Admit Defeat (TMR fic 2)

Chapter 56

The arrow smashes into Newt's shoulder, and he visibly winces. I'm pulsing with adrenaline. He just took an arrow for me. The absolute, shuck idiot.

I stare at him, openmouthed.

"What?" he says, glaring at me with irritation as his face twists with the pain of the wound. "You thought I'd let you die now? That was really stupid, by the way."

"Yeah, well, same goes to you," I snap back. Some semblance of sanity is starting to return to me now that I can tell Newt isn't dying. The wound isn't deep, and isn't bleeding much, either. He pulls the arrow out and presses his hand to the new spurt of blood from his shoulder, sulking.

"Come on, Tom."

I wheel at Teresa's voice, wanting to fight her off. But the girl who had shot Newt has nocked another arrow, and she raises her eyebrow in a challenge.

My shoulders sink. I can't fight back unarmed. They've made that clear. My heart is racing, trying to find a way out. I need to fight... but I can't let them hurt the others. Not Newt, not Minho, not my friends.

"Follow us," Teresa says to the rest of us, her voice ringing and cruel, "and he dies."

She slams the butt of her spear into his gut, and Thomas doubles over. He doesn't try to defend himself, and it's killing me to see the level of complacency in his eyes. He's okay with this. He still trusts her.

I want to scream at him that it's stupid, that he's going to die. But I can't let them hurt Newt.

Tears start to stream down my face. This is the nightmare I always feared. In the end of it all, what choices will I make? Thomas or Newt? If I was in the balance, would I sacrifice myself or my friends?

They throw a large, thick sack over Thomas's whole body, and Teresa whacks him a few more times for good measure while staring us down. If we misbehave, he pays the price. Thomas drops to the sand, only his feet visible.

Several of the girls start dragging him away.

We don't move until they're well out of sight, until the bows trained on us slowly fade into the night they emerged from.

We failed. He's gone, and we don't have time to find him. Not if we want to be cured from the disease WICKED gave us.

I hang my head and follow Minho as he silently leads us all up the mountain, a march of defeat.