Thunder rumbles in the distance, soft at first but quickly growing.
A flash of lightning, and Ash holds her breath as she counts the seconds. One, two, three…
Seven seconds total.
She scrambles to her feet, nudging awake those closest to her. Teresa hadn't been asleep to begin with, and helps her get everyone else up and moving. With the next flash, Thomas joins the effort.
Six seconds.
"We need to move, now!" he barks, dragging one of the boys to his feet.
Artificial light twinkles in the distance, in the direction of the mountains, but it's drowned out as the next strike of lightning.
Five seconds.
There's no rain, but the thunder is nearly deafening. Static ripples through the air, and just as soon as everyone's up and ready, they take off.
Unlike their trip through the Scorch thus far, this pace is far quicker— even more than going through the Maze. Everyone's sprinting for their lives, trying to outrun the lightning storm and find shelter.
The buildings are getting closer and closer, but they're still so far away.
Four.
The flash illuminates the terrain, finally letting the Gladers see what exactly their destination is— a small cluster of warehouses, with broken windows and rusted metal walls.
Three.
Those in the front of the group— Thomas, Minho, Gally, and Eddie— slow their pace just enough to shepherd everyone toward the same building.
Two.
Chuck trips, face-planting in the dirt, and Minho sprints past Ash to go back for him.
One.
Thunder roars as yet another bolt of lightning strikes less than fifteen feet away from the pair, louder than anything Ash has ever heard. Shoving the youngest Glader forward, Minho yells for them to keep moving.
Another flash lights up the warehouse, less than fifty feet away now. Gally and Frypan are pulling open the doors, ushering in the others. Thomas, however, runs back toward Minho, barely avoiding a collision with Ash.
As she reaches the safety of the warehouse, she turns to see Minho laying on his side, Thomas just reaching him. Gally runs out to help, and together they bring the unconscious runner inside.
Frypan and two others hastily shut the doors after a quick headcount. Thomas and Gally lay Minho down on his back, and Ash kneels at his side as she checks for a pulse.
Nothing.
Shit.
Drawing back to the first aid class she took when she was twelve, she begins doing chest compressions. He needs air, she thinks, trying to keep count, when she suddenly remembers her first day as a medjack.
"Jeff, the plastic sheet!" she yelps, not stopping the chest compressions. He knows exactly what she's talking about, and quickly digs through his bag to pull one out. She instructs Newt, the closest other Glader, on how to use it.
It takes two rounds of breaths, but it works.
Minho gasps for his own air, and Ash scrambles back to give him room with a small but triumphant grin.
"I knew I'd remember what those were," she says, panting. Jeff laughs, helping her to her feet as Minho asks what had happened.
"You got struck by lightning," Thomas tells him.
"You technically died," Ash adds, sobering up as her smile fades.
There's a beat of silence, then Minho lets out a small grunt of disgust.
Ash rolls her eyes, trying to hide her smile, as he slowly gets to his feet. There's a faint scent of burnt hair coming off him, but beyond that he seems fine.
Teresa lets out a yelp as a Crank lunges for her from the shadows, and the entire group scrambles back toward the door. Chains rattle all around them as more Cranks seem to come to life, but none get any closer than they already are. There are only a few this close to the doors, but as the teens shine their flashlights deeper into the room, dozens more can be seen struggling against their restraints.
A voice rings out above the racket, young and feminine, and a light flicks on from her direction. A girl of about the same age as the Gladers (with the exception of Chuck) stands in a doorway to their right.
"I see you've met our guard dogs," she says, confidently weaving her way between the Cranks to reach the group.
As she gets closer, Ash bites her tongue to hold in her gasp. She looks just like him, she thinks, and the guilt settles in her gut once more. George, I'm so sorry.
She finally reaches them, unflinching even as one Crank gets its jaw dangerously close to her face.
"You guys look like shit," she says, smirking as her eyes sweep over each and every Glader… and Aris. Her dark eyes linger on Thomas, at the front of the pack, before settling on Teresa.
"We just outran a lightning storm," Ash replies lightly. "What else did you expect?"
This makes the girl laugh. "Mm, I like you," she says. "C'mon, follow me… unless you wanna stay here with them." She gestures to her 'guard dogs'.
As she makes her way back toward the light, Ash grabs both Thomas and Minho by their elbows. "For the love of god, let me do the talking," she hisses.
The boys give her nearly identical confused looks, glancing at each other as she releases them and follows the girl. The rest of them fall in a line, carefully avoiding the Cranks. She leads them to the other side of the warehouse, which is set up like a refugee camp.
Which it is.
Dozens and dozens of people, disheveled and disheartened, mill about. Most of them are adults, though there are a few young children. A single baby's crying can be heard in the distance. Small campfires are scattered about, most of them contained within metal trash cans, sending a gentle warmth through the air. Lanterns are strung about on every support pillar, along the railing of the upper floors, from the ceiling of the lower-hanging sections. Ragged blankets and worn-out camping tents separate little sections along the floor, like an apocalyptic neighborhood.
"C'mon, hurry up," the girl calls over her shoulder. "Jorge wants to meet you."
Ash swallows her nerves as she follows the girl toward a staircase in the back of the room. Footsteps echo behind her— her friends and the residents alike. Everything echoes off the stone flooring.
"Who's Jorge?" Thomas asks, and Ash throws him a sharp glance as the girl responds with a cryptic,
"You'll see." She continues, "No one's come out of the Scorch in a long time. You've just got him curious… and me, too."
They've gathered a bit of a crowd now, several intimidating men following behind them.
