Meraya wiped her bloody knife off on her pants and used it to cut a strip from her shirt. After dousing it in water, she wrapped it around her calf, hissing at the feeling of the fabric on her open wound. She sheathed the knife into it's holster and looked towards the city. There was no way she could sleep after what she just went through so her only option was to push on. The sun was now setting and, for just a few hours, Meraya was saved from the desperate heat of the desert.
The gladers stared at the same wall that the rat man had sat only a day before. At exactly six in the morning the wall shifted from its dull white paint to a shimmering gray substance. The gladers traded looks as Minho stepped forward. Being labeled leader, he took the first steps, Thomas and Newt left to bring in the rear and make sure everyone came in.
Thomas watched as, one by one, the gladers disappeared through the shimmering grey. In just a few minutes only Newt, Aris and Thomas were left. Newt stepped through with a weak smile. Thomas knew what he was thinking, would they find their missing friends out there in the Scorch. Thomas prayed they would. Aris glanced back at Thomas, chewing his lower lip. We'll find them. Thomas' eyes widened as Aris stepped through the portal, his voice fading from Thomas' mind. There was no way. There couldn't be more like him and the girls could they? Thomas didn't have time to contemplate it as he stepped through the portal, bumping into a body almost as soon as he did.
"Everyone in?" Minho's voice called back. Thomas answered in the affirmative and the group began to move. Thankfully, they were all in pretty good shape. There were some straglers as always but that was to be expected. Thomas moved through the crowd, easily finding his way towards the front by his friends. The jog was silent, in complete darkness. Even after his eyes adjusted, Thomas could still barely see a few inches in front of him. Nothing was heard other than the gladers heavy breathing and the sound of their shoes slapping concrete. Thomas let his mind go blank as he moved through the corridor, it was easier that way. It hurt too much to think about Teresa or Meraya. He couldn't help but think of the name he'd seen outside of the room, The Betrayer. It didn't specify which girl it was, but Thomas couldn't fathom it being either one. It just couldn't. It had to be another one of WICKED's lies.
A soft whisper caught Thomas' attention, dragging him out of his inner turmoil. The gladers seemed to have heard it as well, as they all began to gradually slow. Go back. The soft whisper was more distinct now. Thomas could tell that it was an older man's voice. He sounded raspy and withered, like he hadn't spoken in years. Go back now and you may live. Thomas swallowed nervously as the gladers shuffled their feet. Go back... The voice trailed off into the darkness. An awkward silence hanging inside the tunnel. "Anyone want to head back?" Minho asked only to be met with silence. "Alright then." The gladers didn't need anymore convincing as they, once again, picked up their pace and jogged through the darkness of the tunnel.
They had been running for about an hour. Thomas could feel the sweat drip down his face, making his clothes stick uncomfortably to his body. His throat burned with the need to drink water but he didn't stop. That's when it happened. A scream tore out of the darkness. It was one of the galders. Chaos broke out as everyone surged forward, sprinting. Thomas, heart racing with fear for what felt like the thousandth time since waking inside the glade, Thomas pushed through the fleeing boys towards the screams. Unable to see what was going on, he reached out. He felt the boy screaming and writhing beneath his hands, before he collapsed to the ground. Thomas heard a metal clunk and the screams stopped. The sound of metal rolling against stone faded within seconds as Thomas reached forwards. When he went for the head, horror struck him. His hands felt nothing. There was nothing there. "What happened?" Newt's voice echoed in the silence. Thomas swallowed as his throat had gone dry at his revelation. "His head," he rasped, "his head is gone." Thomas looked up to where he knew the gladers were huddled together. "Let's move." Minho's voice sounded, although this time, it was laced with a somberness that was so unlike him. Thomas nodded and stood, joining the other boys. As they picked up their run once again, Thomas glanced over his shoulder at the body. He felt so sorry for the boy, but realized, he didn't know many of the boys he was now fleeing with. He knew nearly none of them.
Newt was in the middle of the gladers. It was hard for him to run on account of his injury. Shame filled him as he thought back to the day. He was ashamed that he had failed, but he shook the thought from his mind. He couldn't be filled with self pity now. Not when his best friend was somewhere out in this god forsaken land without anyone. Newt prayed silently that Meraya was alive and safe. His stomach dropped as the rat man's words rang in his mind. "The Flare," a disease that destroyed the mind. Knowing she was out there with those people, and vulnerable to this sickness drove him mad. He wanted nothing more than to wrap her up and protect her. THat's all he ever wanted, was to keep her safe and he'd failed.
Newt stumbled in his steps as the weight of their situation toppled over his shoulders. Meraya was out in the Scorch without any idea of what was out there, possibly with no food or water. He, along with the gladers, had just been sent on a mission to find some safe haven out in the middle of a crank invested desert with nothing more than a few sacks of vegetables and a couple bottles of water. They weren't even given a compass to find north. He knew there would be obstacles, it was WICKED after all. Nothing was ever as easy at it was made to seem. Newt swallowed, knowing that they all wouldn't make it through this round. It was a test and there had to be those that failed, and that terrified him to no end.