Chapter Four
"cassette"

❣︎

"No way," Gally says after hearing Thomas's explanation.

"Yes way!" He throws his hands in the air.

Apparently, the bottle stranded here. It carried the note with it.

Tommy. Aris.

Thomas is somewhat bouncing around. "No one else has called me that before."

"And what does Aris have to do with this?"

"That... I don't know. We should ask if he knows. The handwriting's definitely Newt's, though."

It's neat but slightly rushed. Hurried nature. The letters are small, as if he doesn't want to take up too much space. Sharp edges: he was stressed. It's smudged. As if he was writing with charcoal.

Charcoal. Burned wood.

The fire of the Last City.

I snatch the note from the table. Thomas startles, a defensive reflex, but I ignore it.

The paper is crumbled. It's yellowish and thin. That doesn't tell me a lot.

"You don't know for sure," Gally states. "This could be a trap from WCKD—"

Thomas reveals another note from his pocket—a letter. "You see this?" He spreads it on the table. "That's Newt's."

Dear Thomas, is the first line. The same paper. Same handwriting, but even more messy.

Not because he was stressed, though. The corners are still sharp, it's just that some lines are too long. His hands were having... spasms, it seems. But he wasn't stressed.

"Go get Aris, then," Gally tells Thomas.

"You do it," he snaps back.

"Why would I do it? It's your note."

"Yeah, exactly. I need to stay with it."

"You can take it with you."

"No. It deserves special care, not the insides of my pocket."

Gally runs two hands through his hair, sighing. "This is why I hated you."

"Matter of the fact, I still despise you."

"I started it, so don't act like you're cool."

"Dude, I literally ate you up every time," Thomas shoots back. "You got nothing on me."

I take Thomas's note, a pen from Gally, and ask, 'What does Aris look like? I'll get him.'

Thomas's mouth falls open. Gally looks at him, biting his tongue. My heart drops. Shouldn't have written on that note.

'Sorry,' I write below it, my eyes widening. 'Sorry again. Shit.'

"It's fine," Gally assures fast.

Thomas looks like I just shot him.

"Eh, Aris kind of looks like he just got out of bed. Quite thin and—oh, there he is." Gally points at someone in the distance. It's the same boy from the pharmacy.

Nodding, I stand up. My skirt flares around me. It's flowy and nearly hits my knees. I like it, but it's rather inconvenient. My shirt is black, long-sleeved.

I wave once I'm in front of him, motion for him to come with me, and point at Thomas and Gally.

Confused but understanding the hurry, he follows.

"Aris!" Thomas sighs out. "You need to see this. Don't mind the blue pen, just focus on the black letters. It says—"

"He can read, Thomas," Gally points out dryly.

The boy named Aris narrows his eyes at the note before looking back up. "Where's that from?"

"It stranded. Was in this bottle." He motions at the green bottle. It looks like a beer bottle. Where did they get that?

I take a closer look at it. It's partly covered in algae, covering cracks. I remember the many drunk WCKD employees. They hated themselves so much for hurting us teens that they'd drown themselves in alcohol after work. It may be from the Last City as well, though that idea might be too far-fetched.

"Who could that be? Why would Newt write your name? Do you think someone else is with him?"

"If anyone, I hope Rachel," Aris murmurs.

My eyes take him all in for a second. Lovers? Friends? Family? His expression is sad, maybe even guilty. Is it his fault she's not with us? No, because he wouldn't openly say her name like that. He thinks it's his fault. Did he leave her behind? Or is he so selfless that he automatically blames himself, even when he didn't do anything?

"Well, maybe," Thomas hums, rubbing his chin. "We don't know what happened to those people. You might be right. Perhaps they're alive. They were far away from the Last City."

"Yeah, so how would she be able to contact Newt?" Gally wonders. "I swear this is just a trap from WCKD."

"WCKD's gone," Thomas insists.

"No. Their headquarters in the Last City are gone. But they must've had more sanctuaries like the one in the Scorch."

"I doubt that. The one in the Scorch was just meant to trick us. Why would they have other sanctuaries?"

"I don't know, maybe because they're a worldwide company?" Gally spreads his arms. "We shouldn't trust this."

"I do trust it, and I'm going to sail back to Denver and find them."

"Brenda and Jorge are there right now. I'm sure they won't just walk past Newt if they see him."

