There were voices, and footsteps, light and cautious. Then there was a soft beep, and an image flickered awake. I knew what it is, for I had been there when it was made. I stared ahead, my back against the underside of the table. Soon the recording was over with a loud noise, and those gathered before it shouted in surprise, then began to head away.
I wrote the name on my ankle.
Things happened behind me that I was unaware of as my eyes flicked across my skin, and my thoughts ran emptily. I clung to the white hem of my dress, my palms sweaty.
I jumped when I heard a gun shot, and I scrambled to press against the table. Were they shooting at me? Why would they want to kill me? As I wondered these things, I heard a soft thud, and realised they weren’t indeed shooting at me. One of them screamed, shouting someone’s name. I peered over the table, and saw a group of teens standing, all boys save for one girl with black hair. A small boy was lying on the ground, with an older, dark haired boy was over him, crying. Several feet from there was another teen, with light hair, lying on his side with a spear in his chest. I gasped, and one of the teens standing turned his head, his eyes meeting mine. He was smaller than the rest, and wore a sword strapped behind his shoulder. His hair was golden, combed over, and his eyes were brown. I stood, setting my hands on the edge of the table. He glanced at my arms, and tapped a teen beside him to get his attention. This one turned, his skin tan, hair black, and oval eyes dark. He saw my arms, and glanced at the blond boy suspiciously.
Then the doors burst open, and a group of men ran in, dressed all in black. I, shocked, stumbled back and fell to the ground. The men took the teens from the room, and I gasped again, throat dry. I parted my lips to call out to them, but before I could say anything, one hurried to me and led me out.
All around was sand surrounding a helicopter awaiting us. The black-clad men loaded the teens (including me) into it, and closed the door. No one said anything, but the tan boy was staring at me. I tucked my hair behind my ear, ducking my head. I glanced out the window, and the only sound to be heard was the boys’ jagged breathing, and the helicopter’s propeller whirring above us.
Then the blond boy with the sword whispered something to the dark eyed boy, who shook his head. I could tell they were talking about me, so I looked down, tugging at my thick blonde hair and picking at the hem of my dress. I raised my eyes again and found the tan skinned teen was still staring at me. Something about him made my heart skip. I didn’t believe in love at first sight, but now I was beginning to rethink that. I was just sixteen, but there was something entrancing about him. I didn’t dare blink, and I saw he didn’t either. He looked down at my legs and arms, his expression held back, like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t.
“Where are we going?” the blond boy suddenly asked, his voice thick with an English accent. One of the men sitting amongst us, holding a gun, raised the visor of his mask.
“A safe place,” he replied.
“How long till we get there?”
“By nightfall,” he said. The sun was just setting, so we all knew it would be soon. There was silence after that, and I received several suspicious glances, but the tan skinned boy’s gaze stayed on me.
Finally, he spoke. “Why is my name written on you?”
Minho stared, and the girl glanced down at her arms and legs. It was true-- his name was written in black ink all across her skin. The others, too, looked, satisfied that someone had asked.
“I--” she gulped. “I’m not sure. When I woke up… in the maze, it was the first name in my mind. It came before mine, and when I talked to the others, they laughed about it.” She brushed the hair behind her ears.
“Another maze?” Minho asked, lowering his voice. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped, and looked down. Minho glanced at Newt, who gave a curious shrug. So he looked out the window, watching the hues of the sky change as the sun sank. Soon it was dark.
Thomas was sleeping when they landed, and one of the black-clad men turned his gaze outside.
“Alright, kids,” he said, his voice cautious. He paused before saying anything else, something on the horizon catching his gaze. “We’ve got to go, quick! Get out, get out!” He motioned to the opening doors, and the teens began to leap from the helicopter, their eyes dancing across the vast desert plains. Minho moved to exit, but hesitated, glancing back at Thomas’ snoozing form. He scrambled back to his friend, grabbing him by the shoulder and shaking him roughly.
“Thomas!” he shouted over the whirling propeller noise. “Thomas, wake up! We got to go! Come on!” Thomas woke, and Minho jumped from the helicopter, following the other Gladers. Just over the sandy peaks, distorted silhouettes appeared. The men shouted to the kids so they would run, and run they did, hurrying to get in the building.
Once inside, the doors closed, and they were all locked inside. Minho glanced behind the group, motioning for the girl to catch up.
“Who is she?” Newt asked quietly, and Minho shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, sighing.
“Do you know why she was there?”
“No,” Minho gripped the collar of his vest, his eyes flicking back to the girl following them. She’d walked quicker, but stayed a good distance behind. Minho was, just as the other Gladers, suspicious, but couldn’t help worrying. They were lead to a dark room and left there. When the doors closed them in, a light flickered on, and the room was illuminated, revealing a long table piled high with food. The Gladers gasped, and broke out into a mad scramble for food.
Frypan called claim on the rice.
Terra strayed to a corner.
Minho snatched a full pitcher of water and drank from it.
Teresa threw a handful of food from her plate, thus beginning a food fight. The room filled with laughter as the teens flung whatever they weren’t eating at one another.
This lasted several minutes until most of the food was eaten or scattered across the floor. Now the teens rested, each situated in different areas of the room. Frypan still held a plate of rice in his hands. Newt leaned against a thick pole with Teresa beside him. Minho lay on the table, staring up at the ceiling. For once in a long time they could rest without worry.
Then the door opened, and they all stood, forming a group again. A man with greying hair came to them, a sort of smug smile on his face.
“If you’ll come with me,” he said, and went on to explain things. Minho, half-listening, looked back at the girl, her arms crossed. She glanced up at him, and he turned away quickly, his pace falling quickly in sync with the others.
Once his attention is fixed back on the man before them, Minho caught the end of his explanation. “First, let’s do something about that smell.” He smiled, and showed them to the bathrooms. There, they showered, ecstatic to be able to do so.
Minho exhaled, feeling the steaming water run down his back. He looked up, running his hands through his hair to soak it, closing his eyes as the water streamed down. He lathered the soap across his shoulders, watching it turn to a light shade of brown because of the dirt that had clung to his skin. He sighed, eagerly covering himself with the soap.
By and by, the other boy’s showers turned off, and they dressed, and left the bathroom. But Minho was too comfortable there, and stayed for a while longer. He rinsed the soap from his body, and ran his hands through his hair again, closing his eyes, letting the hot water pour over his face.
Finally, he turned off the shower, lingering for a moment in the steam. Then, he dried himself, and dressed, stepping into a pair of khakis, and tugging a burgundy shirt over his head. He pulled on a pair of boots, and tossed his towel away, walking from the bathroom.
He left there and was brought by an agent to the medical wing of the building, where he was injected with a strange blue serum. He didn’t bother to ask what it was, but instead remained silent and let the agent do what needed to be done. Then he stood and looked around, inspecting his surroundings. A line of treadmills caught his eye and he walked to them. Turning one on, he stepped onto the black belt as the machine started up. He watched the other Gladers from there as his pace quickened, and saw that they, too, were receiving the same injections as he had.
Terra received her injection silently, only wincing when the needle pricked her skin. Then she left there, and disappeared past the grey door. Minho sighed, watching the people passing, and after a while he left, too.
He met the other Gladers in a large room, where he was given a plate full of food. He sat down at a table with the others, and ate, grateful to have something other than Frypan’s food. No one said much, aside from scattered compliments about their showers, or new clothes, or how nice the others smell. Minho remained quiet, though, gazing curiously around the room. In the corner, at a table with several other teens, sat the blonde girl they had brought with them. Though those in her group spoke amongst themselves, she said nothing and kept her head down. He sighed, and looked at his food again.
What’s going on? a feminine voice sounded in the back of his mind, and he raised his head, his eyes flicking across the room. He turned to Newt.
“Say something?” he asked, but Newt shook his head. Minho huffed, confused, and returned to prodding his food with a fork.
Minho, the voice returned. Minho looked up again, and found his eyes locked with that of the blonde girl’s. She stared at him, and though he tried to look away, he couldn’t.
Who are you? he thought, feeling some sort of link between his mind and hers.
Terra, she replied, and Minho felt very strange, very suddenly. It was like seeing someone from a dream, one the dreamer had had more than once. The feeling was something like a flashback, though more physical than visual. His eyes widened, and he stood.
“Minho,” Newt said in a worried tone. Minho looked down, and quickly stepped away from the table, paying no attention to the contrary exclamations from the other Gladers. He looked to the other side of the room, and saw Terra standing, too. Minho, inhaling sharply, crossed his arms and crossed the room. Some of the girls at Terra’s table were giggling, watching as the two met, halfway between the tables. Minho rubbed the back of his neck, offering a half-smile. All the ink had been washed from Terra’s skin, and she was clad in a clean white dress, layered in lace. Her feet were bare, and her hair was tied back. She smiled.
Neither of them spoke, but instead stared intently into the other’s eyes.
Hi, Terra rubbed her arm, a pleading look in her eyes. Minho didn’t know what to say. He stuttered in his own thoughts. Before he could reply, though, the man who had explained the situation to them when they had first arrived, Jansen, entered the eating room. He held in his hands a dark clipboard, which he opened.
“If I can have all of your attention,” he said, hushing the room. “This is very simple. If I call your name, all you have to do is stand, and come to one of these men behind me--” he motioned to two black-clad men standing against the wall, hands clasped before them. “-- and they will take you to your new home. Unfortunately, only a few of you can leave today. Don’t worry, though, you will get a chance eventually.” He smiled, and then began to list of names, then finished, and left.
“The rest of you are dismissed to your rooms,” an agent by the door told them all. The girls at Terra’s table stood, and, calling their remaining friend, filed out to head to their rooms. Minho walked back to his table, glancing out the large windows as the girls passed by. Terra raised her hand in a slight wave, and he gave a short nod. He then followed his group from the cafeteria, and down the hallway.
“Eh?” Newt grunted, casually hitting Minho’s chest with the back of his hand. “What was that all about?” Minho made a face.
“What?” he shrugged. Before he received an answer, or even allowed Newt time to give one, he said, “I’m going to go get a few hours of running in. I’ll see you shuckfaces later.” With a flash of a grin, he jogged away, leaving the others in silence.