"Am I the only one starting to get a bad feeling about this place?" Newt mutters.
"Let's just hear him out," Thomas says, "see what he has to say."
At the top of the stairs, the girl presents them to a man fiddling with an old radio. The sound coming from it is mostly static, mixed with that unique whine of the airwaves coming together. The man scoffs, flicking a switch and shutting the machine off before turning toward the group.
Ash elbows Thomas and glares at him, a reminder of what she'd told him before.
Lightning flashes from outside, the thunder from it practically rattling the floor.
The man turns to them, hands on his hips. "You ever get the feeling the whole world's against you?" he asks. He doesn't really wait for a response before continuing, "Three questions: where do you come from, where are you going… and how can I profit?"
He pours himself a drink as Ash speaks up.
"We escaped a small settlement on the other side of the city," she says quickly. "It got overrun with Cranks a couple weeks ago, and we've been trying to find help ever since."
The man nods, taking a sip. "And question two?"
"We're looking for the Right Arm," she says. Mocking laughter rises up from the men who'd followed them. "We heard rumors that they're somewhere in these mountains, and that they might have a safe place."
"You're looking for ghosts, you mean," Jorge says, sharing a look with the girl who'd brought the group to him. He takes another sip of his drink.
"And what about my third question?" he finally asks.
"If they can help us," Ash says confidently, "then they can help you, too."
He regards her carefully for a moment before chuckling. "Okay, little hermana, I'll humor you," he says, then addresses the men. "Get them some blankets and dinner. It seems our new friends here have had a rough time of it. Brenda, take them to our guest area. We'll discuss you kids' plans in the morning."
"Thank you," Ash says, sighing a breath of relief. One less thing to worry about.
The men disperse, some of them grumbling to one another, while the girl— Brenda— takes lead of the Gladers once more. Back down the stairs, weaving through the encampment, and toward a different flight of stairs.
As they begin to ascend, one of the men blocks the path. He sneers at the closest Glader, Minho.
"So we're taking in strays, now?" he asks, voice dripping with condescension. The girl pauses, halfway up the stairs, and turns back toward the man.
"Back off, Barton," she snaps. "You heard Jorge— they're our guests."
The man glares at her, but says nothing else. Minho smirks as he turns away from the man.
At the top of the stairs is a railed-off platform that overlooks most of the encampment. Ash swallows harshly and promises herself not to get too close to the edges, railing or not.
Brenda leaves them up there with a promise to check on those supplies Jorge had sent for, and the group finally begins to relax. They sent down their bags, spreading across the roughly thirty-foot by thirty-foot platform.
Ash finds a spot in the middle of the platform, sighing heavily as she runs her hands over her face. Her head, though the pain has finally gone away, is still swimming as she tries to sort out the two distinct lives she can now remember. Despite the fatigue setting deep in her bones, she knows she likely won't be getting any sleep.
It's going to be a long night.
Brenda finally returns with those who had been sent for the Gladers' supplies and dinner. Three people have mats and worn blankets. Another one brings some food, just a couple loaves of bread and some dried meat.
"There might not be enough of the blankets to go around," Brenda says. "We're a little short on supplies right now, but Jorge's working on getting more."
"Thanks," Thomas mutters. A few of the others echo the sentiment.
"This'll be fine for now," Ash says, a little more warmly. "We can make it work. Seriously, we can't thank you guys enough."
She remembers the scene between her and Thomas, later on at the Right Arm's camp. The trinket box with her brother's photo in it. The brother's name— George.
Ash bites her tongue. The jawline, the shape of the nose, the coloring of the hair and eyes. She's certain it's the same George she had known.
Brenda just gives a little nod before heading back toward where they'd come from, where they'd left Jorge behind, and Ash shakes herself out of it for now. Maybe she can ask Brenda later, after becoming friends first. The lackeys had left just as soon as they'd dropped off their arm loads, leaving the Gladers alone.
Sure enough, there aren't quite enough mats and blankets to go around, and some of the teens find themselves having to share. Thomas shares one with Chuck, Minho and Newt share one, and Teresa and Ash pair up.
At first.
After about two hours of fitful half-sleep, Ash finds herself blanketless and halfway off the mat. Teresa is tossing and turning, but deeply asleep. Pulling her jacket tighter around herself, Ash resolves to just tough it out for the night— but someone else who's still awake has another idea.
"Psst," a voice hisses, and Ash sits up and looks toward the owner: Gally. She gives him a confused look, but he beckons her over. She scoots closer, and he lifts his own blanket to silently offer her the space next to him.
"I'm okay—" she mumbles, blushing, but Gally just gives her a look and she caves. Crawling onto the mat with him, she lays back down as he drapes the blanket over her.
"We can make it work like the others are doing," he whispers. "You face that way, I'll face the other way. This doesn't have to... mean anything, you know?"
Ash purses her lips, scratching a small section of her wrist. "I mean... Gally, we're out of the Maze," she responds softly, trying to keep her heartbeat steady. It's been nearly six months since that conversation, and she has no idea if he still feels like that— especially now that he's had a chance to meet other girls.
"Yeah," he breathes, "we are..."
Ash rolls onto her side, facing him, and steels herself to look at his face. He's already on his side, looking at her. His eyes dart all over her face, lingering on her lips before finally meeting her own eyes.
Gally starts to lean in, and Ash is going to let him— but one of the others lets out a fart in their sleep, breaking the moment. Ash purses her lips together as she tries not to laugh, and Gally huffs in his own amusement. He settles for draping his arm over her and pulling her close, instead of trying to kiss her again.
That can wait until morning, now that they're free from the Maze.