthy, hands caked in oil and blood and what reeked of gasoline and ash. But the smell didn't seem to bother Newt.

He sat against the window, she in the circle of his arms. The way she was sitting, with her legs bunched up to her chest, twisted at an angle so that her head was in the crook of his neck, should have felt awkward. But all she could feel was exhaustion. Exhaustion, and relief, and anger, and sadness. His arms were warm and safe around her, his heartbeat familiar and slow; she felt his fingertips find a hair that had come loose from her ponytail and begin to fiddle with it, almost idly.

"It's bloody distracting." He added, in a whisper. The others had either drifted off to sleep or fallen into a gentle, slightly stunned silence; the propellers of the helicopter drumming together had blurred out into a sound that was oddly comforting, continuous and uninterrupted. The man who had helped them out had manoeuvred his way into the cockpit, but every so often he would glance over his shoulder to check if they were alright.

Despite everything, Emis smiled. "Sorry." She whispered back. "I guess I can't help it."

She felt him sigh around her. The smell of him was familiar enough for her to find it almost overwhelmingly comforting; woodsmoke and sawdust and cut grass and apples and mint and sunlight. Sweet and earthy and Newt. A wave of giddy, almost hysterical happiness washed over her, as if, despite everything, he was still there. And that was more than good enough.

"Let's think of something else," he said, his voice gentle. He was still playing with her hair. "Something absurd."

Emis twisted around so that she was facing him. She was pressed so close against him that if she moved forwards, just a few inches, there would be no more space between them. "Okay." She said softly. "Tell me something absurd."

He closed his eyes thoughtfully. "Minho in a tutu." He said, and she released a burst of laughter, clapping a hand onto her mouth immediately.

"Would you guys keep it down?" Someone hissed.

"Sorry, mate." Newt replied. Emis heard Ed grumble something incoherent, but most likely mildly offensive, before falling back to sleep.

Newt flashed her a grin. "Whoops." He whispered.

"That was your fault." She hissed, in mock-protest. "You made me laugh."

"What can I say?" He dropped the strand of hair and brought his hand up to cradle the side of her face until her head was resting against his shoulder. "It's my favourite sound in the world."

Emis chuckled quietly, wriggling around to swat him on the shoulder. "That was so sappy." She said.

She felt his quiet laughter reverberate through his chest as he said, "I know, I know. Sorry."

She relaxed back into him. "Next thing I know you'll be trying to persuade me to call you something sickening and endearing like, 'love-muffin'."

Newt made a sound of disgust. "Absolutely not." He said, and he sounded so serious that Emis had to fight down another bubble of laughter threatening to surface. She opened her mouth to suggest another pet-name, but before she could say anything, the man was clambering out of his seat and out of the cockpit. Emis realised faintly that she didn't even know his name.

"We're nearly there," he said gruffly. She couldn't tell who exactly he was speaking to, but he said it in the group's general direction. "Get ready. We got sixty seconds tops before we have to turn this chopper 'round. Get your friends up."

"Where's 'there'?" Minho asked, in a groggy voice. The man didn't seem to hear him as he slotted his helmet into place. Emis watched as Newt caught Minho's eye, and shrugged.

She got to her feet roughly. The ceiling of the helicopter was just high enough for her to stand at full height, but Newt, who was much taller than her, had to stoop so that he was hunched over awkwardly.

"Ed," Minho was saying. "Ed, get up. Come on, you ugly shank." He shoved him awake roughly, and fell back onto his knees to avoid the slap that Ed threw roughly in his general direction.

"Don't fucking do that again." He grumbled. His grumpiness wore off as he realised that everyone had started to get up and stretch━as much as the helicopter seemed to allow them to━and he began to sit up hastily. "What's going on?"

"Look!" Teresa said, suddenly. "There! I see something!"

"What?" Newt hastened towards the window, where she was pointing. He drew in a sharp inhale. "Bloody hell ..."

