A/N: I have been updating recently and i will try to continue, but it will most likely not be as frequently as mid-terms are starting soon. Today is my last day of winter break and school might slow me down as it's been doing. But I really do want to continue and it means a lot to see that people are still reading this.

Now, I've also gotten some reviews which have been asking for more Newt/MaC interaction. I will try to squeeze some more in! But, if i'm updating too slow... I have a new one-shot of them up. It's called 'What if...'. Check it out if you're interested.

Read & Review!

~MAX

I stared. The others did as well, stopping in their tracks as if there had been some sort of unspoken command. I felt a sudden apprehension take hold of me. Which, was stupid, really, we outnumbered them ten-to-one, but still it was there. The feeling undeniable.

"Everyone pack in tighter," Minho said. "And get ready to fight these shanks the first sign of trouble."

The shimmering blur of upward-heat blurred the figures until they were about a hundred yards out. My muscles tensed as they neared. I shifted my weight between my feet, trying to loosen up. I hadn't seen the cranks reaching through the barred windows. I hadn't been there. But I did remember those people attacking the bus, clinging onto the sides, yelling and screaming and shouting nonsense I could hear over the rain. I remember the fear that had gripped me then and this was different somehow.

They stopped a dozen feet or so in front of us. One was a man, the other, a woman, though her slightly curvy figure was only just distinguishable underneath their tattered rags that consisted of a filthy hodgepodge of clothing sewn together and in some places tied with strips of denim. Their entire bodies were covered, leaving nothing exposed to the beating sun. Their heads and faces covered completely in wrappings and tattered beige cloths. Small ragged cuts existed for them to see and breathe through. The only skin uncovered were their hands. And those were red, cracked and scabby.

The pair stood, panting and catching their breath.

"Who are you?" Minho called out.

They didn't respond. Didn't even move. Their chests heaved with each ragged breath. How on god-not-so-green earth did they run that far and not die of heat exhaustion?

"Who are you?" Minho repeated himself.

Again, they did not answer. The two strangers spilt, walking in a wide circle around our clustered group. Their eyes were impossible to see under their mummy wrappings, though I imagined them to be locked on us, examining each one. Sixing us up, as if for the kill. At least that how it seemed as they walked slowly. I turned when I could no longer see the both of them. They stopped at the back of the group. Once again, standing still.

"There are a whole lot more of us then there are of you," Minho said, frustration seeping into his voice. Threatening them so soon, seemed a bit desperate, but in all honesty… we are desperate. "Start talking. Tell us who you are."

"We're Cranks."

What?

It had been the woman that spoke, annoyance all too clear in her voice. For no apparent reason she pointed back across the Gladers towards the town they'd run from.

"Cranks?" Minho pushed his way through the crowd so he could stand closest to the pair of strangers. "Just like the ones that tried to break into our building a couple days ago?"

I cringed, they'd have absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Somehow, someway, we were a long way away from where we'd been when we went through that Flat Trans… thing.

"We're Cranks," The man said. His voice was lighter, less gruff than the woman's had been. Softer, almost… but it lacked kindness. He pointed over us just as the woman had. "Came to see if you're Cranks. Came to see if you have the Flare."

Minho turned back to look at Thomas, Newt and I, as well as a few others. His eyebrows were raised in question. No one said anything, so he turned back. "Some dude told us we had the Flare, yeah. What can you tell us about it?"

"Don't matter," The man said, the fabric around his mouth moving with every word. "You got it, you'll know soon enough."

"Well," Newt said stepping up beside Minho. "What's it matter to you if we're Cranks or not?"

The woman spoke this time, acting as if the question had never been asked. "How'd you get in the Scorch? Where'd you come from? How'd you get here?"

Intelligence was evident in her words… the cranks we'd seen before had been, well, insane, animalistic in nature. These people were aware, intelligent enough to realize we'd come from what was basically nowhere. Nothing lay opposite the town.

Minho leaned over to consult with Newt before, motioning for me to move up.

"What do we tell these people?"

I shrugged. "There's nothing opposite the town. We literally came out of nowhere."

"Thomas?" He asked.

Tommy didn't seem to have an ideas either. "I don't know. The truth? It can't hurt."

"The truth?" Minho said sarcastically. "What an idea, Thomas. You're freaking brilliant, as usual." He faced the Cranks once again. "We were sent here by WICKED. Came out of a little hole just a while back that way, from a tunnel. We're supposed to go one hundred miles to the north, cross the Scorch. Any of that mean a thing to you?"

Again, It was as if they hadn't heard him.

"Not all Cranks are gone," the man said. Was that supposed to mean something? "Not all of them are past the Gone." He said the last word as if it were a place, a checkpoint or something. "Different ones at different levels. Best you learn who to make friends with and who to avoid. Or kill. Better learn right quick if you're coming our way."

What?

"What's your way?" Minho asked. "You came from that town, right? Is that where all these Cranks live? Is there food and water there?"

I wanted to ask millions of questions, just as Minho wanted to, but at the moment, the pair didn't seem keen of helping at all. They were just… here. They split as they had before, circling back around towards the Gladers closest to the town.

They met up in the spot they'd first arrived, the town in the distance between them. "If you don't have it yet, you'll have it soon. