The truck came to a stop again. Barely enough time had passed for Newt’s skin to dry, much less his hair or clothes. Both doors of the vehicle opened and closed, and something told Newt their journey was over, that they might never be in another car or truck for the rest of whatever remained of their lives.

“Are you going to kill us?” Keisha asked the empty air above them in a shaky voice, the first time Newt had seen her show genuine fear. “Please don’t hurt my children.”

Children. Was it her fleeing mind, imagining that Newt was her daughter, come back from the dead? Or did awareness still cling to her strongly enough to hope for more leniency granted a mother and her kids? Before anyone bothered to answer, the three of them sat up, letting go of their temporary cuddle of warmth. Two soldiers stood at the tailgate of the truck, the gate still closed. They were helmeted, their faces nothing but shiny black glass, as soulless as robots. That now-familiar, muffled, slightly mechanized voice came from one of them, a low growl that sounded almost like static.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” it said. “Especially after killing my friend. So if you complain I’ll beat the living hell out of you. I swear it on all your dead relatives.”

“Wow,” Keisha said. “Harsh. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” Newt was amazed that she had the guts to make even the slightest of jokes.

The soldier who’d spoken gripped the upper edge of the tailgate with gloved fists, the leather creaking as he squeezed. “Say another word. Just one more word. You think this would be the first time we’ve accidentally broken an order? Sure would be a shame for that kid if his mama died because she wasn’t... cooperative.”

To Newt’s immeasurable relief, Keisha didn’t respond. She looked at Dante, finding all the strength she needed in his eyes, in his life.

“Just get out of the truck,” the other soldier piped in. “Now. You’re gonna spend the rest of your life in this hellhole so you might as well make yourselves at home.” She pulled on a latch and the tailgate flopped down with a heavy metallic crack.

Newt had a sudden and almost overwhelming rush of panic, the uncertainty of his life now, all at once, taking on meaning again. He moved to deflect it, scooted himself forward until he could jump down from the truck bed onto the ground, a mishmash of dirt and weeds. A quick look around showed a lot of trees and dozens of tiny cabins and tents, as haphazard as the early days of the Glade. Newt felt a longing for his friends and old days past, as hard as those old days were.