They had made it to the end of the tunnel. There were stairs leading upwards and no glader hesitated in their ascent. They slowed as Minho and Newt paused at the top. Minho lifted his hand, finding scorching metal above him. Bracing both hands on the hot door, Minho used all of his strength to hoist the door open. The gladers groaned, eyes forced to adjust to the harsh light too quickly. Thomas looked away, squeezing his eyes shut. An unbearable heat ebbed through the tunnel and Minho shut the door with a heavy thud. He panted softly with the effort it took to hold it open. A few gladers stepped forward and with a grunt, they hoisted the door wide open, this time the light wasn't so painful on their eyes. As they waited to adjust to the new hot climate and blazing sun, the gladers opened their sacks, ate and drank.
"What's that?" a boy Thomas was sure he had never even met asked. To their right, a liquid metal drop dripped from somewhere on the ceiling. The gladers watched in silence as it hung in the air, slowly detaching itself from the ceiling. It floated through the air, forming to a ball before shooting off. It's unfortunate victim, the Keeper of the Slicers, Winston. At first, he was silent, shocked by the molten metal ball that had attached itself to the top of his head, then, the screaming started. Always the hero, Thomas ran forward as Winston, fighting to keep this blob from sliding over his eyes, tumbled down the stairs. Thomas was able to catch him, screaming at the other gladers to do something. Thomas fought with Winston, trying to keep this thing from the boy's eyes. His screams were so full of terror they ripped at Thomas' heart. "Lift with me Winston!" Thomas yelled over the boys screaming. "One!...Two!...Three!" together, Winston and Thomas lifted at the same time and were able to slide the ball from the boys head, sending it skittering down the hall from where they had come. Thomas turned to Winston, and bile rose in his throat. The boys scalp was badly burned. Tufts of hair stuck out here and there between his bloody scalp. He whimpered and shook as the few med jacks who had survived the glade took over.
The gladers stood outside of the exit of the tunnel, staring out around them. There was nothing but sand. Winston was propped between two med jacks, moaning every now and then. Minho pointed due north. There was a city perhaps fifty or sixty yards ahead. Some wondered if that was the safe haven but Thomas doubted it. It, for starters, looked decayed and broken, nothing like what Rat Man had promised, and secondly, it was nowhere near the hundred yard travel distance Rat Man had told them to go with only a week to do so.
Without much choice, the gladers started off. They jogged forward, heading out into the Scorch. Thomas' mind drifted to Meraya, how angry she had been at him. It hurt to see her face when Minho had carried her around the corner. He didn't want to kiss Teresa, she just sort of did it. Thomas sighed, he missed her. He thought back to their kiss in the glade, how her lips felt against his. They were so soft, just the thought of it made his lips tingle with the memory of the sensation. It was hurried and slightly feverish but so honest and pure at the same time. It felt so natural and Thomas felt the urge to do it again. He promised himself to never let her get away from him again. Just when she had forgiven him, they took her, and for that Thomas would destroy WICKED.
Night came all too quickly on their first day. They ran for an hour or two past sunset before Minho called it quits for the night. The food was laid out and eaten to replenish their energy for the next day. Thomas used his now empty sheet to cover himself. He found it easy to fall asleep, staring up at the stars in the dark night sky.
Thomas was nudged awake by Newt's foot. The boy offered his hand, to which Thomas gratefully took and they set off once more. They two were quietly jogging for a while before Newt broke the silence. "You think she's okay?" He whispered. Thomas glanced at his friend, noting the dark circles and worry lines creasing his face. "Course she is. She's strong." Thomas said so sure of himself. Although he had the same worries, he knew Meraya would survive. She never went down without a fight. In their short time together, Thomas had learned that much about her at least.
The gladers ran for hours before they took their first break. With each step they took they got closer and closer to the city; with each step they got closer and closer to finding Meraya and Teresa, and with each step Thomas and Newt worried a little less. He could feel it. Newt could feel that Meraya was there waiting for them. It was just this strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he knew that she was safe there.
Meraya sat in the bed she had woken up in just the day prior. Jorge had ordered Brenda to take care of her, something Meraya knew she did begrudgingly. On a few occasions she had tried to talk to the other girl, only receiving grunts in reply or a rolling of the eyes. After a few tries, Meraya just decided to stick with thank you's when Brenda changed a bandage or gave her food. Despite her harsh attitude, Brenda was gentle with her so Meraya could only dislike her so much.
Right now, Meraya sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in a pair of cargo shorts, a cut off shirt and a jean vest. Thick, black combat boots were tied around her feet, grey socks sticking out of the tops, stopping halfway up her calves, hiding most of the bandage that covered from her ankle to her knee. Meraya's curly hair was tied up in a messy bun on top of her head. She stared down at the floor, wondering about what her friends were doing. She prayed they weren't out here in the Scorch, Jorge had filled her in on what had happened to the world. Meraya was horrified to learn about the Flare. Jorge had told her all about the city, how it was basically a dumping ground for the cranks to go insane and die in. It was disgusting that this is what WICKED and other world leaders allowed to happen to the world. You couldn't even die with dignity any longer. You just turned into a monster, went insane, and starved to death out here.
Meraya heaved a sigh, hoisting herself up. She bit back a moan of pain, clenching her jaw tightly. She shifted her weight into her uninjured leg, taking deep breaths to distract her mind from the pain. It had gone down since the initial bite. Thankfully Brenda kept it from getting infected and cleaned it out properly. Now she just had to let it heal but sitting up here in what Meraya could only assume was a makeshift bedroom, wasn't what she wanted to do. She need to distract herself with things to do or else drive herself insane with worry.
Sorry for the delay on posting. School has been hectic and I finally got a chance to just sit and write. Hope you like it and as always, reviews welcome and appreciated!