"What? What's happening?" Emis went to stand beside him at the window. She had to crane her neck in a way that meant her forehead was pressed up against the glass, and she found it uncomfortably warm. Like the glass of an oven window that was yet to reach its full heat.

As the helicopter broke through a thicket of dark clouds, Emis felt everything inside her tense up again, like someone had strung her up along a wire.

On the ground, a hundred feet below them, was what appeared to be a large warehouse, lit up like a huge, shimmering beacon against the darkness. The lights surrounding it stamped its silhouette into an odd, squarish shape against the sand. Emis wondered distractedly whether the people who ran this place often kept their lights so bright. It wasn't exactly low-profile.

Over the roar of the propellers, she turned to yell over her shoulder, "What is this place?"

Again, the man seemed not to hear her, apparently engrossed in a conversation with his co-pilot.

"He's talkative." Newt said dryly from beside her. He nodded his head. "Someone ought to wake Tommy up before its too late."

Suddenly, before anyone could react, the helicopter dove forwards. Emis felt her stomach flip, holding onto a groove in the wall for support, as it choppered through the clouds and took a sharp turn, drawing closer to the huge warehouse.

As they neared the ground, Emis realised that the warehouse had been installed in the centre of what looked like a circular valley, surrounded by a circle of sandy hills that rose up around it, like the crenellations of a castle.

"What's in there?!" Teresa yelled over the noise.

The man, who had emerged from the cockpit, replied, "S'mwhere safe! No time to explain! Just get ready to jump as soon as we hit the ground, alright?"

There was no time to reply. Emis felt her stomach give another painful lurch as the helicopter finally touched down. Before it had even settled, the door was being wrenched open, and a spill of sandy night air came rushing in. People were ushering her out hastily, and she almost tripped off the edge of the platform, her feet stinging as they hit the ground.

A swirling gust of dry air and sand had begun to kick up as the propellers of the helicopter began to speed up again, but Emis had little time to take in much of her surroundings. She was being hastened forwards, with a glance over her shoulder she saw that Minho had fallen back for Thomas, but someone━Newt━was taking her hand again, and pulling her with him across the sand.

Emis blinked and spluttered as huge floodlights spilled out from the warehouse that towered before them. As they moved towards it in the sand, more of the building seemed to sharpen like a camera finally coming into focus. The warehouse rose up against the darkness like the prow of a ship emerging in the distance; it was oddly shaped and packed together, like a series of different-sized buildings had been compressed into one huge complex. There was a pair of huge metal doors that were shuddering open, slowly, to let them in, and there were bright lights everywhere, casting ghostly fluorescence across the sand in waves. Distantly, through the ringing in her ears, Emis could hear an alarm coming from somewhere.

Everything had seemed to snap into noise and brightness and chaos. She heard a shout from behind them, and turned to see that Thomas and Minho had nearly caught up. Suddenly, someone was screaming. "Cranks! We got Cranks!"

Behind them, rising up in pinprick silhouettes against the sky as they emerged over the edge of the horizon, Emis could see that there were people moving towards them.

With a closer look, however, she realised that there was something unhinging about the way they moved, almost as if they had barely any control. A flood of light passed over one of the silhouettes, and Emis was sure that her heart had stopped inside her chest.

She could not tell whether the figure was a man or a woman. Its clothes hung from its body in rags, there were two black, sunken holes in its face where its eyes should have been, and its mouth was open, trailing split and blood and something dark and thick. Its skin was a network of veins and sores and burns. A line of bullets ripped into its chest and it fell into the sand in a crumpled heap.

Her stomach wrenched with familiar nausea before Newt was yanking hard on her hand, and yelling over the noise, "Come on, Emis! We've got to get out of here, c'mon━"

"Tell 'em to take off!" Someone was yelling. Emis couldn't shake the image out of her head, and the creature's sunken eyes were like two black spots in her vision as they stumbled, finally, through the doors, her feet stinging from the impact of hitting concrete instead of sand.