He made his way back down the silver hallways, glancing in all the windows he passed. Finally he came to the exercise room, and walked to a treadmill, sighing as he stepped onto it. He loved running, and mapping, and memorising; but he was glad to be out of the maze.
Turning the treadmill on, he chose his preferred settings, and the belt began to move, first very slowly, then faster. Minho’s pace picked up, and he jogged along, listening to the quiet of the room.
He closed his eyes, recalling the times in the maze. Three years he was there, and in all that mapping, he never found a way out.
He ran harder.
It was when Thomas came that things began to change. Thomas who killed the griever. Thomas who, while Minho never could, found a way out. And that was all Minho ever wanted.
I locked the bathroom door and took down my hair. The floor was cold under my bare feet. I washed my hands in the sink and reluctantly raised my gaze to meet that of my reflection in the mirror-- something I loathed to do. Back in the maze, I was a nurse. Now I wished I had been a runner. Perhaps it would have slimmed my shape a bit. I shook my head, frowning as my mirror-image did the same. Sighing, I hung the towel back where I’d taken it from and left the bathroom.
The girls in my group paid no attention as I walked to the door and quickly stepped out, closing it quietly once I was exited. I knew where I wanted to go, and so I hurried down the large hallway. After a while of twisting and turning, I came to a closed door, which I opened silently, and slipped inside.
I made my way down the aisle of exercise instruments, things I’d never truly cared for. Near the end of the line, Minho was running on a treadmill, eyes closed. I smiled, watching as he sprinted with ease, steady footed.
“I figured you’d be here,” I said. Taken back, Minho started, and tripped over his own foot. He collapsed, and the treadmill’s belt pushed him to the floor. He grunted and looked up. I couldn’t help but give a smile, seeing him sprawled out like that. He stood, and turned the machine off.
“Hey,” he said, rubbing a small burn on his arm.
“Sorry I scared you,” I gave an apologetic look, glancing down. Minho shrugged.
“You didn’t.” he replied. “I was just not paying attention.” I laughed.
“If that’s what you want to call it,” I said, smiling. He grinned and crossed his arms. I grew serious and looked into his eyes. “Minho,” I said quietly. Did you know my name when you woke up in the maze?
Minho’s expression fell, and he shook his head. I didn’t.
Oh, I looked down, stepping back.
But that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel anything when you gave it to me, his voice in the back of my head spoke. Terra, I felt something. It was like I knew you from a dream-- he made a face, and I looked up.
A dream? I asked, and he nodded. I shook my head, though. “I’m sorry, Minho,” I said, and walked away from him, kicking myself internally. What was I even thinking? Of course we didn’t actually know each other. How could we? We were from different mazes. It didn’t make sense, and I ran back to my room.
***
During the night I stayed awake, keeping my eyes closed to try and sleep. I counted the moments that passed by, my thoughts distracted. I couldn’t sleep, no matter which way I lay, or how many times I tossed and turned. After a while, I just stared at the ceiling, breathing slowly.
A quiet tap on the door startled me, and I sat up, looking around. No one stirred, so I climbed down from my bunk, and soundlessly walked to the door, opening it slightly.
“Minho,” I breathed, seeing his shadowed face staring at me.
“I need to talk to you,” he said, taking my wrist and pulling me from the room. I swallowed hard as he led me down the hallway, our bare feet making hardly any sound on the floor. I slipped my wrist from his grasp, and held his hand, bringing up my pace to match his. He glanced back at me, and hurried me down the hall, cutting sharply to the right, bringing me into a dark room. He positioned me in the blackness and closed the door. I heard him stand before me, and he took both of my hands to show me he was there.
“What’s going on?” I asked, but he remained silent for a moment.
“The other maze,” he said, then was quiet again, as if waiting for an explanation. I inhaled, gathering my thoughts.
“I was in the maze for three years,” I began. “They let me be a nurse; somehow I understood that stuff. Everything started changing when this guy was brought up by the box. We got out of the maze, and one of the girls died. We were taken in a helicopter, but I fell out, and wound up in that place where you were.” I rubbed my arm, remembering. Minho sighed and, grabbing my shoulder, kissed me. It was brief; I didn’t have time to return it-- he was gone.
I stumbled back, stopping when I was against the wall. I shook my head. What just happened?
I pressed my fingers to my lips, and slipped out of the room. The hall was silent as I headed back to my room. I closed the door once I was in, and climbed up to the top of one of the bunks. Sighing, I laid down, head spinning.
I closed my eyes and slept.
In the morning the other girls were up before I was, and when I woke they were gone. I groaned, rubbing my hand over my face. My hair was a disaster, so I leapt from the bunk and showered.
Once clean, I left the room, making my way down to the cafeteria. There, I took the tray of food offered me, and sat down at the table with the rest of the girls. Glancing across the court I saw Minho, staring intently down at his food. My heart pounded in my throat and colour rose to my cheeks. I brushed the loose strands of hair from my face and began to eat.
A little while later Jansen returned and took a few more girls away. As they were lead from there, one of the boys from Minho’s group, Thomas, stood. He was staring out the window as the dark haired girl from their maze walked by, following an agent. He moved to the door to go to her, but the agent there held up his hand to keep Thomas back.
“I just want to talk to her,” Thomas said, and the guard laughed slightly.
“Get your a** back in that chair,” he replied, growing seriously. Thomas tried to go past him again, but he couldn’t. The agent gave him a stern look, and he nodded, backing up. He was almost at his table when he turned and ran back at the door. The man there caught him, though, pushing him back.
“Sit down,” he ordered, but Thomas moved to run at him again. Before he could, though, the boys from his group where behind him, and held him back.
“Come on, Tommy,” Newt said, setting his hand on Thomas’ shoulder. But Thomas shook his head and, breaking from their grips, flung himself at the agent again.
The agents threw them into their room, and left, slamming the door behind them. It locked with a click, and the boys were alone.
“What the h***?” Minho demanded, shoving Thomas roughly. “What the h***?” Thomas raised his hand, in which he held the security guard’s card-- the one he used to scan the door locks. Minho, just for a moment, looked pleased.
“We have to get out of here,” Thomas replied, his voice cracking. Minho’s face twisted with emotion.
“Are you crazy?” he half-shouted, stepping threateningly forward. “We’re safe here. You want to throw all of that away and make us all risk our lives with the cranks out there? Do you know how stupid that sounds?”
“Minho’s right,” Newt said. “This is a safe place. If we leave now, we’ll never have a chance to be taken to that new home that Jansen told us about.”
“But don’t you see,” Thomas fidgeted on his feet. “He lied about that. There is no new home.” Minho and Newt cast nervous glances at each other, then faced Thomas again.
“Then where did he take those girls?” Newt asked, and Minho folded his arms across his chest. “There are only two left.”
“There was this room,” he said.
“When did you see this?” Minho asked. “How do you even know about all of this?”
“Last night,” Thomas replied. “Aris told me about it.”
“Aris?” Minho hissed, his eyes squinting. “The kid with all the girls? Have you seen how he acts?”
“Then he showed me.” Thomas ignored the last question. “There was a room where all of those girls had been taken, and they were unconscious. Like they were being drained.” Minho inhaled sharply.
“Drained of what?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Thomas shrugged. “But Aris and I planned to leave today. There’s a group he told me about called the right arm. They save kids like us. I want all of you to come with us. It’s not safe here.”
“What about Teresa?” Newt asked. “They’ve got someone watching her.”
“We’ll get her on the way,” Thomas said, hardly satisfying Newt.
He glanced down as the vent cover was knocked out from under his bed. A scrawny boy with light hair poked his head out to look at them.
“Ready?” he asked. Thomas nodded, and, as he was about to follow Aris, Newt took a hold of his arm, causing him to stop.
“What about the other girls?” Newt asked. “There’s only two of them left, and--” he paused, glancing at Minho. “There may have grown some… connections… between some of us and some of them. We can’t just leave them here.”
“Is this true, Minho?” Thomas asked, his gaze passing from one Glader to the other. Minho nodded, his expression shifting. Thomas nodded. “Just so long as you don’t slow us down.” He turned to leave, stopping when he noticed Aris standing at another vent.
“You’ll have to go ahead,” he said to Thomas. “I’ve got something to do.”
“But you have to come with us,” Thomas argued. Aris tilted his head slightly.
“You want to get out, don’t you?” he asked, and Thomas nodded. “I’ll meet up with you.”
“I’ll go with him,” Winston said, and Thomas, again, nodded. Winston ducked into the passageway after Aris, and they disappeared.
Thomas, then, dropped to the ground and slid under the bed, climbing into the vent. Minho, glancing at Newt for a moment, followed after, closely tailed by the remaining two.
They made their way through the ventilation, grunting at the tight space. With all of them there the air grew thicker, and there was barely room between each boy as they quickened to leave. Finally, Thomas kicked down a cover, which clattered to the ground, several yards beneath them. One by one they dropped from the hole, until all were out. Thomas lead the way, sprinting down the silver hallway. Almost halfway to the door, another corridor broke off from the one which they were in, and Minho took a sharp turn, followed closely by Newt. They knew where the girls were staying, and hoped it wouldn’t take them too long.
After several moments of running, a steel door blocked their path, and Minho pounded his fist against it. For a moment nothing happened. Then Terra opened the door, colour instantly rising to her cheeks when she saw who stood before her. Minho quickly pulled her out, and Newt went in to explain everything to the other girl.
“What’s going on?” Terra asked.
“We’re leaving here,” Minho replied, glancing quickly over his shoulder. “It’s not safe. The people here work with WICKED, and if we don’t leave now we never will.”
“But what about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” he said, lowering his tone. Terra bowed her head, sadness evident in her eyes. Minho touched her hand. “It’s okay. We just have to get out of here.” Do you trust me?
She raised her eyes to meet his. Yes. Minho nodded.
“Then let’s go.”
Taking her hand, Minho tapped once on the door to let Newt know that they were ready, then hurried Terra back down the hallway. The two of them ran hand-in-hand, and Minho pulled her hard right to ease into the connecting hallway. Newt followed quickly after, and the four of them raced to catch up with the others.
“Do you know how to get out of here?” Newt asked, and Minho nodded.
