black veil ◦ scorch trials || thomas

08.

EIGHT ; COLLATERAL DAMAGE

     She wondered what had happened to him. He was grunting and groaning, and could barely climb the rubble. His stomach was bandaged and he needed aid to get to the other side of the piled up debris. She wondered what had happened to him that made him borderline immobile.

     Winston was in the back. With pain etched on his facial features, and whimpers falling from his cracked lips, he took step by step with great difficulty. Thomas spoke encouraging words to make sure everyone kept the pace he had set. But Winston could barely crawl by the looks of it, and Evan didn't feel much better.

     The burning ache in her wrist had made itself noticeable again, and she was itching to dump her limb in ice-cold water just to lessen the pain. But she was afraid. She was afraid that once she would remove the bandage, she would see something she wouldn't like. Something incurable, and marking her whatever short time she had left.

     Teeth sinking into her chapped bottom lip, Evan stopped, let Frypan pass with a timid smile, and looked at a struggling Winston. Ideas of how to help him were not coming to her, and she remained standing atop the debris with a frown on her face as she asked herself when she suddenly began to care so much about someone who she had met less than 24 hours ago.

     Evanna looked at the obvious reasons, the ones where she didn't have to seek further for a deeper explanation. Her sudden protectiveness over Winston could have been anything, after all; sympathy, pity, feeling as though she had to repay the group in some way for not leaving her behind. The girl chose to pick any of those choices, her head throbbing just at the thought of over-analyzing it all.

     "Everyone good?"

     Thomas' voice echoed around them, and as Evan glanced over her shoulder, she saw that he was already ahead of them by a few feet. She heard a breathless response from beneath her, and she was quick to realize who it was. Taking a deep breath, Evanna turned to Winston and held out her uninjured hand.

     He eyed it cautiously, gaze flickering up to meet hers as if to make sure she wasn't going to try anything on him. The boy swallowed thickly as he let his eyes wander to her outstretched hand again, eyebrows drawing together.

     Evan's lips quirked up. No words of persuasion were needed as Winston placed his calloused hand in hers and allowed her to pull him up just by a little, and help him climb the rubble. She faced him with her back, her gaze focused on every shifting thing under her that would cause both her and Winston to fall.

     Her steps were placed carefully, and every now and then she would glance behind her to make sure Winston did the exact same as her. The last thing Evanna needed right now was slide all the way down again with collateral damage clinging onto her hand like a life line.

     She guessed it only made sense. If Winston did let go, at the point where the hill out of debris was steepest, he would tumble down and land on a metal pipe. It was the last thing any of them needed right now, so she tightened her grip and quickened her pace, hoping he would be able to keep up.

     It was only when they crossed the rubble and broken down buildings that Evan wanted to turn around. Before her, as far as the eye could see, she saw nothing but desert. Tumbleweed rolled aimlessly in the wind, a scorching sun accompanying the slight, barely noticeable, breeze.

     Glancing over her shoulder, Evan swore she could see all of Winton's hope for this to be any less painful than climbing the ruins drain from his face. She could see his eyes dull, his grip on her hand lessening and the helpless breath leave his mouth. But she refused to let him give in to whatever he felt, and squeezed his hand softly, gaining his attention.