Disclaimer:

"Please, Tommy. Please."

Thomas finally gave Newt the wifi password so he would stop begging for it.

-✼-

My eyes, brimming with tears, followed Winston's body as it thunked down the stairs. I couldn't control my stomach. It was doing flips and flops inside of me in the most uncomfortable of fashions. The ball sunk down Winston's head; it began to close around his ears as he screamed and tried his best to pry it off of him.

"What do we do?" I managed to ask in a strangely choked gasp. My chin was wobbling; it was a horrible sight to see Winston fighting for his life against some metal thing.

"Leave him," Minho muttered so lowly that I could barely hear him over Winston's helpless cries. His expression held a certain kind of sadness as he watched his friend die right before his eyes, but it masked over and he commanded louder, "Leave him."

"What?" Thomas barked, swiveling his head around to gaze up at Minho with squinted eyes. "Are you crazy?"

"Thomas, if you go back for him, I will have no choice but to..." Minho trailed off and squeezed his eyes shut as Winston's screams grew louder. They echoed in the stairwell and dug into every crevice of our ears. "Never mind. Point is, leave him. We can't help him."

Thomas's mouth was slightly agape as he stared at Minho in shock for a few seconds. He turned to Winston, who was thrashing around at the bottom of the steps, limbs flailing wildly all over the place. His body rattled against the concrete floor as his hands groped blindly at the metal ball that was almost covering his mouth. In a matter of seconds, his screams cut off. All of us turned away and averted our gazes- we knew what was coming next.

Minho was releasing labored breaths out of his mouth like he was trying to calm himself down. His fists were clenched at his sides, biceps tense in the line of light that was shining just in front of him. Slowly, he stuck out an outstretched palm toward the outside and held it into the sun.

After a few seconds, he pulled his hand back like he had touched a stove. "That's hot. Definitely hot." He turned back to Newt and I. "If we're gonna do this, we better have something wrapped around us or we'll have second-degree sunburns in five minutes."

"Let's empty out our packs," Newt suggested as he took his off of his shoulder. "Wear these sheets as buggin' robes as we check things out. If it works well enough, we can stuff the food and water into half our sheets and use the other half for protection."

Thomas lumbered up the stairs with a grumpy expression on his pale face- he was clearly still upset about the decision not to help Winston. He already had his sheet clenched in his right hand. "We'll look like ghosts– scare away any bad guys out there."

"Yeah, we'll scare away any possible Cranks for sure," I grumbled, then instantly felt a prick of guilt for saying something insensitive, especially when we had just watched someone die. The grief was fresh on my mind and swirled my thoughts around; it was hard to filter between my thoughts and the words that came out of my mouth.

Minho upended his pack and let everything drop to the floor. The Gladers closest to us scrambled to make sure nothing bounced down the steps. "I don't see how anyone could just be hanging out in that heat, he commented. "Hopefully there'll be trees or some kind of shelter."

"I don't know," Newt sighed. "Then they might be hiding, bloody waitin' for us or something."

Thomas' hands were basically twitching at his sides. It didn't take our twin power for me to know that he was itching to check out the place; I had no clue why, considering it was scorching hot. I could already feel a line of sweat building up on my brow.

"We won't know till we investigate," Thomas said impatiently. "Let's go." He shook out his sheet and wrapped it over his head and around his body, covering his hair completely. "How do I look?"

Like a dork, my inner conscious snickered.

"Like the ugliest shank I've ever seen," Minho replied with his nose jokingly crinkled. "You better thank the gods above you were born a dude."

I cleared my throat, shifting my weight onto one foot and raising my eyebrows expectantly at Minho. He had crossed two lines by a) calling Thomas ugly and b) indirectly saying I was ugly as well.

Minho's ears turned red when he realized his mistake. His eyes met mine, slightly widened. "You better be grateful you don't look like Thomas much."

Newt shook his head. "Just stop, you shank."

"Sounds like a plan."