“Follow me,” he said, and Newt obeyed, gently leading the girl along with him. The four of them made their way down there, never slowing, even when they heard the voices of their friends. Soon they reached the sounds, and saw that Thomas still hadn’t gotten Teresa. They were running, though a good deal slower than Minho’s group.
“Minho get us out of here,” Thomas begged, and Minho took the lead, still clutching Terra’s hand. They were almost to the end of that hallway when they heard another’s footsteps. They stopped as a black-clad agent came into their sight. He held a gun in his hands, and he looked up when he saw them.
The teens moved to run the other way, but Minho lingered, letting go of Terra’s hand. She was reluctant to follow, and gradually stopped, waiting to see what he would do.
Minho, emotion set firmly on his face, took a few steps back, then ran at the agent. He lifted his foot and kicked him, slamming him into the wall. The agent was unconscious, and Minho dusted his hands off. His heart pounded.
“Let’s go,” he said to the others, glancing at them over his shoulder. They nodded, and caught up with him. Thomas, before continuing down that hallway, took up the agent’s gun, and joined up with the group, as they sprinted forward. For a long time they ran, until they were stopped by a woman dressed in white. Confusion wrote itself across her face, and she furrowed her brow.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. Thomas, skipping slightly, gripped the gun and aimed it at her. She started, and raised her hands. But he took hold of her arm and spun her to face the direction in which they were going.
“Take us to Teresa,” he said, and she hurried to obey, scuttling down the hallway before them. Minho, then, took up the tail of the party, making sure that everyone kept together. He reached forward and brushed his fingers against the side of Terra’s hands. She glanced back at him, offering a smile, which he returned.
The white-clad woman lead them to a room, where she stopped, and Thomas tossed the gun to Minho, who aimed it at the other doctors in the room.
“Get on the ground!” he shouted at them, but they only stood there, hands raised. “On the ground!” He stepped threateningly forward, and then they obeyed him, lowering themselves to the ground.
“Give me your hands,” Newt commanded, snatching a long white cloth from a shelf. As the doctors did as told, he began to tie their hands with the cloth.
Thomas looked around and saw behind a half-opened curtain a bed, and on it lay Teresa, sleeping. As Fry kept a steady eye on the door, Thomas woke Teresa.
“What’s going on?” she asked. Outside, a group of men lead by Jansen were approaching the room. Minho glanced out the window and watched them, counting the space between them and the teens. He glanced at Thomas, hoping he’d hurry up.
“We have to get out of here,” Thomas told Teresa, helping her from the bed.
“Thomas,” Frypan said. “They’re coming.” He moved to the other side of the room.
“They’re working with WICKED,” Thomas explained. “We need to leave now.”
“Thomas, Thomas,” Jansen’s voice broke the intense silence, and we all held our breath, looking about the room for an escape. The door wouldn’t do, because if we went through there, Jansen would take us all back. Other than that, there were no doors-- only a window.
“Move, Fry!” Newt exclaimed, apparently coming up with an idea. He grabbed a small metal table covered with medical supplies and flipped it over onto its side. Then he shoved it between the closed door and shelf. There, it kept the door from opening. Then Thomas, too, seemed to have an idea, and he grabbed a chair and swung it, slamming it against the glass. The result-- nothing.
“Newt,” he cried. “Help, help!”
Then Newt took a chair, and together they hit the window with both, causing the glass to shatter and fly everywhere. Teresa laid a cloth over the sharp remnants, and the boys jumped through the frame. Thomas helped her over, and Newt helped Clare, the other girl from my group, through. Minho took my trembling hands in his strong ones, and I jumped, landing, staggering, falling against him. I gulped, and he held me for a moment, then let me go; we started running again.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Jansen and his men were already in the room, and were climbing through the window.
“Faster,” I squeaked, and we picked up speed. We came to a dead end-- a closed door. Thomas slid the key through the scan, but it emitted a loud beep, and a red light flashed. Minho swore. Jansen’s men were getting closer.
Jansen began to try to talk Thomas out of leaving, saying that this was a safe place. No matter what he said, though, Thomas would always counter it, and finally fired the gun at our pursuers several times, once hitting one of the men, and sending him to the ground in a writhing fit. His gun fired several more times.
Just then, the door opened, and Winston and Aris were on the other side.
“Go!” Thomas shouted, and we ran threw the doorway-- all except for Thomas-- and waited on the other side. Thomas fired his weapon again, shouting at Aris to close the door. After quite a bit of arguing between Thomas and Minho, the command was obeyed, and the door began to descend. At that point Thomas’ gun ran out of ammunition, and he threw it down in frustration.
“Come on, Thomas!” the boys shouted, and he began to run. I held my breath-- and he slid, just barely making it under the door, which fully closed once he was through. Aris smashed the scanner next to the door, so that the key card wouldn’t work on the opposite side. Thomas stood, and glancing through the window at Jansen, stuck out his finger. I looked away, to the huge doors that opened up to the scorch.
“Come on,” Minho said, taking my hand. The ten of us ran towards them, and out into the scorch. The sky was dark, and a strong breeze stirred the sand, raising small eddies of the crystals. We kept running, occasionally glancing behind us to make sure we weren’t being followed still. Shouts came from inside, and we quickened our paces.
Just as we leapt over a dune to hide, agents sped out of the building on four-wheelers, their lights shining and scanning the hills.
“This way,” Thomas whispered, hurrying down the side of the dune. We followed him, shielding our eyes against the whirling sand. Several metres from us was an old looking building, the glass windows shattered in places.
Teresa entered first, though the others warned her against doing so. Minho followed, pulling me after.
“What happened here?” he wondered, almost to himself. We went in anyway, rather to be there than in the hands of WICKED. Minho’s hand slipped around my waist as he aided me in the descent. There were several large rooms, but no lighting.
“Someone lived here,” Thomas said, kneeling to examine a pile of clothes and other such signs of life.
“Maybe they can help us,” I supposed, and he shrugged.
“We have to find them first, though.”
I sighed. “True.” I shivered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. It was cold, and I was tired. I hadn’t slept very much last night, and the escape was taking a toll.
“Gather what you need,” Thomas said. “Then we’ll get going. We’ll split up-- two of us will look for whoever lived here, and the others will gather supplies. Minho, you’ll come with me, and the others will stay here.”
“Right,” Minho said, and took up a dark jacket, which he slid over his shoulders. They stayed a while, though, to gather some things. I sighed, and knelt to gather some things. As I did, I couldn’t help but overhear Minho speaking quietly to Thomas.
“Thomas,” he said, shining his flashlight over a pile of things. “Those kids that got left behind-- I don’t want to end up like that.” Thomas remained silent for a moment. Minho stopped and turned to him. “Thomas,” he said, drawing his friend’s attention.
“What?”
“You hearing me?” Minho asked, and Thomas nodded.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I heard.” Minho looked hardly satisfied, and his eyes still held worry. I sighed again, and continued to rummage through a pile of clothes. A pair of ripped leggings lay in there, and I took them, pulling them up under my dress. It would be hot, but rather that than risking awful sun burns. I also snatched up a scarf, which I wrapped around my neck. I pulled a jacket like Minho’s over my shoulders, glancing around. Teresa was changing behind a wall, and Newt and Frypan were looking at… something. Winston was rummaging through the things, as was Aris. I brushed the bottoms of my feet off, and pulled over them a pair of leather boots, which I laced up tightly and tucked the leggings in. Then I shoved a few more layers into a backpack, along with some canteens filled with cool water.
I sat back and sighed, wrapping my arms around my knees. I laced my fingers and scanned the surroundings. I couldn’t see much because the only light came from the moon outside. Shadows lingered in corners, in places where no light touched.
In a moment feet were before me and a hand stuck out toward me. I accepted it, and was pulled up. When I raised my eyes I found myself staring right into Minho’s. I smiled slightly.
“Come with us?” he asked. I nodded, and followed after him as he led me to Thomas.
“Let’s go,” Thomas said, and the three of us set off. He held a flashlight to lead the way, and we carefully walked along, coming to a short stop at the top of two broken escalator. Thomas glanced at Minho, who gave a confused look, and began to descend. I followed quickly after, keeping Minho’s hand clutched tightly in mine. We kept a sharp eye out for any sign of movement. None came as we went farther, and we arrived at a dead end. A chain-link fence blocked our way, lined with toy stuffed animals. One the locked gate was a sign that, when Thomas shone the flashlight on it, read DANGER: HIGH VOLTAGE. I glanced at Minho, who had wandered from our trio, and was now kneeling before a box with several switches on it’s face.
“This looks promising,” he said, and flicked one of the switches on.
“Minho, wait,” Thomas warned. Barely a second later, the room began to light up, and a steady hum filled the air. Minho stood and smiled, quite proud of himself. Then he glanced behind Thomas, his expression growing serious. A shadow shifted behind the fence, and a small child threw herself against it. I screamed, Minho jumped, and Thomas almost dropped his flashlight. The girl’s face was deformed, and black slime oozed from her mouth. Her skin was pale and hair a mess.
“Her eyes!” Minho pointed, and both Thomas and I looked, seeing that, in fact, she had no eyes. In their stead were only two black oozing sockets. She screeched at us, and in my fright, I screamed again. Minho pulled me close to him, comforting both me and himself.
Then, all around us, more misshapen figures emerged from the lingering shadows, slow at first. That is, until they saw us. Once they acknowledged our presence, they began to run at us. In such a sloppy way it frightened me terribly. The three of us instantly turned and ran in the opposite direction, back to where we came. The creatures screeched and made all sorts of cacophonies, encouraging us to run faster.
“Run!” Thomas shouted. “Run!” Everyone’s attention was brought, and though we were scattered we ran, each at the fastest pace we could muster. Minho was instantly beside me, and he took the backpack from me, slinging it over his shoulder. He grasped my hand and held it tight. I clung to his just as securely, and we took the lead, Minho being the fastest of us all.
“Up, up!” Thomas cried, drawing our gazes to a pair of still escalators. I glanced over my shoulder at the pursuers, wondering what in the world they could possibly be. Minho hurried me along, and we skipped quickly up the black stairs, gripping the frozen rail to aid us.