"I'm going," Thomas repeats. "Teresa's equivalent to Aris, right? Maybe it's her, and not Rachel. Hell, it could be anyone."

"Like Janson," Gally says.

"Janson's dead."

"So is Newt, and so is Teresa, Thomas!"

Thomas's jaw clenches. I softly nudge Gally in the side, shaking my head. This will go wrong if they keep going.

"Look," Gally restarts. He puts two hands down on the table, his voice calm. "Let's just wait until we get another 'hint'."

"But what if he's in danger? What if—"

"And so what? He's already dead and you're not going to risk your life to save him with such uncertainty. So wait until Brenda and Jorge are back and keep your mouth shut about this."

Thomas presses his lips together, forming a thin, white line, but nods.

"Oh, by the way, Aris," Gally looks at the boy, "this is Adelaide."

"Nice to meet you," Aris says with a soft smile.

I nod at him before looking at Gally, raising an eyebrow in the hope he understands.

"Oh, right. Adelaide's vocal cords are damaged, so she doesn't speak. Just so you know."

"Ohh." Aris nods heavily. "Okay. I'm so sorry about the interaction at the pharmacy, then. I didn't know."

My smile tells him it's okay. I slide off the bench, wave, and vanish to my hammock.

❣︎

Whoosh.

I shoot straight up, nearly rolling onto the ground because of the sudden movement.

My head snaps from side to side. I squint my eyes in an attempt to see through the darkness of the night, but I can barely register the various shapes  of the Safe Haven. Gally's soft breaths explain he's asleep, just like everyone else around me.

But what was that sound? I tiptoe out of bed, a cool breeze hitting my skin. I shiver lightly, but continue walking until I have a better view.

The sea splashes up against rocks as always. At night, it's rather scary, but it has nothing to do with the sound. Apart from a few lanterns, the huts are deadly dark.

My bare feet meet the sand, its surface warm. I take a single step, and it's no longer warm.

It's wet and slimy, a disgusting sound as it comes in contact with my foot. I pull back as fast as I can.

It sticks to my foot. Even as I lift it again, a whole string of slime remains, connecting me with the sand. Is it seaweed?

I wipe it off with my hand and rub it between my fingers before holding it to my nose. I can't place the smell–it's not seaweed, though it's greenish with a few dark lines here and there. It rather looks like snot, but no human would be capable of producing such a mass.

Whoosh. I spin around again, eyebrows furrowed. It's still too dark to properly scan my surroundings. I would've noticed any movement, though. I've looked below me, left, right, behind, in front, and nothing has moved.

Except above–I look up. The sky is dark, stars hiding behind clouds. The moon has vanished behind a mountain in the center of the island, a few miles away from me.

My eyes narrow. Movement, finally.

It's large, too large to be a regular bird. A Shade? The tiniest choked wince escapes me as I step back. My heart begins pounding so hard that it hurts against my ribs. Ice. Screeches. Wings.

No, no, no. It can't be. It's not.

I force myself to calm down, taking a few deep breaths. The way it flies is slightly unstable. It blends into the darkness. A wandering albatross? No, it wouldn't fly like that. It looks like it's heavy. Like it's not meant to be in the sky.

After blinking a few times, it disappears behind the clouds. Or does it? Maybe it was never even there.

I often have nightmares about the Shades. This might be another one, but it's strange. Different from other dreams.

❣︎

I keep my mouth shut about what I say for the following weeks. Gally hangs out with me, but I don't join the rest of the Gladers during meals. After writing on Newt's note, and seeing how Thomas reacted to that, I decided to stay away from him for a while. Minho isn't looking forward to seeing me, either. So I just sit with Gally or the lonely table. For now.

I spend most of my days in the Med Hut. More huts are slowly appearing on the island. Half of our 'population' already sleeps in one–families and elderly, at least. Kids below the age of fifteen sleep and spend their days inside the Orphanage. The rest has a hammock for now.

Food has gotten better. They planted seeds and went deeper into the island's woods. People like Jorge and Brenda–the ones Gally mentioned–sail back to America and try to scavenge.

Today, at the lonely table, there are less people than usual. About five people, of which most are boys. One of them put a dirty video cassette down on the table, right next to our food. It's full of sand and weed has grown into the holes.

When we're done eating, he forgets the cassette and everyone else ignores it as they also walk away, leaving me to sit alone.

I do take the cassette.