Chapter 42

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As planned, they took off at dawn. They followed Jorge down the rocky ledge and back onto the sand. Emma hadn't missed all the sand. They ventured away from the wreckage of the facility. There was still smoke from fires that had yet to be put out.

Emma couldn't help but search for Thomas. She knew he wouldn't be there. He was too smart to return, but she still looked. There didn't appear to be any WICKED soldiers either. That was a good sign.

Jorge led them through the mountains, which really felt like large hills. He said these weren't the mountains they were looking for. Emma wasn't sure how to feel about that. After that, it went silent. She was, once again, left to her own thoughts.

Left to think about all that had happened. It had only been a few days since she had left the Glade, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Emma felt like an entirely different person, but mentally, she was still stuck in that room—the room where Gally and Chuck would remain forever.

She wished that it was a dream, but it wasn't. It was reality. The reality is that Gally died.

He died, and there was nothing Emma could do to change that. They never talked about their feelings. She wished that they had. Maybe it would be easier to let him go if she knew what they were. Now all she had were what-ifs and torturous memories. Memories that she knew would never leave her.

Selfishly, she wished she could forget. Wished that WICKED would wipe her memories again and she could start over. Had she felt like this before? Emma couldn't help but wonder if she had been hurt like this before.

For the first time, she's grateful she can't remember that. Heartbreak. Greif. Sadness. They were human emotions that Emma hated feeling.

She noticed all the sympathetic glances and guilty looks the boys were casting her. Emma hated it. She hated their pity. It made her feel even worse. It would be easier if they pretended it never happened. At least that way, she wouldn't think about it all the time.

Finally, she slowed her walk and joined Teresa at the back of the group. They had only known each other for a week, but that didn't matter. Emma felt tied to her because they were both girls. Logically, she knew that didn't make sense. Their gender didn't matter, but Emma had been alone in the Glade for so long, singled out because she was the only girl. Teresa made her feel like less of an outsider.

Teresa was also the only person not looking at her sadly. In fact, the girl had hardly looked at anyone since losing Thomas. She had been acting strangely before that as well, but given the situation, Emma could understand. There was nothing easy about any of this.

"I swear, if Frypan looks at me one more time with his big, brown cow eyes full of remorse, I'm gonna lose it." Teresa hummed, eyes on the ground as they walked. Emma glanced at her, raising a curious eyebrow. "Teresa?" She ducked her head down to look at her better. "You okay?"

Teresa blinked a few times. Finally, she looked at her. "Yeah. I'm fine." It felt like a lie.

Emma bit the inside of her cheek, unsure how to approach the situation. "We'll get Thomas back."

"I know," Teresa said. "I'm not worried about that. I mean, I am, but I know Thomas." Emma remained silent. "It's just-I'm not sure we're doing the right thing."

"I know what you mean." Emma stepped over a log. "Nothing feels right. Every choice feels like the wrong one." Nothing made sense anymore. "But we have to do what we have to do to survive. That's all that matters."

"What about the others?" Teresa kept talking. "We left people behind. What about the people who get the flare? What happens to them?"

Emma thought of Winston. They couldn't save him. There was nothing they could do for him. "We can't save everyone." She couldn't save Jeff when he sacrificed himself for Minho. Not Jack when he vanished in the mall. Not Chuck when Gally shot him. "Sometimes, we have to lose. We can't always win."

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