tough world ✔️ | death cure minho

21.2

MINHO STOPPED ON his track and Frankie almost ran into him.

"We need to talk to you," Minho said, plead laced in his tone, as he moved a couple of feet closer to Newt. He had to step over a skinny woman lying on her side, and Frankie followed after.

"Don't come any closer," Newt answered. His voice was soft, but it was full of menace. "Those thugs brought me here for a reason."

Frankie expected Minho to retort something like he usually did, but he didn't say anything. Instead, Thomas spoke up, "Why do you think we're here, Newt? I'm sorry you had to stay back and got caught. I'm sorry they brought you here. But we can break you out—it doesn't look like anyone gives a klunk who comes or goes."

Newt slowly twisted around to face them. Frankie's stomach dropped when he saw that the boy had a Launcher clutched in his hands. He had fired it at her once, she was sure he wouldn't mind doing it again one more time.

And he looked ragged, like he'd been running and fighting and rolling down cliffs for three days straight.

"Whoa, there," Minho said, taking a half a step back, "Slim it nice and calm. There's no need to point a shuck Launcher at my face while we talk. Where'd you get that thing, anyway?"

"I stole it," Newt answered. "Took it from a guard who made me... unhappy."

His hands were shaking slightly and his finger hovered over the trigger of the weapon.

Frankie stepped sideway, revealing herself before Newt's eyes.

He probably knew that she was there, considering the loud sound she made every time her right foot touched the floor. But when they met eyes, he immediately looked away.

"I'm... not well," Newt said, "Honestly, I appreciate you buggin' shanks coming for me. I mean it. But this is where it bloody ends. This is when you turn around and walk back out that door and head for your Berg and fly away. Do you understand me?"

"No, Newt, I don't understand," Minho said, the frustration in his voice escalating. "We risked our necks to come to this place and you're our friend and we're taking you home. You wanna whine and cry while you go crazy, that's fine. But you're gonna do it with us, not with these shuck Cranks."

Newt suddenly jumped to his feet, so quickly that his friends almost stumbled backward. He lofted the Launcher and pointed it at Minho. "I am a Crank, Minho! I am a Crank! Why can't you get that through your bloody head? If you had the Flare and knew what you were about to go through, would you want your friends to stand around and watch? Huh? Would you want that?"

He was shouting by the time he finished, and was shaking more with each passing moment.

Newt's glare shifted to Frankie.

"And you, Frank," the boy said, lowering his voice. "You've got a lot of nerve coming here and asking me to leave with you. A lot of bloody nerve."

He looked at Thomas. "The sight of you makes me sick."

Frankie couldn't bring herself to say anything.

Newt suddenly stilled and his face softened. He lowered the weapon and looked at the floor.

"Newt, I don't get it. Why are you saying all this?" Thomas persisted quietly, "Come over here for a second, we have something important to tell you."

The word 'cure' was right at the tip of his tongue.

Newt looked up again, and there was none of the bitterness that had been there just seconds earlier. "I'm sorry, guys. I'm sorry. But I need you to listen to me. I'm getting worse by the hour and I don't have many sane ones left. Please leave."

When Thomas opened his mouth to argue, Newt held up his hands. "No! No more talking from you. Just... please. Please leave. I'm begging you. I'm begging you to do this one thing for me. There's a group who's going to leave for Denver today. I'm leaving with them.

"I don't expect you to understand, but I can't be with you guys anymore. It's gonna be hard enough for me now, and it'll make it worse if I know you have to witness it. Or worst of all, if I hurt you. So let's say our bloody goodbyes and then you can promise to remember me from the good old days."

"Newt," Frankie finally brought herself to say, "I can't do that."

"Shuck it!" Newt yelled. "Do you have any clue how hard it is to be calm right now? I said my piece and I'm done. Now get out of here! Do you understand me? Get out of here!"

"We can—" Thomas looked around cautiously. He stepped forward with his arms raised, "Look. WICKED contacted me. The cure, it—"

"To hell with the bloody cure! That's another lie, and even if it wasn't, I don't want it! I don't want to see any of your shuck faces, ever again!"

"You can't be serious," Minho's gaze snapped to Newt's, and he looked like his heart had been shattered. His shoulder slumped and his eyes fell to the floor. "How did the world get so shucked?"

Someone poked Thomas's shoulder and he spun to see that several Cranks had gathered behind them.

"I believe our new friend asked you people to leave him alone," one of them said.

"This is none of your business," Thomas replied. "He was our friend way before he came here."

The Crank man slicked his hand over his oily hair. "That boy's a Crank now, and so are we. That makes him our business. Now leave him... alone."

Minho spoke before Thomas could respond, "Hey, psycho, maybe your ears are clogged with the Flare. This is between us and Newt. You leave."

The man scowled, then brought up a hand to show a long shard of glass gripped in his fist. Blood dripped from where he held it.

"I was hoping you would resist," he snarled. "I've been bored."

His arm flashed out, the glass slicing toward Thomas's face. Thomas ducked toward the floor and reached up with his hands to deflect the blow. But before the weapon hit him, Brenda stepped in and swatted the guy's hand away, which sent the glass shard flying. Then Minho was on him, tackling the Crank to the ground. They landed on the woman he'd stepped over earlier to get to Newt, and she screamed bloody murder, started flailing and kicking.

Another Crank stepped in with a barbaric roar, and Frankie stepped in. She jabbed the Crank's chest with her elbow and threw him over her shoulders.

Soon, they were entangled in a wrestling match.

"Stop it!" Newt yelled. "Stop it—"

His sudden stop caused Frankie to look up in concern, and she saw Reggie hugging Newt.

They moved, stumbled a little bit, without a word exchanged or said. Then the boys shifted to reveal Reggie holding a needle, injecting the cure through Newt's thigh.