There came the sound of a huge, echoing groan. She jumped, whirling to see the towering doors, with a final, swirling gust of dry, sandy air, grinding to a close behind them. The chaos that had erupted continued on the other side, and Emis could still hear the hard scatter of bullets as those creatures━ Cranks, someone had called them━continued to advance forwards.

As the doors sealed shut, finally, Emis was hit with a wave of dizziness so strong she was forced a few steps backwards. "Don't trust them! Don't trust anyone, not even━" The words of the boy from the video screen back in the WICKED lab rose up to the front of her mind like the surging red flash of a flare light. Don't trust anyone? But isn't that exactly what she had done, from the moment she had broken out into daylight?

Horror wrenching her stomach, she turned to take in their new surroundings. The entrance of the warehouse appeared to be the size of a large plane hangar; there were people everywhere, a mixture of military soldiers and workers wearing overalls and hard hats. She tried to catch onto anything that could tell her where she was, or who these people were, but she was cut off by a man approaching them hurriedly.

He had cropped blond hair, and could have been in his forties, maybe. Perhaps fifties. Emis wondered distractedly how he'd survived this long, in a world that seemed overrun with nothing but desert and disease.

She didn't have time to wonder long. The man dashed towards them, decked in heavy military gear, and Emis eyed the gun slung on his belt with faint uneasiness as he came to stand, breathless, in front of Thomas, who jerked back as the man reached forwards to put a hand on his shoulder.

He let out a huff, adjusting his weapon. "Alright, kids!" He said it in a rush. There were people dashing forwards, past them, with more guns and helmets and gear. "We gotta get you out of here! Let's go!"

"Wait━" Thomas tried to interject. "Wait, who are you? What is this place━"

"There's no time!" The man yelled over the roar of noise. "Come on!"

He didn't check to see if they were following him as he turned to run back the way he had come. Thomas broke into a run after him, hurried questions spilling from his chest in a constant stream. The others rushed after them, Minho at the front, Ed beside him, and following them were Frypan, Teresa, and Winston, and Jack, a boy who Emis had never spoken to. She followed behind them alongside Newt in a tense silence, gripping onto his hand in the fear that if she let go she wouldn't be able to hold herself up.

They were led towards the far end of the hangar-sized room, passing small loading trucks and huge storage units and boxes and crates stacked on top of one another. To the side there was a wide, metal door with a series of numbers and letters painted across it, and the man wrenched it open.

The door opened into what Emis glimpsed to be a storage room, with shelves and containers and stacked wires and crates. There was hardly any time for it to register, though. The man was yelling again, ushering them in with a hand. He moved to close the door, but Thomas interjected.

"Hey!" His voice rose to a shout as he wedged his shoulder between the doorjamb. "What's going on out there?"

"Nothing we can't handle." The man replied shortly, and slammed the door shut with a bang.

They were plunged into a dry, stale darkness, which smelled faintly of salt and warmth, though she couldn't say how.

Emis felt something cold and pleasant ripple up against the back of her neck, and realised faintly that this room must have air conditioning. The only thing that Emis could remember about air conditioning was that it was rare. And expensive. And blissfully cold.

Though temperature didn't affect her in the ways that it would a normal human being, the wave of cold breeze brought an odd quell of relief. As if her body remembered air conditioning more than her mind did.

The darkness lasted only for a moment. It was oddly comforting against the whirlwind of bright light and harsh sounds that they had battled through moments ago. Emis felt Newt give her hand a squeeze as the sound of a generator kicking into life floated up from somewhere, and then suddenly the lights thudded on, and the room was illuminated in a wash of shadowy fluorescence. And Emis felt her mouth fall open.

In front of them was a metal table, around three metres long and half that length wide, and every inch of it was covered in food. Cans of steaming soup and stew, metal plates piled with potatoes and salad and rice. Baskets filled with rolls of bread. There was a huge grilled fish on a wooden board, a platter of chicken legs, a bowl of what looked like an odd grain mixed with vegetables. There was fresh fruit, a plate of something foreign but sweet-looking. Two huge metal jugs that were filled with water and cubes of ice, and another jug with a liquid that was shocking pink and somehow translucent.