Before we’d gotten too far up, Jack, a young boy from Thomas’ maze, was knocked off his feet by one of the horrific creatures. He called for help, and several descended to come to his aid, but they were too late, and he fell away with the monsters.
I bit my lip at the sight, tears stinging my eyes. I hadn’t known Jack, but still the sight of such an event brought me to this state. Minho tugged on my hands and I followed him up the escalator.
Once upstairs, we ran along, towards a short hallway. One of the disfigured creatures scrambled up over the side of the loggia we sprinted on, and tripped Newt. It jumped up and onto him, and both Minho and Thomas had to wrestle with it to get it off of him and throw it back over the edge. Thomas helped Newt up, and we continued to run. Near the end of the hallway another broke off, this one narrow and tight, and there we turned to the left. The wall to our left was lined with doors, and Thomas began to throw himself against them, trying to open them.
Winston snatched the pistol. “I’ll hold them off,” he spoke loudly over the commotion, and aimed the gun, firing it at our pursuers. Thomas came to the last door, which budged when he hit it. Twice again he flung himself against it, but a bolt on the other side held it closed.
Frypan came to Thomas’ aid and slammed himself against the door, forcing it to open. We filed through the narrow frame, and Winston took up the tail, continuing to shoot the creatures. Just after he had gotten through, however, the monsters were too close for comfort, and they leapt forward, they straggly fingers clutching Winston-- pulling him to the ground. He cried out, and Frypan grabbed hold of his arms, desperately trying to pull him away from them. Thomas and Minho flung themselves against the door to try to keep the monsters out.
Winston cried out in pain as the creatures’ fingernails tore his skin under his shirt. Finally, Fry pulled him free, and helped him up, shouting at the others to get out of there. Minho and Thomas still pushed against the door.
“Go, Minho,” Thomas said. “I’m right behind you!” Then Minho leapt from the door and ran. Thomas followed, picking up his speed as the creatures broke through in less than a moment. An opening on the far end of the room was our destination, and we raced towards it, never glancing back.
We were almost there, I could see it. I could feel the air grow thicker. The floor toward the door was a straight path, with naught blocking our way save for a few random items.
It was then I felt a presence behind me-- close behind me, and I tripped.
Minho stopped suddenly at the sound of screaming and looked back, his eyes widening at the sight. One of the terrible creatures had knocked Terra down and was on top of her. She was struggling to keep it away, but it seemed to have the upper hand. Her screams frightened Minho, so he, with a quick glance around, took up a baseball bat and ran to her. With a wild swing of the bat, he sent the monster flying. He then knelt and lifted Terra, who clung to him like a frightened child. And without wasting any time, he turned and ran toward the exit, after the others.
We left that place, hurrying out of the building into the dark. Stumbling down a pile or rubble, we hid in a small niche, turning off our flashlights. The creatures searched above us but never travelled too deep into the darkness.
***
In the morning Terra woke, hardly remembering falling asleep. She was wrapped in Minho’s arms, and he still slept, a peaceful look on his face. Sunlight shone brightly and the morning was growing hot. That didn’t bother her, though, and she leaned her head on Minho’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Then Thomas woke, and shooed a black bird from his backpack. He sat up, gazing at their surroundings.
“Get up, everyone,” he said, shaking Newt, who had been asleep beside him. “Get up.” Now everyone woke, and began to stand. Minho sighed when his eyes opened, and he squinted against the sun’s brilliance, breathing deeply. He wrapped his arms tighter around Terra, then stood, extending his hand to help her up. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet. He looked around.
Once his eyes adjusted to the light, Minho saw that they were standing on the border of what used to have been a town. Now it was unkempt buildings with shattered windows, tilted and leaning on one another for a little bit of support.
Winston groaned when he tried to sit up, and he laid back, closing his eyes for a moment.
“You okay?” Fry asked, offering his hand to Winston, who nodded, and took Fry’s hand, pulling himself up.
“Let’s get going,” Thomas sighed, and the others nodded. For a while they walked slowly, thankful that their pursuers had fallen away.
“What is this place?” Frypan asked, looking around.
“I don’t know,” Newt replied, just as baffled as the rest of them. “But I don’t think anyone’s been here in a long time.” So they continued, breathing heavily in the thick air. Then Thomas stopped, and held out his hand, motioning for everyone to do the same.
“Listen,” he said, and they fell silent. Far above them, a roaring sound filled the air, growing louder and louder. “Hide!” Thomas shouted, and the group ducked under a broken building piece, just as two aircrafts rumbled over the town. The teens were not spotted, and each breathed a sigh of relief.
Soon they were out of the town, and were steadily climbing up a tall dune. Their feet stirred up the sand, and it blew away in the wind until it settled in different places. Sweat ran down the teens’ sunburnt faces, soaking into their clothes. Minho felt to faint soon, but it was still only noon. He glanced behind him at Terra, staggering, struggling to make her way up.
He slowed to assist her, but his attention was drawn away when Winston collapsed with a slight groan. The others were instantly around him, and Teresa called for a travois, and began to wrap a bandage around Winston’s stomach. Minho, mind fogged by the heat, stumbled away to gather supplies. He rummaged through the tail end of the town and retrieved two small poles, and several pieces of cloth. Also some string he brought, and carried all back to Teresa. He and Newt tied everything together, and made sure it was secure enough to carry Winston. Then Minho gingerly lifted Winston once Teresa had finished bandaging his torn stomach, and laid him on the travois. Newt and Frypan offered to carry him first, and so they did, dragging the travois behind them.
They didn’t stop for a long while, until all of them were too tired to continue. There was a tipped over piece of building just one hundred metres from where they were, and they headed towards it, seeing that it provided shade. It took them several minutes to reach the shelter, and when they did, they all sat down and passed the canteen around. The water was warm, and only barely quenched their thirst. They wiped the sweat from their brows and shook the sand from their scarves. Thomas, after resting a while, left the shade and walked to the top of a small dune to calculate the distance from their to the mountains. Teresa followed a moment after, and the others stayed under the shelter.
Minho sighed, watching Winston. The fear of those twisted beings clung to his heart, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that more would come. He turned his head and gave a small smile to Terra, who leaned against him, her hands still shaking.
Maybe it would all be okay.
The moment of peace was soon interrupted, though, when Winston leapt from the travois he sat on, and ran at Frypan, who was keeping the gun. There was sort of a skirmish between the two, and several of the teens shouted. Minho stood, and took Winston by the shoulders, throwing him to the ground. But Winston got up, and advanced threateningly toward Minho.
Thomas and Teresa ran back to the others, just as Winston collapsed to the ground again. Everyone stood around him, watching tensely to see what he would do. But he only lay there, tears beginning to fill his eyes. Newt took the gun from Frypan.
“It’s spreading,” he whined, closing his fingers around the hem of his shirt to lift it. “Inside of me.” The wound from the disfigured creatures had grown, now revealing parts of his entrails. His skin was purpling, losing its natural tan colour.
“Please,” he looked back up at Newt. “I’m not going to make it. Don’t let me turn into one of those things.” Newt sighed, and knelt beside him, setting the gun in his hands, holding it to his chest. Then he stood. They all watched quietly, with saddened eyes. “Goodbye,” Winston said, his voice shaking. Newt nodded and, with Clare, walked away. Minho took Terra’s hand, slinging the backpack over his shoulder, and went after, followed by Aris and Frypan. Thomas knelt beside Winston and rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder. Winston watched as he, too, left with Teresa.
The teens walked from there, heads hung. Before they’d even gone a mile, the sound of a single gun shot filled the air, and they stopped, listening to it fade away. Minho heaved a sigh, feeling Terra tighten her grip on his hand.
It grew dark and we stopped to rest. Aris made a fire, and we sat around it, leaning against fallen boulders. No one said much, for our hearts were too heavy. Minho’s brow was furrowed as he slid the blade of his knife against a piece of wood, making the end of which a sharp point. I watched him, wondering what he was thinking.
“I never thought I’d say this,” Frypan spoke quietly, tears making tracks down his dark cheeks. “But I miss the Glade.” Thomas stood suddenly, and left the camp, soon followed by Newt. They spoke quietly with one another, and I moved to sit next to Minho.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
“Nothing,” he replied, keeping his eyes fixed on his work. I sighed, leaning back against a stone.
In the morning we began our journey again, all eyes set on the mountains. Ever they grew closer. Only a few hours after noon, the bottles of water were empty, and we were left with nothing but hope-- hope that our destination was closer than it appeared.
It grew dark several miles later, and we stopped for the night. I shivered as the air grew cold. The moon silhouetted a group of forming clouds, and I wished there wasn’t such a drastic difference in the night and day temperatures. Each trying to get comfortable as we laid down, we formed a tight group to keep each other warm. Leaning up against Minho I still trembled, crossing my arms tightly.
“Minho,” I whispered, and he stirred, quietly grunting in response. “I’m cold.”
“I know,” he breathed, turning over onto his side. I moved closer to him, and felt his arms slide around me. There. Now the cold lessened. I relaxed and closed my eyes. I could feel his hot breath against my neck, and I smiled slightly.
Then there was a slight tugging at the corner of my mind, and I could hear him thinking.
Winston, the name lingered for a moment. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have turned on the stupid electricity. If I hadn’t… He paused for a moment.
No, I said and turned to face him, snuggling against him. This isn’t your fault so stop saying it is. Those things were in there, and sooner or later they would have attacked at least one of us. I paused, blocking some of my thoughts from his. Winston died to save us. I set my hand on his chest. All of us.
Yeah, but I put us all in danger.
No one could have prevented what happened.
I paused, just for a moment.
“Guys,” Thomas’ hoarse voice broke the silence. He stood, and looked out over the desert plains. No one moved. “Guys,” he said again, rousing everyone. I shivered when Minho let go of me, and I was enveloped in the cold again. I stood after him, and Thomas pointed.
We all strained our eyes to see.
“There’s something there,” Thomas announced. He was right. In the far distance was what looked to be a city-- or, at least, the remnants of a city. Lights flickered there, showing signs of life.
“You think they’ll help us?” I asked, excited.
