Cleo helped Thomas sit up, shifting his gaze over towards where Jorge was standing with her own. They watched the man throw a couple punches into whomever he had tied against the chair before Thomas was up on his feet. Cleo followed after, reaching for his arm as he made the motion to intervene; as much as she hated violence, this wasn't their place to object.
"I suggest you talk." Jorge growled.
The man, Thomas came to realize, was the same man that had made him drink that shitty cocktail entering the party. His face was swollen and bloody indicating that Jorge had been hitting him for a while. And by the looks of his friends that stood on the outskirt of the scene, they had grown almost used to the display of abuse. He quickly shifted his gaze at each one of them, only earning an almost unreadable response from Newt, Teresa, and Cleo.
"I'm sorry," The man released an aspirated chuckle and spit out blood, "You're going to have to leave my house."
The two men were momentarily distracted by Thomas's awakening, the man tied to the chair smirking a bit, "Looks like you've been having fun."
Quickly, Jorge was pulling his attention away, his voice calmer than before, "Listen. I don't enjoy hurting you. Okay?"
The man groaned.
"Where is the Right Arm, Marcus?"
"Wait, this is Marcus?" Thomas blinked, peaking even more interest. His eyes flashed back at his friends, but they had no response. To Thomas's misfortune, Jorge had clued them in on who Marcus was, or more or less, become over the years. They knew who he was before walking in the door.
Another laugh came from the captive, "The kid catches on quick," Through the swollen slits of his eyes, he looked towards the teen to his right, "Are you the brains of the operation?"
The words had barely left his mouth before Jorge grabbed at the short hairs on his head, lifting his eyesight away from Thomas and back on him, "I know you know where they're hiding. So you tell me, and I'll make you a deal. You can come with us."
Marcus chuckled once more, shaking his head, "I burned that bridge a long time ago. Besides, I made my own deal. You're the one who taught me, never miss an opportunity."
"What is he talkin about?" Newt spoke up from the back with no other notion of actually caring except for the quirk in his eyebrow. He exchanged a look with Minho and Cleo beside him, both of which mocked his cross-armed concentrated look.
"I'm talking about supply and demand. Wicked wants all the Immunes they can get. I help provide that for them," The group looked at each other, stiffening some, "So I lure kids in, they get drunk, they have a good time. And then, later, Wicked comes in, they separate the wheat from the chaff."
Another laugh echoed around the room, but this time it was more sinister and goosebumps travelled up Cleo's arms. She moved in closer to her friends, finding Thomas hand almost instinctively. She ignored the urge to cling to him completely, relying on just the indication that he was there, and steeled herself for whatever was going to come next.
Jorge looked over at Brenda, who was still laid out leisurely on the worn-out couch. She stared back briefly before looking away.
"I changed my mind, Hermano." He spoke through gritted teeth, "I do enjoy hurting you."
Before anyone could react, he raised up his leg and with force built on anger, kicked Marcus square in the chest. Without anyway of stopping himself, the restrained man toppled over backwards, letting out a groan of pain. The group watching stiffened when Jorge revealed the gun from underneath his jacket and stepped over to threaten Marcus once more.
"Talk. Talk!"
"Okay! Jesus!" Marcus wiggled about uncomfortably, "But I'm not making any promises. These guys like to move around."
Once it was established that his joking was only going get him killed, Marcus became a bit more serious. Jorge motioned for Thomas to help him and together they sat him back up. Marcus groaned and sucked in a deep breath, the wounds on his face only getting worse it seemed.
After a moment of regaining himself, he continued, "They have an outpost in the mountains. But it's a long way away. You got half of Wicked on your ass. You're never gonna make it."
Jorge grinned, "Not on foot."
Everyone looked at each other, confused.
"Where's Bertha?"
Marcus's chin quivered and he shrunk back a bit, "Not Bertha."
Jorge grinned even wider, turning to the teens behind him satisfied. It was contagious, the mischievous and childish grin he displayed and Cleo couldn't help her own lips turning upward slightly.
Sturdy and in as good of shape as they were, Bertha was glorious in Cleo's opinion. It smelt like old leather, faded and cracked from years of use and sunlight. She didn't even mind how cramped it was in the back, stuffed in the last row with Thomas and Minho. With the windows rolled down and the consistent rhythm of the rocky road beneath them, she found herself falling asleep peacefully for the first time in a long time.