The three of us copied Thomas' actions of spreading the sheets over us, though I had to bunch mine up in my hands much more than they did. The fabric almost swallowed me whole. It was a struggle because I lost the end multiple times, leading to me fumbling around in the measly line of light that had seemed like all the light in the world just moments ago. Once I had the sheet draped over me and a little bit was shading my face, I turned and faced the others.

A smile took over Newt's face. "You look adorable."

I looked down at myself, the sheet completely overpowering my tiny frame. "Glad to know my lack of height is cute."

"You shanks ready?" Minho asked, looking between Thomas, Newt, and I.

"Kind of excited, actually," Newt answered.

Excited? I was more anxious than excited. If just five seconds of placing a hand in the heat had been almost unbearable to Minho, then how were we supposed to travel a hundred miles in it? It was almost as if I was the only one who remembered our mission.

Minho's shoulder pushed hard into the door once again. It creaked and shuddered as he straightened his legs and pushed it open. Newt hurried to grab the shirt he had stuffed into the corner, hugging it close to his chest underneath his sheet. Finally, the door flew open all the way and we were halfway standing in the most intense heat we'd ever felt.

The sheet did nothing to protect me from the sun's powerful rays. I could feel them baking my skin and frying up every cell in my body until my muscles even seemed to burn. All of the moisture was sucked from my mouth due to the bone-dry air.

"I'm steppin' out," Minho announced, then moved from the stairwell and into the desert. I followed right behind him. Newt trailed me, and then Thomas came last. He tripped on the last step and went sprawling onto the sand.

Right when my eyes scanned the area, I felt as if bringing the water bags was completely useless. The word 'Scorch' described the area perfectly, and I realized why Rat Man had called it so. The landscape was bare for as far as my eyes could see. The brilliant light of the sun beat down on us from the east. No vegetation - except for a few scraggly weeds - managed to survive the harsh conditions.

Thomas sounded like he was having a coughing fit. He was still on the ground with his sheet completely covering his entire body, ragged breaths entering and leaving his lungs like he couldn't get any air in. I quickly knelt beside him and flipped the sheet up so I could see him.

He was lying on his back with his chest heaving dangerously. A concerned crease formed between my eyebrows. Had he swallowed sand? Did the fall knock the breath out of him?

Just as I was about to consider smacking him on the back, his breaths returned to normal. The pace of his breathing slowed until it was regular. Thomas' brown eyes met mine, and after noticing the expression of worry on my face, he nodded to tell me he was alright. I held out a hand and helped him to his feet. He didn't seem to notice that mine was covered in dried blood that I quickly hid by wrapping the sheet around my fists.

"My eyeballs hurt, but I think I'm finally starting to get used to the light," Minho commented.

"The only thing that gives me hope is those mountains over there." Newt reached out from his sheet and pointed to a line of jagged peaks far to the west. They seemed to shimmer in the waves of heat. I had to blink to make sure I wasn't just imagining them.

"And that city," I added, motioning to a cluster of dilapidated skyscrapers that were significantly closer than the mountains, though it would still take us a fair amount of time to reach them. The next bit of good news was that the sun was beginning to sink into the horizon. Night would fall soon, meaning the air would be less stifling.

"How far away do you think it is?" Newt asked. His voice was already growing hoarse as if he hadn't drunk in days.

"Could that be a hundred miles?" Thomas wondered aloud. "That's definitely north. Is that where we have to go?"

I was surprised at Thomas' sense of direction. How did he know that was north? I had noted the position of the sun only by what was to my current east.

Minho, however, was less impressed and merely shook his head. "No way, dude. I think we're supposed to go that way, but it's not even close to a hundred miles. Thirty at most. And the mountains might be sixty or seventy."

"Maybe the mileage counts the length of the city," I surmised. "Say Minho's right and it ends up being thirty miles away. Well, that plus the city and whatever's beyond it must be a hundred miles. Besides- Rat Man didn't say the cure was at a place. He just said we were going to get it."

Newt jabbed his thumb at me. "She's got a point— and a very good one. I say we listen to her."