“If they’re not monsters?” Minho shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Let’s go,” Thomas said. He glanced up at the sky. “It’s about to get pretty nasty out here.” The rest of the group was up now, and, once we all gathered our things, we headed towards the lit town.
The clouds that formed above us rumbled threateningly, and sent flashes of lightning to touch the ground. We picked up our paces to avoid being hit, and now gained distance. We were much closer to the town.
Just before it lay several old pieces of metal buildings and appliances, and we dodged these, our sights on our destination.
Then, out of nowhere, a lightning bolt struck one of the metal pieces and ricocheted, lashing out at Minho. He was thrown away by the impulse, crying out quite loudly. Then he fell, rolled, and lay motionless on the ground.
“Minho!” I screamed, gaining everyone’s attention. I rushed to his side, and tugged at him, trying to pull him over my shoulders. But he was too heavy, and I had never been very strong. “Somebody help me!” I shouted, now crying. Thomas, Aris and Newt were instantly beside me, and the latter two took Minho from me. I stood and followed them towards the building, roughly scrubbing the tears from my sunburnt cheeks.
Finally we made it inside the building, and Frypan closed the doors, enveloping us in darkness.
“Set him down,” Thomas said.
“Mind his head,” Aris warned, and the two teens laid Minho down. I knelt beside him, quietly begging him not to be dead. I put my hand on his chest.
“He’s not breathing!” I cry, frantically stroking his hair with trembling hands. I sighed shakily, not bothering to care that my tears were creating a wet spot on his jacket. “Please wake up,” I whispered, my voice quivering. “Please.”
Then my heart skipped.
Minho groaned and inhaled, opening his eyes. I gasped and, even before I knew what I had done, kissed him. The others laughed, though whether comically or relieved I couldn’t tell-- or care less. Minho sat up, grunting slightly. His skin was charred and blistered from the lightning, and he winced when I touched the side of his face.
“What happened?” he asked, looking around.
“I think you got struck by lightning,” Thomas replied. I could have laughed at this, but I remained serious in my effort to make sure that Minho was alright.
“Oh,” he said with a sigh. I, along with Thomas’ assistance, helped Minho to stand.
Teresa shone her flashlight around, sensing another’s presence. I paid little attention to the feeling, and instead took Minho’s hand and held it, never wanting to let it go. Then Thomas took a step forward, and a pale hand snatched at his foot, causing him to jump back and shout in surprise. Lights above us flickered on, and we found ourselves standing in the entrance of a room filled with the disfigured creatures that had attacked Winston. Minho gulped, his expression changing to that of determination. I adjusted my grip on his hand, and his gaze moved from the monsters to me. I nodded slightly.
On the opposite end of the room was an open doorway, and in it was a silhouetted figure. I couldn’t tell whether it was a boy or girl, for it’s hair was cut short.
“I see you’ve met our guard dogs,” a girl’s voice interrupted the terrible screeches coming from the creatures aggregated before us. The girl walked on a thin path where the mutilated monsters could not reach her, and she glanced casually at their pale reaching hands, and continued until she stood before us. She scrutinised Thomas, grinning slightly. Teresa tensed.
“What do you want?” the girl asked, crossing her arms.
“We’re-- we’re trying to find shelter,” Thomas stuttered. “In the mountains.” The girl scoffed.
“Come with me, then,” she said, shrugging. “And don’t mind the Cranks.” Then she turned and walked back through the path. Thomas followed first, then Teresa, trailed Aris, Newt and Clare, then Frypan. Minho and I took up the rear.
The girl led us from that room, and into another. A large crowd was there, made up mostly of aged men, but a few women were fitted in, too. They rose from their sitting positions as we passed, and they gathered behind us, following closely and watching. I felt terribly awkward, and Minho tightened his grip on my hand.
“No one’s come out of the Scorch in a long time,” the girl explained. “You’ve just got them curious.” Thomas gave a short nod, and we continued to follow her. We were taken from there up a staircase, and the girl began to ascend, trailed by Thomas, Teresa, and Newt. Before Minho could follow, a tall, bald man with a beard stood in his way, his expression threatening. Minho raised his chin, raising himself to his full height. Way to go, Minho, I thought, knowing this kind of action would get him in trouble.
Then the girl spoke to the bald man. “Stand down, Barkley. Jorge saw them first.” The man stepped back and Minho passed him, his gaze remaining sharp. I followed after him, quite intimidated. The girl lead us into a small room, lined with disorganised things-- desks, boxes, suitcases. A man with dark skin and greying hair stood in the middle of it with a woman beside him. They looked up when we entered.
“Ah, Brenda,” he spoke to the girl, and she nodded. “Who are these?” He waved his hand at the Gladers. Brenda shrugged. “Hmm. We’ll just have to find out.” He took up a small device from one of the piles of stuff, and scanned the backs of our necks. Black ink marks appeared, and he stepped back.
“WICKED,” he said. “Tie them up. Let’s see what they know.”
“Minho, don’t struggle,” Terra warned, watching as he, too, was tied (with much difficulty) to the ceiling by his ankles and hung upside-down over a deep hole in the floors, even the ones several flights down. The dark-skinned man walked around them, inspecting his captives.
“So,” he said. “What do you all want?” Minho scoffed. Who did this shank think he was?
“Who’re you?” he asked, squinting as the blood rushed to his head.
“My name is Jorge,” the man replied. “Now answer my question before I get cranky.” Then he laughed. The teens passed quizzical glances to one another, wondering what there could possibly be here to make anyone laugh.
No one spoke.
And for a long moment there was silence.
“You people forget how to talk?” Jorge asked, crossing his arms. “Scared of us? Scared of us Cranks?” Minho saw, in the corner of his eye, Terra shivered at the word.
Finally, he answered, not even wincing at the pain that soared through his entire body. “You admit you’re a crank? That you’re freaking crazy?”
Jorge laughed again, and Minho rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw. “Don’t be so mean,” Jorge said. “Or I may lose my temper and kill you.” His jovial expression turned to a stern, warning one. Minho fell silent.
“How many of you are here?” Newt asked.
“How many? How many Cranks?” Jorge smiled again. “We’re all Cranks here, hermano.” Newt glared.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” he said in a very flat tone. Jorge crossed his arms, examining the Gladers.
“Brenda said you wanted shelter in the mountains,” he said. “Why? What’s in the mountains? Say no one talks. Well, then we’ll leave you here and maybe feed you to the Cranks once they get angry enough. Ah, imagine what joy that would bring me.”
“Is the blood rushing to my head,” Minho inhaled, tired of Jorge’s threats. “Or is this shank not making any sense?”
Jorge motioned to one of his men, and they untied Minho, throwing him to the ground at their master’s feet. Ouch, Minho’s blistered skin screamed at him to cry out, but he held it back, biting his lip hard till it bled. He pushed himself up.
“You didn’t just say that to me, did you?” Jorge’s expression blanked. “Please tell me you did not just speak to me like a dog. You have ten seconds to apologise.”
Minho smirked, glad to have irritated the Crank. There was no way he was going to apologise to him. Not truthfully. Maybe mockingly? Yes, that would do.
“One,” Jorge began counting. “Two. Three. Four.”
Minho considered the situation, pretending to ignore Jorge. He’d love to beat the guy up, if given the chance. He stood.
“Minho!” Terra’s voice broke through his thoughts. Don’t do this now, Terra, he thought, still smirking at Jorge, who’s expression grew more irritated by the second.
“Five. Six.”
“Do it,” Thomas said.
“Seven. Eight.”
Minho glanced at Thomas, whose gaze shifted from his friend to the ceiling above them. Movement flickered in the shadows. Minho’s heart skipped, his smirk fell.
“Nine.”
“I’m sorry.” Minho said irritably, trying to force some sincerity into his words. Much as he tried, his arrogance blocked all but a little from his grasp.
“I don’t think you meant that,” Jorge stated, and he kicked Minho, who cried out, eyes shut tight as pain shot up from his leg. He clenched his jaw again, trying to focus on something other than the hurt. His leg throbbed, and he could feel the busted skin begin to bleed.
“Say it with meaning, hermano,” Jorge demanded, bringing back his leg, threatening another kick.
Minho remained silent, struggling to swallow a scream that rose to his throat. He kept his lips set firmly in a straight line. Jorge, unsatisfied, kicked Minho again with doubled strength.
“Say it with meaning!” he put such emphasis on the last word his voice echoed around the place. Minho wailed, unable to contain it any more. He gripped his leg and fell forward, now kneeling before Jorge.
“I’m… sorry!” he exclaimed between gasps, the pitch of his voice high with pain. Jorge smiled and stepped back, satisfied with this mortification. But Minho wouldn’t accept such humiliation without a fight, so he swung out his arm, slamming it hard against Jorge’s shin. Though it inflicted sever pain to him, he was pleased with the yelp that came from the Crank as he jumped back and fell, his back hitting the floor with a thump.
Minho, shaking, jumped up and onto Jorge, screaming a jumble of insults and curses at him. Balling his fist he hit him-- hard as he possibly could-- over and over. Finally. The moment he’d been waiting for. His blistered arms begged him to stop but he wouldn’t. He beat Jorge till his own knuckles split.
Then one of the Crank’s men tackled him, dragging him from Jorge. Minho struggled, now throwing random curses out at anyone, paying no attention to the appalled looks on the other Gladers’ faces.
Jorge stood, wiping away the blood that leaked from his nose and mouth. His left cheek was swollen, and this satisfied Minho. The man who had split up the fight took him and began to tie him back up.
“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Jorge said, sighing. “What are you doing here if you are WICKED property?”
Thomas answered before anyone else could speak. “We’re trying to find the Right Arm.”
“The Right Arm?” Jorge folded his arms across his chest, an interested look in his eyes. “What do you know about them?”
“Not much,” Thomas replied.
“The truth,” Jorge demanded. “Or I give your friend there the punishment he deserves. What’ll it be, kid?” Minho winced at the thought of Jorge’s definition of punishment, and he hoped Thomas would answer. For Minho’s sake, at least.
“I know they live in the mountains,” Thomas said. “They help kids like us get to a safe haven.” Jorge scoffed.
“Well, if you find them, let me know,” he said. Then he left, and the Gladers were alone.
