Chapter 10: Flying bullets

Out of the corner of his eye, Jorge observed the little reunion of Thomas with the rest of the Gladers, pretending to keep guarding the prisoners all the while.

"You too," Thomas reciprocated at Newt's remark. "Has everyone made it so far? Where'd you guys go? How'd you get here?"

Newt nodded. "Still eleven of us. Plus Jorge."

Jorge's eyes shortly met with Thomas's, when the boy looked around as if he wanted to see for himself that everyone was okay. However, his mouth opened for an outburst of questions before he was even finished checking out the surroundings. Curious.

"Any sign of Barkley and the rest of them? Were they the ones who set off the explosion?"

He was the first to answer it, while shooting a glance of warning in Minho's direction – and Newt's as well. "Haven't seen 'em since. We got away pretty quick, and they're too scared to come deeper into the city."

At first, Jorge almost did not know himself why he fabricated this white lie. But, of course, it was for Brenda. He knew she wasn't fragile, but nevertheless, he wanted to keep the bad stuff from her. Even though she hadn't gotten acquainted with Barkley or the other Cranks that well, he did not want to burden her with any of it. Yeah, sometimes, it made absolutely no sense what you did for your loved ones. Not rationally, that is. Still, for him, it seemed like the right thing to do.

For some reason, however, Thomas barely gave a sign of having received his answer. Instead, he stared distractedly at the man Jorge was holding at swordpoint – if that was even a word – and started to look anxious.

Jorge frowned. What the hell was going on?

Thomas lowered his voice and huddled with Minho and Newt to share something that must be important, but not something he wanted the rest of them to know, apparently. Whereas Jorge only thought: if they were in danger, they should all prepare for it.

"Who gives a klunk?" he heard Minho saying in his usual careless demeanor. Strangely, this comforted Jorge. "We'll be out of this stupid city in an hour. And we should go. Now."

"Okay. I want to get out of here before he comes back," Thomas agreed, leaving Jorge hanging in midair. Who did he mean by that?

"Listen up!" Minho called out and turned to the Crank prisoners, as Jorge was still thinking about which person, all on his own, could be so dangerous that Thomas feared for their safety. "We're leaving now. Don't follow us, you'll be fine. Follow us, you'll be dead. Pretty easy choice, don't ya think?"

Again, he caught Thomas's gaze and met it with a raised eyebrow. If he was wondering about how and when Minho had taken the leadership role from him, he should think twice before saying it out loud. The fact was, Jorge knew when he had to take a step back, but it most definitely didn't mean that he couldn't influence the decisions being made – if he wanted to. The second thing he noticed, was the almost longing look at Brenda, effectively leading to the resurface of Jorge's protectiveness. He turned to Brenda, tried to cheer her up with a friendly wink and watched how most of the Gladers left the building. He motioned for her to step outside as well, turning his attention swiftly to the remaining Cranks, who were with more people than they were. By far. Time for getting their attention on the weapons they had. Jorge kicked Tall and Ugly in the back, pushing him towards the rest of the prisoners, and swung with both his knife and the newly acquired sword. Minho and Newt were doing the same thing with their weapons.

"So long, muchachos," he grinned, then stepped out of the building without turning his back towards them, almost bumping into Thomas, who apparently thought that standing still at the doorway seemed like an excellent idea. Jorge rolled his eyes and wriggled his way past him. What was he waiting for? An invitation to leave?

Minho, however, took the words out of his mouth and gave Thomas a push. "Come on, dude. We can make a run for it. There's only about a mile left. These Cranks aren't so hard to fight after all. So let's..."

"Hey!" a harsh voice interrupted the boy.

Although Jorge was sure he hadn't heard that person speak before, he immediately knew that it was bad news. With a jerk, he turned his head to this unknown person, only to have to witness the man pulling the trigger of a gun – and the bullet hitting Thomas's left shoulder. It almost seemed surreal. He could have wondered how the hell the man had gotten his hands on a gun in this city and why he had waited until now to use it (or why use it at all), but instead, he just moved on instinct. Jorge sprinted towards the shooter, grabbed the hand holding the gun and pressed it up in the air. The second shot just barely missed him, the sound bellowing in his ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of someone with a dark hairdo lunging with speed and force at the assailant, causing them both to tumble unto the ground.

It left Jorge only with the gun in his hands. Huh? He shook off his confusion and then let the weapon fall. A metal clanking resounded when it hit the cement. Glancing up, he saw Minho punching the living crap out of the blond man he had tackled. He quickly intervened, pulling the boy away and ducking away for any swings in his direction.

"Calm down, boy."

"Let me go! I'm gonna kill that shuckin' shank!"

"Minho."

Although he uttered just one word, there was a clear warning in his voice. For the first time since they met, Jorge called him by his name, which emphasized the urgency of the situation. Minho had to calm down and focus on what mattered. It wasn't Blondie's life he should worry about, but if Thomas would live.

It was as if it woke the Asian teen up. A bit dazed, he stared at Jorge, but then nodded.

Jorge carefully loosened his grip. When it became clear that Minho wouldn't storm off again to repeat his tackle-and-punch mode, he turned to Thomas.

Newt was there too, pressing someone's shirt tightly at the wound. He pulled it off for a second upon seeing Jorge and sent him a questioning look.

"I can get that sucker out of him. But I'll need a fire."

"We can't do this here," Newt responded grimly.

Minho tuned in as well. "Let's get out of this shuck city."

"All right," Jorge agreed. "Help me carry him."

With Minho already to his side, Frypan and Dmitri rushed forwards to lift Thomas from the ground. Jorge nodded at them and then looked at Newt, who slightly held his hand against his own chest, indicating that the pain from his wound was still bothering him as well, but he kept exerting pressure on Thomas's wound.

"Ready?" the boy with the limp said. "On the count of three. One, two, three."

Together they lifted Thomas up, accompanied by his moans in pain. Quickly after that, his body went limp when the poor boy lost his consciousness. Well, maybe it was better to pass out than to keep feeling this pain. Jorge knew that from experience.

"Vámonos!" he told the Gladers to move. "Let's go."

A cry from behind urged them even more to get a move on. What? Brenda saw more Cranks coming? Were those the ones without the noses? Jorge wondered. Would they even dare to show themselves in the middle of the day – and attack them? Not likely, but then again: they were practically the paragon of lunacy. They were unpredictable as hell.

And Jorge sure wasn't going to wait to find out.

Author's note: Again, several lines were from the book. How do you guys like it so far? Do you feel like the characters are done right by? I've been looking for a proper picture to portrait Jorge, but I cannot seem to find one that matches my image of him in my head. I'm particularly curious of your opinions: how do you think he looks like? Or should I maybe just get used to the person they have cast for the movie?