She wasn't sure how long she had napped, but it wasn't long enough. She wouldn't admit just how upset she was that they were forced to go on foot again, but vowed that if there was ever time, she was going to come back for Bertha.
Her blissful moment was cut short by gunshots ripping through the air around them, sending them all scattering to hide behind abandoned vehicles.
"Is everyone okay out there?" Thomas shouted from whether he had managed to duck to.
Teresa, pressed against Cleo's back, was the first to respond, "We're fine!"
With Newt following after, "Anyone know where those bloody shots came from!"
They looked to the surrounding bluffs, finding nothing of any kind of danger. Jumping when more bullets ricocheted off the car Thomas's head had just appeared behind.
After another silent few seconds, Jorge shouted out instructions, "Everyone! Get set to sprint back to the truck! And hold your ears!"
Confused, and a little terrified, the girls shot glances at one another and reached up to cover their ears. Whatever Jorge had planned was completely foiled, however, when two girls appeared with threateningly long guns.
"I said drop it!" One of the girls shouted out, "On your feet. Let's go."
Both men stood up, hands raised defenseless as the guns pushed them back towards the others.
"You two, over here now!" Minho and Newt were instructed to stand as well, mimicking the others stance.
They were pushed back even further, moving to the last remaining five before the mood shifted.
"Aris?" The girl's voice was softer than before, less demanding and threatening.
Cleo dared to take her eyes of them, along with the others, to shoot a look back at the younger boy. He seemed terrified at first, which was understandable, but it didn't last long. A small smile of relief broke out on his features.
"Oh my God. Harriet?" He pushed through Teresa and Cleo to throw his arms around the girl- Harriet and hugged her tightly.
"What the hell are you doing here?" She asked, burying her face in the crock of his neck.
"Aris, you're lucky we didn't shoot your dumb ass." The other girl, a red head, moved in next, hugging him just as tightly as the first had.
Confused as she was, Cleo decided not to break up the reunion. Regardless of who they were, they were still outnumbered in artillery. Minho, clearly hadn't had the same idea.
"What's happening?"
"We were in the Maze together," Aris explained almost too breathlessly.
Harriet let out a sharp whistle, shouting into the canyon around them, "We're clear, guys! Come on out!"
And they watched as numerous, small silhouettes appear from the very crevices their eyes had been searching just a few moments prior. Things moved fast after that. Men appeared from all around them, ducking out of cars and coming to surround the group.
"Wait, how did you guys get here?" Aris asked, sticking close to his reunited friends. The others, though lagging behind some, kept their ears and eyes alert.
"The Right Arm got us out." Harriet replied.
Things moved quickly then. Talk of the Red Arm put the group in motion, and before she could grasp everything, she was being loaded into the back of a large black vehicle with her friends and new found allies.
This trip didn't last as long and Cleo didn't enjoy this jeep as much as she had Bertha, so she busied herself with twiddling her thumbs and gnawing at the inside of her cheek. Road turned into rough terrain and then moments later, they were being let back out and led to a small campsite. Base, as Harriet had called it.
"They've been planning this for over a year now," Sonya, the red head, explained, "This is all for us."
"You guys are lucky you found us when you did. We're moving out at first light," Harriet added, before turning to a person nearby, "Where's Vince?"
"Somewhere over there, I think." They responded, returning to their work.
Cleo matched the two girls pace, anxiety running wild, "Who's Vince?"
"He's the one who decides if you get to stay." Harriet grinned in response.
Thomas came up beside Cleo then, his own anxiety and mind trying to process everyone at once, "I thought the Right Arm was supposed to be an army?"
A man appeared in front of them, long sandy brown hair and a thick beard and mustache. He looked older than he probably was, years of fighting and running had taken its toll on him. But he held his shoulders straight and carried himself confidently.
"Yeah, we were. This is all that's left of us. Lot of good people died getting us this far," He turned to the two girls, "Who are they?"
"They're Immunes. Caught 'em coming up the mountain."
"Did you check 'em?" His voice was gruff, deep and worn.
Harriet jutted a thumb towards Aris, "I know this guy, Aris. I trust him."
Vince ran his tongue over his teeth, examining them briefly, "Well, I don't. Check 'em."
Once again, sorry about it being late! Thanks everyone for reading and I hope you enjoy! Xx