“Well done,” Teresa said sarcastically.
“Shut your shuckface up,” Minho snapped.
“Hey!” Thomas scolded.
“Hey, yourself,” he shot back. His entire body ached and the pain from his burns and the kicks from Jorge remained. He winced, and glanced at Terra, whose eyes were fixed on him.
You okay? she asked.
Not really.
She moved her arm and took his hand, running her thumb gently over his busted knuckles. It hurt, but in a good way. He smiled slightly.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Thomas said. The others agreed silently, and he pointed to a lever at the edge of the hole. “Teresa, you’re closest. If you can swing over there, that’ll lower us enough that we can climb out and untie ourselves.”
“Swing?” Teresa asked.
“Minho, give her a boost.”
Minho groaned, but obeyed, pushing her forward as hard as he could. He winced at the pain it caused his arms, but shoved her forward again when she swung back. She reached for the lever but missed, and came swiftly back. Minho, gathering all the strength he could muster in his state of hanging upside-down, pushed her, and she caught onto the rail in front of the lever. She reached up and took hold of the stick, pulling it down. The ropes dropped dramatically, and Teresa climbed up. She sat, only long enough to untie her ankles, then stood and began to help the others.
Finally, they were all up.
“Let’s get out of here,” Thomas said.
And we ran.
We hadn’t even gotten out of the room, though, when one of Jorge’s men, Barkley, stepped before us, taking out a radio.
“Sir,” he said into its speaker, grinning at us. “They’re here.”
“Right,” Jansen’s voice came over the static. “We’re coming in. Thank you.” Thomas reached out and grabbed the gun, aiming it upward. Barkley fired the weapon, then shoved Thomas back. He aimed it again, and Thomas raised his hands.
Then the sound of a gunshot rang through the building, and Thomas’ hands covered his stomach as the look of surprise crossed his face. I held my breath, waiting for him to collapse. But he didn’t.
Instead Barkley was the one to fall, revealing Brenda standing behind him, a smoking gun in her hand. She tilted her head. “Follow me.”
We ran after Brenda, and hurried up the staircase, leading to Jorge’s room. He looked up when the teens entered in there.
“The Right Arm,” he said, throwing some things in a bag. He tossed them the backpacks they had brought. “If you want to see them, we need to go now.”
“Come on,” Brenda pleaded. “We don’t have time for sentimentalities.” She motioned to him as he reached in his group of records. He selected one and took it from the shelf, setting it on the phonograph.
“I just want to play my favourite song,” Jorge said, and put the needle down. “Now let’s get out of here. Before this place gets blown sky high.” He hurried out, followed by Brenda, the woman who had been with him earlier, and the Gladers. He led us to yet another room, where a wire was hung as a zip-line, and travelled out the window. Jorge ushered us to this, giving each a belt to slide across with. He went first, of course, then the woman. Minho took up third, and I followed him, with Clare after me. Newt came next, with Aris after him, trailed by Frypan. Neither Thomas nor Brenda came, and so I assumed they had elsewhere to be.
We slid down the wire to another building, but were caught in the spotlight of Jansen’s helicopter. Before anyone could say anything, loud music began to play from the speakers in the buildings. Jorge nodded his head to the rhythm, and he hurried us from there.
The sun was beginning to rise.
***
We ran for a long time, and I lost track of the twists and turns we took, the staircases leading up and down. We left that building, and arrived in the centre of the town. I gripped Minho’s hand, wishing WICKED would just leave us all alone.
We came to a building, from which heavy music flowed, and Jorge walked in. Of course, we all followed him, not wanting to be left out in a world where Cranks could attack us at any moment.
The air was thick inside, and a tall girl with dark makeup offered Minho and me two cups of a verdant drink. I took one, hoping the stuff would clear my head, and Minho took the other. His voice was muffled when he spoke a word to me, but I nodded anyway, and drank the green liquid.
It was disgusting.
But I gulped it down anyway. Anything to get that blasted buzzing out of my ears. I waited a moment, hoping my thoughts would clear. But they didn’t. Instead, they grew thicker and more jumbled together. I felt light-headed and dizzy. For a moment I simply stood there, until a sharp pain shot up from my right ankle, and I gasped, collapsing against Minho. My whole leg throbbed. He caught me, and I lingered for a time, quite enjoying the feel of his arms around me. I turned to face him, head spinning. It seemed everyone else disappeared, and only the two of us were there, standing in a moonlit room. My heartbeat was slow, and at times I wondered if it was even there. Minho licked his lips, staring down at me. Then he set his hands on my waist, and we stepped in sync. I didn’t understand what was happening, until I realised--
We were dancing.
I moved my hands up his chest and around to the back of his neck, slipping my fingers into his hair. I paid no attention to the pain that still circled my ankle. Instead, I simply stared into Minho’s eyes. I could hear his thoughts, but they, too, like mine, were jumbled together in such a mess I couldn’t make out a single one of them. When I regained my focus on my partner, my heart stopped. He leaned slowly forward and kissed me.
I kissed him back, and we froze there, surrounded by only the moon’s light.
“Hey!”
A voice broke us apart, but Minho’s eyes still tore through my heart.
“Hey!”
A disfigured, pale hand was set on Minho’s shoulder, it’s fingers twisted and wrinkled. The voice turned to distorted screams, and my eyes widened as a warped figure appeared, breaking the darkness with it’s white skin.
I felt the pain in my leg.
“Terra!” I could vaguely hear Minho’s voice, but he was falling backwards, away from me. I parted my lips, but only a muffled scream escaped them.
My ankle throbbed.
“Terra!”
Then I woke. I was laying on a soft bed, in a room filled with light streaming from a nearby window. I inspected my surroundings, finding Minho sitting in a chair beside where I lay, eyes closed. The others were scattered across the room. Thomas and Brenda were still not amongst them. Neither was Jorge, for that matter. I sat up.
Minho stirred, and opened his eyes. “Terra!” he exclaimed, straightening himself. My ankle still throbbed, and also my head. I pressed two fingers against my temple, groaning slightly. What’s this? Hangover?
“You fainted,” Minho said. I suddenly remembered what happened.
“There was a Crank!” I exclaimed. “Did it hurt anyone?” Minho glanced at the others, who paid no attention to the two of us.
“There was no Crank, Terra,” he said. “You were hallucinating.” I sighed.
“But,” I started, choosing my words carefully. I lowered my tone. “The kiss-- did I hallucinate that, too?” Minho smiled fondly.
“If you did,” he shrugged. “I hallucinated it, too.” I sighed again. Good. Then a thought came to me, and I glanced down at my ankle. My boot and leggings were still covering it.
“Minho, I have to tell you something,” I said, taking his hand and standing. He stood, too. I led him past the rest of the Gladers, and down the stairs. Avoiding all the people there, I walked outside. The sun met us and I shielded my eyes against it.
“What is it?” Minho asked. I looked down, then around. I led him farther away from the building, and sat down near a pile of rusty things. I pondered whether or not to tell him what was truly on my mind. An iron chain and cuff caught my attention, and I tugged at it, thinking of all the Cranks that Jorge had in his building. Shackled like dogs.
I glanced at Minho, who was watching me patiently. The cuff was open. If closed, I knew it wouldn’t be able to open again. Maybe… Then I shook my head, and drew a deep breath. I had to do this.
“Minho,” I said, then paused. “I have--”
Wait.
I can’t do this.
“I have to ask you something,” I finally said, gathering my thoughts. Was it better to keep this to myself? He deserved to know. But how could I tell him? I nodded slightly, raising my eyes to meet his. “I--”
“Hey, guys.” It was Teresa. Minho and I looked up. “Jorge found someone who will give us directions to the Right Arm.” She motioned for us to follow, and we stood up. I reluctantly dropped the chain, and we did as she wanted. She led us back up to the room, where Jorge stood, facing a rather round man who sat in a chair. Brenda was there, as was Thomas, though he was laying unconscious on the bed. I imagined he’d drunk the green drink that had been given to me and Minho.
Minho sat down, and I followed, taking a chair beside him. “So who is this shank?” he asked.
“His name’s Marcus,” Newt said, crossing his arms. “Jorge’s trying to get him to tell us where the Right Arm is, but so far, he hasn’t said anything about them. He’s being quite the unhelpful bastard.”
“Hmm,” Minho nodded, watching as Jorge very brutally hit Marcus. I could tell Minho wanted to do the same to this Crank. He faced Thomas. “Is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine when he wakes up,” Newt replied. Teresa sat next to Thomas, waiting for him to wake. Finally he did, and he sat up, finding himself staring into Teresa’s wide eyes. Minho stood, leaning over her shoulders.
“Welcome back, ugly shank,” he smiled brightly, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening. Thomas chuckled, and looked around the room. When he saw Jorge beating Marcus, he stood, and walked to him. Finally, the man gave in.
“Fine,” he said. His right eye was swollen shut. Blood caked under his nose and in the corners of his mouth; bruises surfaced across his face. “I’ll tell you where the Right Arm is.”
There was an old truck outside of the building, and Jorge ushered the teens in, then climbed into the driver’s side. He turned the ignition and the truck rattled to life. He pressed the gas pedal, and they sped away from there.
The windows were rolled down, and the rushing air filled the inside, causing everyone’s hair to blow around. Newt, sitting shotgun, grinned back at Thomas.
Minho sighed, relieved that finally they would be safe. Finally they would be free. There was no need to worry about Cranks, about WICKED, about anything. He folded his hands, glancing over at Terra. Whatever she was going to tell him earlier didn’t seem to matter now, judging by the peaceful look on her face. But something still tugged at the back of Minho’s mind. A restless feeling. What if the Right Arm was just a myth? Could Marcus have been working for WICKED? Was this all a trap?
It was possible, Minho knew that much. Jorge could be in league with them, too. The whole mission was resting on the shoulders of a man they hardly knew, let alone trusted.
Minho shook his head. Maybe he was over thinking. He looked around. Newt was happy, so was Clare. Thomas was, Frypan was, Terra was. Teresa looked a little disturbed, but that didn’t seem to affect anyone.
As the road wound along, they came to a place where a line of cars zigzagged across their path, blocking any further admittance.