"You're just siding with her because she's your girlfriend," Minho teased with a pretend roll of his eyes, though he looked as if he was considering my statement. "Anyways, let's get the rest of those shanks up here and start walking. No time to waste letting the sun suck all the water out of us."

"Maybe we should wait until it comes down," Newt suggested.

"No way," I protested almost instantly, shivering at the reminder of the boy with the metal ball on his head as he fell on top of me. I could clearly see his crusted blood on my hands. "I'm not letting another person die because the sun's a little hot."

Thomas nodded. "I think we're okay. Looks like sunset's only a few hours away. We can be tough for a while, take a break, then go as far as possible during the night. I can't stand another minute down there."

Minho nodded firmly as well.

"Sounds like a plan," Newt agreed. "For now, let's just make it to the dusty old town and hope it's not full of our Crank buddies."

Minho walked back to the hatch and leaned over it. "Hey, you bunch of sissy, no-good shanks! Grab all the food and get up here!"

-/-

"I think I'm going to die."

I groaned loudly as we trudged along the sandy wasteland of the barren desert. Harvey wouldn't stop complaining, and I was getting tired of hearing him whine every two minutes. Theo and I shared annoyed glances as Harvey ran a hand through his shoulder-length black hair.

"We know, amigo," Theo sighed, staring at his feet as they moved. "We've known since you first told us when we started walking. Besides, you aren't going to die because it's hot." He paused thoughtfully. "Heatstroke, maybe, but no dying."

Harvey's face and most of his body were soaked with sweat, just like the rest of us. The collar of his black shirt was visibly wet in the intense light of the sun. The sheet was half-heartedly draped across his shoulders, maybe because it didn't help at all. He dragged a hand across his forehead every so often; his hairline was slick and black locks stuck to his skin.

"Okay, I'll shut up," he grumbled. "Sorry. When I'm miserable, I have a tendency to say all of my thoughts aloud."

"We've noticed," I replied with a twinge of sarcasm in my voice. The blazing heat was causing my vision to swim, and I kept thinking I could see two distant figures running toward us. When I blinked, they appeared to be shaped like cacti. I was having trouble figuring out if they were real or not.

I rubbed my eyes every so often, causing the skin beneath them to go raw. Sand blew into my vision from the people in front of me flicking it up from their shoes. My throat was so dry it may as well have been the Scorch itself, but I wasn't about to waste any of my water yet.

Someone started yelling, causing the entire group to stop. Frypan was excitedly pointing to figures in the distance that were definitely coming closer. So they had been people.

"Are those...people?" Theo questioned as he tried to lift himself up on his toes so he could see over others' heads. His eyes squinted to see from such a distance.

"Looks like it," Harvey replied. He was about six-foot-something, which was much taller than Theo and I. It came in handy when he needed to see something.

"Everyone pack in tighter," Minho commanded loudly enough for everyone to hear and snap out of their dazes. He was already reaching for Newt. "And get ready to fight these shanks at the first sign of trouble."

My body tensed as the rest of us packed into a dense circle of sweaty bodies and a rancid stench from the heat. I tried not to think about how bad it smelled and instead stuffed down my fear into an expressionless mask on my face. I couldn't help but picture my dad in my head, of how inhumane he had become from the Flare.

If I didn't get the cure, that would be me.

The two figures stopped a couple dozen feet in front of our clumped circle. One was a man and the other was a woman — I could tell by the shape of her body — but both were otherwise tall and scrawny. Their heads and faces were mummified in tattered beige cloth with holes in the eyes and mouths. Their clothing consisted of poorly-sewn scraps of fabric stitched together in an extremely ugly fashion. The only real piece of skin I could see was their hands, which were red and covered in cracked scabs.

I was close to them- in fact, a little too close for my liking. Minho was in the front, of course, with Newt beside him. I was only a few spaces away from the two of them. Thomas was off on the other side. Theo had his shoulder smushed against mine, with Harvey to his left.

"Who are you?" Minho demanded.