She felt a wave of hunger grip her stomach. Thomas had given up on his attempt to break the door down, and was staring at the table as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. There was a moment of registering silence.

"Dibs on the rice!" Frypan called out, suddenly, and whatever had frozen them in place seemed to dislodge immediately. The whole group surged towards the table in a clamour of shouts and exclamations.

There was another tide of silence as everyone ate. Emis had opted to take up a plate and pile it up with chicken and potatoes and salad; it had been so long since she'd eaten anything, she'd almost forgotten that she was hungry. And thirsty. There was a whole pitcher of water just a few feet away from her, at the foot of the table, and she could almost hear the ice cubes inside it clinking together. But there was no rush. She'd move onto that later.

"This is way better than Frypan's slop," Winston said through a mouthful of rice and chicken, breaking the silence.

"Well Frypan is no longer your bitch." Frypan shot back, with relish.

It was only after a few mouthfuls that Emis realised that something was wrong. The food in her mouth was turning bitter, and somehow too sweet. Like it had gone spoilt. She swallowed with a grimace, tapping her tongue against the roof of her mouth to try and get rid of the taste.

"You alright?" Newt said from beside her, having the decency to swallow his mouthful first. "What's that look for?" He was smiling. Emis threw him a puzzled look.

"You don't taste that?" She asked him.

"Taste what?" He titled his head to the side. "Other than a bloody good meal?" He raised his voice, just a little, so that Frypan could hear him. Then he ducked to avoid a spoon that came flying towards him in response.

Emis swallowed the last of the bitter taste and shrugged. "I don't know." She said, "Doesn't it taste weird to you?"

"No." A look of confusion passed over his face. "It tastes fine."

She shrugged again. "Maybe it's just mine━" She started, but he had already reached forwards and grabbed the leg of chicken up off her plate. "Wait━!" She tried, but he had already taken a bite. And a big one at that.

There was a pause as he chewed the food, his face thoughtful, and then swallowed it. He shook his head. "Emis, it tastes fine." He said, his brow furrowing. "Like chicken. Literally." He added with a laugh.

She sighed. "You know what, you're right. I'm probably so hungry that my body doesn't recognise food anymore."

"Can that happen?" Someone━Minho━interjected in a worried voice.

"No it can't." Newt replied, but he was smiling. "Don't overthink this, love." In this light, an odd mix of paleness and shadow was cast over his face. Somehow it darkened the brown in his eyes,  brought out the features of his face and made them more prominent. Momentarily, at the look in his eyes, Emis forgot what had been worrying her as he brought a hand up to linger on her shoulder. "Just try and enjoy as much as you can." He said, and Emis smiled back.

"You're right." She said again, trying to push down the uneasiness. "I'm probably just overthinking things." The conversation was over as he turned back to continue eating his food.

But the uneasiness didn't go away, and it worsened when she took another bite of food and that odd, too-sweet rotten taste flooded her mouth again.

Fighting the urge to throw up, Emis settled on water instead. She was exhausted, and the shock of everything was still wearing off, and she wasn't in any mood to risk poisoning herself. The water seemed fine, cold and refreshing. She downed the first two cups before she'd even realised it, but decided to slow down to pace herself.

It hit her; like something hard and cold and painful slamming into her chest, Emis felt everything inside her freeze into ice as the memory of Chuck's words came rushing back. "Not trying to drown yourself, are you?" With a small gasp, Emis lost her grip on the cup in her hands and watched as it bounced off the edge of the table, water spilling everywhere, and clattered to the floor.

"Emis?" Newt looked at her in alarm. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She replied, a little sharply. "Sorry. I'm fine." She added, with a sigh.

"You're not." He cut back, but his voice was soft. He had lowered it so that the others could not hear him. "Emis, sweetheart." He said gently. "Tell me what's wrong. Tell me what I can do. What's going on?"

She shook her head. "It's not━it's fine." She whispered back, with a half-smile. "I guess I'm still shaken up. From everything that's happened."