“Looks like we’ll be walking from here on,” Jorge said, opening his door. “Come on, get out.” Everyone did as told, and began toward their destination. The road ahead ducked into a shadowed tunnel, so they headed that way. Minho took Terra’s hand, noticing that, for some reason, she was trying to conceal a limp, though hardly succeeding.
Hey, he said, lacing his fingers with hers. She tensed slightly. You okay?
I’m fine. she said, very bluntly, briefly making eye contact with him. He exhaled sharply, looking about.
From out of nowhere came the sound of gunfire, and bullets ricocheted off of the cars. The group split up unintentionally and ducked behind the vehicles, hoping they were enough protection.
Minho sat against a tire beside Newt, and glanced up, his eyes widening at the sight. Terra stood right where he’d left her, facing the direction from where the bullets came. Her eyes were filled with tears and she stared. Minho swore quietly and pushed himself up, hurrying to her side. Several shouts came from the other Gladers, and a few insults from Jorge.
He grabbed Terra’s hand, and pulled her back to the car he’d been hiding behind. She sat down, and he crouched beside her, resting his hand on the dusty pavement.
“Are you crazy?” he hissed, and she shoved him off of her, crossing her arms and turning away. Minho sighed, bouncing on his toes. “Terra--”
“Don’t talk to me,” she snapped. Minho glanced at Newt, who shrugged. The gunfire had ceased then, and all was silent. Minho peered over the bonnet of the car. Two girls stood in their presence, holding machine guns in their hands. They wore scarves to cover their noses and mouths. One had black hair and dark skin, and the other was pale with blonde hair. They both stood before Jorge, the dark haired girl’s gun at his chin.
“Get up,” she said, motioning with her rifle. Jorge stood, and the blonde girl ordered the others to do the same. They obeyed, and the girls’ eyes searched the group.
Suddenly the dark skinned girl lowered her weapon and mask.
“Aris!” she cried when she recognised him and, when he stood, hugged him.
“Where’ve you been?” the blonde girl asked. “We thought you were dead.” He chuckled, and nodded. Minho stepped forward, brow creasing in confusion.
“What’s going on?” he asked, squinting. Aris laughed again.
“They’re from the same maze as I was,” he explained. Then he turned to the dark haired girl. “We need to get to the Right Arm,” he said.
“Oh!” the dark haired girl exclaimed, then turned her eyes up to the surrounding mountains. “We’re clear down here, guys! Come on out!” Just after she spoke this, dark figures of armed men stepped out from hiding on the Mountaintops. “Come with us, then,” she told the Gladers, and they followed after her.
“Who are they?” Thomas asked Aris quietly. He waved to the dark skinned girl.
“That’s Harriet,” then he pointed to the blonde girl, “and Sonya.” Thomas nodded, and they continued on.
Terra stayed a good distance from Minho, her arms crossed and head down. There was a darkness in her eyes and it worried Minho. Perhaps she was just tired. They all were. But still, something seemed strange about the whole thing. He was still suspicious of Jorge, and also Brenda for that matter.
What about Aris? Could he be with WICKED, too? If he knew these two girls, there was a chance they were, too. Minho began to look around for any ways to get away from this place if things went awry. To their left was only Scorch, and to their right, mountains. He sighed. If Thomas thought these people were trustworthy, then Minho would respect his decision, though still coddling some suspicion.
It took them a while to get where they needed to go, and when they arrived, they found themselves standing in a camp, rather run-down and shabby. Smoke rose from fading fires, and tents were scattered few and in between. It didn’t seem like much of a Right Arm. There were few teens there; it was made up mostly of ragged men and women.
Minho stared; they’d come so far from the maze. If only Alby could see this. If only Chuck could see this. And Gally. Minho closed his eyes for a time, remembering the moment. He hadn’t meant to kill Gally. He’d just wanted to stop him from killing Thomas. Regret clutched his heart, and guilt reminded him that so many deaths of fellow gladers were his fault. Ben. Gally. Winston. He glanced at Terra. Why was she so distant? Was it something he’d done? Was it everything he’d done?
He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets, scanning the camp before them. Harriet and Sonya lead them further still, until they came into the place. Harriet stepped to the side to speak to a passing man.
“Where’s Vince?” she asked, and he waved his arm.
“That way, I think.”
“Thanks,” and she continued to lead the group further into the camp. Thomas looked about, his eyes seeming to try to count the number of people gathered there.
“I thought you said this was an army,” he said.
“It was,” a middle-aged man approached them, his chestnut hair and beard unkempt. “A lot of people died to get us this far.” He turned to Harriet. “Did you check them?”
“Well, he was in the maze with Sonya and me,” she replied, pointing over everyone’s heads at Aris. “I trust him.”
“I don’t,” the man replied, motioning to another. “Check them.”
Then Brenda collapsed.
The man, clearly disturbed, began shouting about a crank in their midst, and snatched the rifle that had hung from his shoulder. Thomas began shouting, too, begging him not to shoot her.
“Please, there’s got to be something you can do for her,” he said, lowering his tone.
“Yeah, there is,” the man nodded, cocking his gun. “I can put her out of her misery. He aimed the gun anyway and set his finger on the trigger.
“Vince!”
A feminine voice behind him spoke. He sighed, turning around. A woman stood, arms crossed, tangled hair blown into her face by the wind. Vince lowered his weapon and stepped back. Thomas immediately knelt beside Brenda and helped her up. The woman, saying something about a kind of antidote, assisted him, and they took Brenda away to a tent.
Minho looked over at Terra, who had strayed from the group. She must have felt his gaze, because she turned her head, and her eyes signalled for him to follow. Then she walked away, her limp visible. Minho set his hand on Newt as he eased by, and hurried after Terra. She lead him to the outer edge of the camp, and he caught up to her.
“Terra,” he said, and she took his hand, quite to his surprise.
“I’m sorry,” her voice made barely a sound. “For being so sharp with you earlier. I didn’t mean to. I just--” she paused, breathing deeply. “Did they help Brenda?”
“I think they were going to,” he said. “They were saying something about medicine for it. Something to stall it, I think.”
“They have something for the Flare?” The strain in her voice surprised Minho. He nodded, and she grew very serious. “Then in that case, I have to show you something.” Her last word was laboured and her voice badly cracked. She bent down to unlace one of her boots, but when doing so, she groaned, and fell forward. Minho shouted in alarm and jumped to catch her, wrapping his arms around her before she collapsed. A trail of black blood ran from her lips, the sight making his heart leap.
He set her down, and tugged off her boot. The veins under her skin ran black, and he hurriedly tugged her legging up. He gasped at what he saw-- torn skin, coloured purple and black. It was the same look as Winston’s stomach after he’d gotten scratched in the Mall. This must have happened there, too, when she’d tripped. Terra had had the Flare for a very long time.
And no one had known.
When I woke, my vision was blurry, but I could barely make out Minho sitting in a chair next to me, rocking back and forth with his hands over his nose and mouth. I exhaled sharply, blinking to clear my sight.
“M-Minho,” I said, my throat sore and voice scratchy. He looked up, and immediately stood, rushing to my side.
“Terra,” he gasped, taking both my hands. His were shaking terribly, and I could see tear stains on his cheeks. I smiled slightly. “You have the Flare,” he told me, and I nodded.
“Since the mall,” I replied, reaching up with my thumb to wipe away the tears that fell again in his eyes. His bottom lip quivered, and he turned his head away from me for a moment. I slipped my fingers into his hair, drawing back his gaze. “It’s okay,” I said, but I knew he knew it wasn’t true. He lowered his head, beginning to shake. I sat up, wrapping my arms around him and placing a kiss on the top of his soft hair. He made a quiet wailing sound, and I winced, my ankle throbbing.
I held him like that for a long time, realising that I’d never seen him that way. I hoped I would never have to see him like that again. He was scared, and I was, too. I didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not now.
After all, how could I? And leave Minho behind? Why was the world such a cruel place?
I hardly noticed as a tear of my own made its way down my face. Then Minho, recovering from his crying state, sniffed, and straightened, drying his face with his sleeve. I tried a comforting smile, taking his hand. He sighed, sitting himself on the bed.
“Is there any way to fix it?” I asked, breaking the silence. He shook his head.
“They said that they can create a serum with Thomas’ blood that can hold it off,” he said. “It’s only temporary, though. They-- they can’t fix it.” I nodded, trying to take it in. I was going to die that way?
Minho must have been thinking the same thing, and the hopeful look in his eyes faded, being replaced by tears. His lip quivered, and I looked up at him again.
“Minho--” I began, but he cut me off with a whine and threw his arms around me, weeping all the more. My eyes stung as tears of my own formed, and I glanced upward to keep them at bay, sliding my arms around Minho’s shaking body.
“Please don’t leave me,” he begged, inhaling shakily. He buried his face against my shoulder, his tears wetting my skin. His words made my struggle to not cry more difficult, and I sighed.
“I won’t,” I replied, my heart pounding in its disbelief. I forced myself to go on. “I promise I won’t leave you.”
Minho sat back, his eyes seeming to search for some kind of seal for that large of a promise. So I touched his face, and he licked his lips. I knew what he wanted.
“Oh, Minho,” I exclaimed, hardly a whisper. His lip quivered again, and I kissed him, pulling him closer to me. This one would last, even if I didn’t. No interruptions, no hallucinations. I closed my eyes and let the tears fall, moving my hand up to run my fingers through his hair.
“Minho,” I breathed, breaking the kiss for just a moment. He gave a quiet grunt in reply, and I set my hand on the back of his neck, leaning my forehead against his. “I don’t want to stay cooped up in here.”
He raised his dark eyes to look into mine. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Let’s get out of here.” I took his hand and he slid off the bed. I followed after, and we walked from there, out into the afternoon sunlight. A harsh cold wind met us, and I shivered, moving closer to Minho. My ankle pained me a bit, but I paid little attention to it as we headed up to the other gladers.
They sat on a rocky hill, dressed warmly. Newt looked up when we approached, fingerless-gloves covering his hands which where holding Clare’s. He smiled, and so did the others.
“How are you?” they all spoke at once, and I smiled. Minho slipped his arm around me as we sat down.