The two people didn't respond. They only heaved in ragged pants from the run over here in the sweltering heat and with their skin covered. They split up and started walking along our group, slitted eyes roaming across each individual. Eventually they met again in the back, causing us to have to shuffle around so Minho could talk to them and see them at the same time.

"There are a whole lot more of us than there are of you," our leader said, tone full of frustration and slight exhaustion. "Start talking. Tell us who you are."

"We're Cranks."

My body was suddenly encased in cold. The sun's rays were ice dripping into my veins. My heart weighed down with a poisonous fear that caused it to plummet into my stomach. Despite my terror, I kept my neutral expression.

They didn't look like Cranks- at least, they didn't look like my dad. In fact, aside from the strange mummy-like attire and hands covered in sores, the two seemed completely ordinary. In the ways that they moved, they appeared to be functioning how normal humans did.

"Cranks?" Minho echoed. "Just like the ones that tried to break into our building a couple days ago?"

Okay, that made no sense. Minho obviously thought these people were tests from W.I.C.K.E.D. However, I didn't think they were. They didn't appear to have a single clue what he was talking about.

"We're Cranks," the man repeated. He pointed over our heads and to the city beyond. "Came to see if you're Cranks. Came to see if you got the Flare."

Minho turned and rose his eyebrows at us. There was an unreadable look in his eyes; it almost seemed like he was stuffing down his emotions until he appeared to be completely devoid of feeling. He turned back around. "Some dude told us we had the Flare, yeah. What can you tell us about it?"

"Doesn't matter," the man replied gruffly. The strips of cloth around his mouth rustled with every word. "You got it, you'll know soon enough."

The skin peeled off his body. Sores covering every inch of him. Hair ripped out. Chunks of flesh rotting on the floor. Insane laughter. You'll know soon enough.

Newt shouldered his way back to the front to stand beside Minho. "Well, what do you bloody want? What's it matter to you if we're Cranks or not?"

The woman was the one to speak this time. She either ignored Newt or hadn't heard him. "How'd you get in the Scorch? Where'd you come from? How'd you get here?"

My gut told me it would be best to lie about how we showed up in the middle of an empty desert with no sign of life for miles all around. The thing was, what was our cover story? It would seem too sketchy if I told them some lie about how we all stuck together and infected one another on accident without knowing.

Minho, however, had a different idea. To my horror, he turned to the Cranks and spoke the truth. "We were sent here by W.I.C.K.E.D. Came out of a hole just a little while that way, from a tunnel. We are supposed to go one hundred miles to the north, cross the Scorch. Any of that mean a thing to you?"

They completely ignored him.

"Not all Cranks are gone," the man said with a distant look in his wet eyes. "Not all of them are past the Gone. Different ones at different levels. Best you learn Who to make friends with and who to avoid. Or kill. Better learn right quick if you're coming our way."

"What's your way?" Minho interrogated. "You came from that town, right? Is that where all these Cranks live? Is there food and water there?"

Once again, the two didn't bother responding to us. A shiver ran down my spine when they split up and circled around us again like they were herding up prey. Something felt wrong about them, more than the fact that they were Cranks.

"If you don't have it yet, you'll have it soon," the woman warned. "Same with the other group. The ones that're supposed to kill you."

I felt as if something had hit me hard and fast, square in my chest and knocked out all the air. My eyes grew to the size of small planets. Those people— where they another setup from W.I.C.K.E.D? They obviously knew about Group B and their plans to kill Thomas. Maybe my initial opinion of them being completely normal had been wrong.

But before I could force them to answer any questions, the two people turned around and ran back towards the city, leaving us in the dust.

gif is newt bc he's cute

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me: *raises arms like tony stark as an explosion of hate comments booms behind me for the disclaimer*

i'm so sorry for the mildly longish wait! i've been so busy and i had next to no motivation to write this, whoops ://

questions:

-do you think those people are from W.I.C.K.E.D?

-will group b want to capture dylan, too?

-who's your favorite member of group b?

-would you choose the scorch or the maze?

if you haven't already, check out my fairly new minho fanfic called aegis! #shamelessselfpromo

-kristyn