CHAPTER 39 - Footsteps

                                    

                                          
I clumsily swing my legs back into my hammock, throwing on a loose, cable-knitted grey sweater and tying my hair back into a low messy bun, small strands of hair framing the sides of my face. The taste of rum is still sweet on my lips; this card game night wasn't nearly as messy as last time. I still feel the light tension in the air from the disappointment of what had happened earlier. I look up, to the sky window in the roof, where I can see beams of moonlight trying to break their way through the dense layer of clouds. I sigh, rolling over to my side to try to get to sleep, when I hear the sound of footsteps getting closer to the door. 
I look up, to see Newt and Frypan muttering amongst themselves. They plaster on hasty smiles when they see me lying in my hammock, to which I raise an eyebrow suspiciously. 
"What?" I ask, sitting up and folding my arms.
"What do you mean, what?" Fry laughs nervously. Newt rolls his eyes at his friend's pathetic attempt of lying. 
"You know what," I reply bluntly, narrowing my eyes. "What are you two up to?"
"We're just trying to figure out a way to convince Vince to teach me how to drive his van," Newt lies smoothly, "I mean, Fry knows how. Vince was even going to let Tommy learn to drive - I mean, I'm sure he'd be, uh... great, but..."
I giggle. "Thomas should not be trusted with that responsibility." 
Newt lets out a laugh, carefully sitting down in the campbed beside my hammock, while Fry takes the mattress in the corner and, as soon as his head falls flat on the mattress, starts snoring softly. I roll my eyes fondly at him as I sink back into my hammock.
I look back up through the window in the roof. Some clouds have parted, revealing the bright shine of the moon. It is in the shape of a crescent, just a sliver of white light amongst the dark sheet of black sky. I calmly watch as the clouds swiftly pass over the window, the moon vanishing for a few seconds before reappearing as the clouds part once more. The sky is the darkest black I could imagine, and for a brief second I am reminded of the unforgiving eyes of a Crank. I sigh miserably. Why is it that my mind always has to take me back to my darkest memories? 
I feel a pair of eyes searing into my neck as I sit up, turning to my side where Newt watches me curiously. He does a double-take when I catch him staring, smirking to him with my eyebrows raised. 
"Yes?" I ask sassily, with a slight laugh. "Is there anything I can help you with?" 
"N-No, I just... you just, you looked so peaceful, it made me feel calmer," he replies honestly, scratching the back of his head as he slurs his words ever so slightly. 
"Oh," I smile, a light blush climbing up my cheeks. I giggle. "You're drunk."
Newt holds his hands up in mock surrender. "Not like last time." 
"That was fun," I laugh softly. He nods with his lips tugging further into a slight smile. His eyes fall to the floor as he bites his lip, deep in thought. I frown for a moment, before clambering out of my hammock to sit beside him on his campbed. 
"What is it?" I ask quietly. "Is it about Minho?"
He nods slightly, not responding. I sigh softly,  resting my head on his shoulder.
"We will find him. And besides, Minho's strong; he won't give up," I console, listening to his deep, rhythmic breathing. "You know that."
"I know," he mutters simply. 
"Besides," I continue, "we won't stop trying to save him. Even if Vince has given up, it doesn't mean we have to. We will get him out of WICKED. Trust me."