He chuckled. "I'm not surprised." He opened his mouth to continue, but Ed cut him off loudly.

"I don't know if you guys can tell, but we can all hear what you're saying." He said. There were a few laughs in response. Emis felt herself go red. "While it's cute, and all," he added, "please wait until I've digested my food before getting too intense. I don't want to throw up, this stuff's actually good━"

He ducked as Newt threw something━a bit of potato━at him, and missed. It got him right in the face. Letting out a curse, Ed wiped the potato-mush off of his face and shot Newt a glare that was crackling thunder. "Oh," he said, with a small, evil smile. "It's on, lover-boy."

He reached forwards, grabbing a handful of the odd, brownish grain, and threw it at him. Emis stepped back as Newt let out a yell, dropping to the floor as if trying to doge flying bullets instead of flying grain. "Is that the best you've got?" He shot back with a breathless laugh, getting to his feet.

"Quick!" Someone was yelling, and then there was food flying everywhere. Somehow, the two sides of the table had formed battalions, and the room was filled with the sounds of shrieking laughter and yells of, "━Get him!━" and, "━not the rice━NOT THE RICE━" and, "━Minho, what the heck━you're on our side━"

In the end, Ed won, but only because he hadn't stopped throwing since the fight had started. Emis felt an odd sense of giddy excitement and happiness. At being caught in a battle that wasn't really a battle. Of being able to enjoy this, the company of her friends, without the threat of something horrible and imminent looming over her.

The giddiness was replaced, suddenly, by another bout of dizziness. It crashed into her like a wave falling against the shore, and she stumbled back a few steps as a sharp, nauseating pain ripped up through her stomach.

"Emis━" Newt stepped towards her, but she threw a hand out to stop him.

"Don't." She said, with a wheeze. "I think I'm going to be sick."

There was a pause filled with silence as the others watched her with bated breath, their faces a mixture of shock and confusion and apprehension.

Very slowly, the sharp stabbing pain in her stomach subsided. The rising lump inside her throat dislodged, and she let out a short breath of relief. "I think it's okay." She said, after a moment. Newt almost collapsed with relief, moving towards her hesitantly and taking her into his arms. "No hugging," she added with the small twist of a smile. "I don't think it's over just yet."

"Emis?" It was Thomas. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure." She replied. "I just feel a little sick, that's all. Seriously," she added, at their dubious expressions. "It's fine. Nothing I'm not used to."

Thomas opened his mouth to say something else, but Teresa cut him off.

"Here," She said, stepping forwards. She passed Emis a cup of water. "Drink this. It'll help."

She was right. The more she drank, the more the pain in her stomach seemed to fade. She finished the cup and was relieved that whatever had lodged itself between her ribs and her stomach seemed to dislodge, and she could breathe properly again. "Thanks." She said with a long exhale. "You're right." The memory of the younger Teresa in her dream floated distantly to the front of her mind."Huh. You're kind of smart."

She saw Teresa's eyes flash with something, as if she could hear what Emis was thinking, before they returned to their usual sparkling blue. She smiled.

"It's fine." She replied. There was a pause.

"Well." Frypan said, mostly to break the awkward silence. "I'm stuffed after that. I could take a nap."

"Same, man." Minho said, reaching to stretch his arms up above his head, his joints cracking loudly as he settled back.

"That's disgusting." Ed said pointedly. "You know that, right?"

"If it bothers you so much," Minho said with a shot of annoyance, "You could always give me a massage."

"Yeah, no." Ed replied. "That's, uh, that's never happening."

Minho wiggled his eyebrows at him. "Are you sure? My muscles are fabulous, you know. I'm sure anyone would kill to give these boys a rub." He flexed his bicep with a grin.

"Aside from the fact that that's the most disturbing thing I've ever heard you say," Newt cut in. "I'd rather not stand here and discuss Minho's bloody muscles all day. My leg's killing me."

Emis felt her chest pang with sympathy. "You should sit down." She said.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Yeah." He said, "Let's find somewhere."