“Better,” I said.
“Good,” Newt grinned. “You had Minho bloody scared.” The others laughed, and Minho smirked.
“We’re all shucking glad you’re okay,” he said.
“I know,” I smiled, leaning my head on his shoulder. It was cold up there, and the sinking sun was stealing away the heat. After a while, Thomas came up and sat with us. He looked around.
“Where’s Teresa?” he asked. Newt jerked his thumb back to point over his shoulder at a ledge on the side of a steep hill. Thomas, nodding his thanks, stood and left. I sighed, pulling the jacket I wore tighter around me. The sky was beginning to grow dark, and stars brightened their glows. I watched as the colours above us changed from red to orange; from orange to blue; and blue to black. All was peaceful now.
But that peace didn’t last too long when a whirring sound filled the air. Bright lights shone down into the camp, and we stood. Two helicopters appeared, their propellers stirring the dust and wind. I shielded my eyes, clutching Minho’s hands. It was WICKED. But how did they find us?
The helicopters flew over the camp, and as they did so, they shot explosives down into the tents, bursting them into flames. Dirt and small rocks were sent flying though the air, and the Right Arm members shouted in alarm.
Minho and I ran down to the main camp, finding our way to Thomas. But when we arrived there, the men from the helicopters were already firing their weapons, the bullets ricocheting off of the rocks, making screeching sounds as they flew passed us. I gripped Minho’s hand, staggering to find shelter. Every step I took, though, sent pain up my leg from my ankle.
At one point I fell, and Minho grabbed me, lifting me from the dirt and carrying me bridal-style. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, and he ducked behind a boulder.
Tents were in flames, and bullets continued to fling themselves around the camp. Thomas was down from the mountain, without, I noticed, Teresa. Then the helicopters landed, and Jansen leapt from one, a gun in his hand. His agents followed him out, scattering to gather together the people here.
“You’ll do well to cooperate,” Jansen’s voice rang out through the camp, and he walked in a careless way-- it intimidated me. I knew he was looking for Thomas. Dr. Ava Paige stood in the doorway of one of the helicopters, watching. The look on her face was emotionless, but her eyes searched the grounds.
I held Minho’s hand tighter.
“We can’t stay here,” he said, and I swallowed hard. “They’ll find us.” I nodded, and we stood, hurrying from there to find another place to hide. The helicopters’ lights illuminated the camp, and I searched for shadow.
“There!” I pointed, pulling Minho along as I ran towards the spot.
I wasn’t paying any attention to my surroundings, and a bullet shot at us, hitting Minho. He cried out, stumbling forward.
“Minho!” I exclaimed, but he kept on.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Just my arm.” By then we’d reached the shadowed place, and we ducked therein. I turned him to face me, tugging the sleeve of his jacket from his arm. Already his tan skin was covered in blood, and I scanned for the bullet hole.
There it was.
Minho winced when I pressed my thumb under it, causing another flow of blood. I looked about for anything to use against it.
“Minho, give me your scarf,” I said, and he obeyed, sliding the cloth from around his neck. I took it, and wrapped it above the wound, tying it as tight as I could. He cringed when I tightened it. I sighed, now taking the scarf from around my neck, and creating a sort of sling to cradle his arm. “There,” I said, satisfied. Minho looked over the rock we hid behind, his eyes darting across the view.
“We’re never going to get out of here alive,” he said in a very matter-of-fact tone. I nodded, knowing he was right.
“Well, you definitely won’t if this doesn’t stop bleeding,” I said, using the same tones as he had. He smirked, not seeming to care. I pulled the sleeve of his jacket back over his shoulder, my hand lingering on his.
He stared at me; I knew what he was thinking.
“It’ll be okay,” I said, but the look in his eyes worried me. He glanced past me, and stood, pulling me behind him. I peered over his shoulder, feeling him reach back and take my hand.
A man stood before him, holding a gun in his hands. He aimed it at Minho, who didn’t flinch once. The agent motioned with his weapon toward all of the Right Arm members they’d gathered together. Minho nodded calmly, and lead me to there, keeping a steady pace. He sat down in the front of the assembly next to Newt, who glanced at us. I lowered myself to my knees beside Minho. What was this? A massacre? Were we all going to die today?
Perhaps it was better for me this way.
Minho’s grip tightened on my hand, and I knew he wouldn’t go down without a fight. But was that a good thing? If we were all going to die, wouldn’t it be better to go peacefully, rather than painfully? Knowing Minho, he would choose the latter if it meant a slight chance of escape. A couple of WICKED agents took a scanner and began to examine the tattoos on the backs of our necks. They called out our numbers to Jansen, obviously like some kind of roll call.
“Where’s Thomas?” Jansen asked, glancing around at those gathered there.
“Here,” Thomas’ voice spoke from behind us, and he walked down, coming to stand before Jansen, who gave a sour smile.
“Thomas,” he spoke in his usual annoying voice, and set his hand on the teen’s shoulder. Then he clenched his fist and punched him hard-- in the stomach. Thomas doubled over, and Jansen pushed him into the group with the others. Then, to all of our surprise, Teresa walked calmly to Doctor Paige and stood beside her.
“What’s this?” Frypan asked, and Thomas’ eyes flicked at Teresa.
“She’s with them,” he replied, eliciting several gasps from his friends. But Teresa didn’t even flinch. Then Jansen motioned to the other agents.
“Alright, load them up,” he ordered.
The dark clad men began to pull us to our feet and lead us away, until Thomas escaped the grasp of his captor and pulled two small devices from his jacket. I turned in all the excitement and saw it was some kind of explosive. He held the trigger in his right hand.
“No one move!” he shouted, and Jansen called for the guns to be lowered. Both he and Ava Paige began to try to convince him to do otherwise. Then Minho moved from where he was to stand behind Thomas. Newt hurried to do so, too, and was followed by Frypan.
“Do it, Thomas,” Minho said, breathing heavily. I cringed, and Frypan nodded.
“We’re ready,” he added.
“Thomas, don’t do it,” Ava countered. “I’m not trying to hurt you, I’m a doctor. I took an oath to find a cure, and that’s what I intend to do!”
“We’re not going with you,” Thomas shook his head. Ava looked frustrated, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Thomas,” she replied.
“Like I should trust you,” he snapped.
“She’s not lying, Thomas!” Teresa suddenly spoke, stepping forward. “She promised she wouldn’t!”
“It’s true,” Ava backed. “It was her only condition.” But Thomas shook his head, thumb moving to the trigger.
In all the excitement that arose in the following minutes, a voice amid the shouts and screams caught Ava’s attention, and she fell silent, as did everyone else. Her expression softened, and she smiled.
“Mary,” she said, and the woman stepped forward, arms hung loosely by her side. “It’s been a long time. I’m sorry we had to meet under such circumstances.” Mary nodded.
“It has been a long time,” she agreed. “But I’m not sorry for the circumstances. What we’re doing is good, and my conscience is clear.” Ava’s expression remained soft, much to my surprise.
“So is mine,” she replied. Her words must have been some kind of cue, for just after she spoke, Jansen raised his gun and fired it, the bullet leaving in a hurry and striking it’s target. Mary grunted, her eyes lowering. A flow of blood spread down her shirt from her stomach, and she fell forward. Vince cried out in his sadness, and knelt beside her, taking her into his arms.
The WICKED army stood lined before us, their guns in their hands. This was it. I accepted the fact with a deep breath in. This was how it would end.
But fate would have it otherwise, I realised, as Jorge, who had been absent all this time, came tearing through in a truck, shouting and laughing. He blocked the way between WICKED and the Right Arm, and there he parked the truck, jumping out the passenger door.
“Come on, hermano,” he said to Thomas, who stood. The rest of us did the same, and the Right Arm erupted in one giant cry. They took guns from the WICKED agents, and the camp was full of life again.
Vince was in the back of one of his trucks, a machine gun set up before him. He fired it madly at the WICKED agents, and then raised its nose to the sky and the stream of bullets shot at the helicopter above. Minho and I, Newt and Clare, and Frypan were instantly taking up the weapons scattered across the ground. I had no idea how to shoot a rifle, but I did my best, mimicking all of Minho’s moves, as he seemed to know what he was doing. For a while we kept the agents held back, and Thomas joined us.
But more and more WICKED agents came, and we were forced to back up. Minho was hesitant though, repeatedly firing his gun, shouting at us to get back. There was no way the WICKED men would get past him. Unless--
One of the agents took out their strange stun guns, and, when Minho’s rifle ran out of ammunition, fired the weapon. Minho shouted in surprise and dropped his gun, pain evident on his face as the electric energy caused his whole body to tremble. He twisted and fell against the rock, struggling to keep a conscious state. His breath was heavy, and he grunted, reaching for his gun.
I stood frozen, just as if I, too, had received the same ill treatment. For a time I couldn’t speak, but when I finally did, only one word came out of me. “Minho!”
Then I ran, hoping against hope to get to him before the WICKED agents. I did, and, sliding to a stop in the dirt, collapsed to my knees beside him, raising my gun. After firing a few rounds at the agents, I slipped my arm around him, taking his hand and pulling it across my shoulders. He groaned as I tried to lift him, staggering to support him. The others were watching helplessly as I quivered under the weight. I glanced over my shoulder at the approaching agents. There was no way I could bring him away from there so quickly, so I threw myself on top of him, shielding him from the agents.
Fat lot of good that did, I found as they came and pulled me off of him with little effort. I screamed at them and flailed my legs and arms, kicking a few of them. They took Minho, too, dragging him back to the helicopter. He made no attempt to stop them, whereas I still pitched a fit, and they had to-- three of them-- hold my legs and arms tightly so I couldn’t struggle anymore. I wiggled around a bit, but found that did no good, so I stopped, giving up with a grunt.
As they took the two of us into the helicopter, I saw Teresa standing in the doorway beside Ava Paige. She’d been working with WICKED for Heaven knows how long.
Minho’s eyes were closing, and I broke my arm free from the agents’ grips, taking his hand. He looked at me, and for a moment, I saw an emotion in his eyes I’d only seen a few times before. Then he sighed, and his eyelids fluttered and closed.
And the doors shut.
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