Her first impression had been right; the room was a spacious storage cupboard. There were metal shelves stacked up against the walls, boxes and crates shoved haphazardly into corners. There were pillars in intervals connecting the floor to the ceiling, made out of concrete and cement and with little peeling signs plastered onto them with letters and numbers that made no sense to Emis. A few sandbags were strewn together against the opposite side of the room; Thomas suggested they pile them all together to create a small cushioned area on the floor just a few feet away from the table, the pillars surrounding them creating a small━slightly too cosy━alcove. Minho opted out, and decided to lie flat on a table pushed up against the back wall, using a roll of foam as a pillow.

The air smelled like metal and paint and very faintly of antiseptic as Emis relaxed against Newt. He had one arm slung over her shoulders, his head tilted back against the rise of the concrete pillar behind him. His eyes were closed, but from the slightly erratic pulse of his heartbeat, she could tell that he wasn't sleeping. She could tell that something was bothering him. She watched the movement in his throat as he swallowed, and then he shifted.

"Stop staring at me. It's very distracting." He whispered, without opening his eyes. His voice was low enough for the others not to hear, this time. Emis blushed, but didn't say anything. She rocked her head onto his shoulder and let her eyes close as well.

A hot, feverish flush had broken out underneath her skin. No matter how much she was trying to push it down, and how much the water had helped, the sharp, twisting pain inside her stomach was coming back. She didn't know how much longer it was going to last━whether it would stop at all. Whether it would kill her.

The thought made her jump, a little, a flood of cold shock subsiding the hot flush for a brief moment. Newt shifted, his eyes finally opening. "You alright?" He whispered, his voice heavy and groggy. "How's the sickness?"

"It's gone." She felt a flare of guilt unfold inside her chest as the lie left her. "I feel fine."

He turned to face her, properly now, his head tilted lazily towards her. He leaned forwards gently, and Emis felt the air leave her as he brought his hand up to skim across her bottom lip, which was cracked and dry. "Liar." He said, with the ghost of a smile.

"I don't know who these guys are," Frypan broke out, suddenly, pausing to swallow a mouthful from the bowl of rice he'd salvaged. "But, man. They can cook."

Teresa, who had been sat opposite Thomas with their legs tangled together awkwardly, sighed. "But, who are they really, though?" She asked, her voice only slightly doubtful. "I mean, we don't know anything about them."

"Well," Newt said; he had pulled away from Emis and was blinking slowly as if being woken up. "We know they're no friend of WICKED's."

"That's good enough for me." Minho said, from the table. He sat up on his elbows, his face a look of satisfied content. "You guys think too much. We're free. Enjoy it."

Emis saw Teresa turn to throw Thomas an unreadable look, before suddenly, there came a trill beeping noise, the sound of metal hinges groaning, and a flood of cold fluorescent light spilled in from the doorway as the door opened.

They got to their feet hastily; Thomas moved into a small jog to cross the room faster, the others following behind him, and for a short moment nothing happened. The doorway was empty, except for the man who had opened the door, and he was silent. He wasn't looking at them; he was looking at whoever was stepping through the doorway as he rounded the corner.

There was a brief pause as the light from the outside hallway washed him out into nothing but a silhouette, before he took another step forwards, and the silhouette came away from him, and Emis was struck with a shock so hard she felt all the air leave her, and she gave a gasping breath as if she'd been punched in the gut.

It was Janson.

     ⁰⁰ ❛ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 . . .☄︎ ⋆࿐໋ ˖

no one:
          frypan: noT ThE RicE!!!!
i honestly can't wait to get into this. the next chapter will be much more exciting, hopefully. also i included the food fight scene that wes cut from the movie bc i just want my glader bbies to have fun for once ffs. i'm sorry that this was super long but i hope that you enjoyed it! C2 will be up asap! (also this book is already halfway to 1K reads & i cannot believe it wowow)

love, 𝒓𝒊𝒓𝒊. *♡・.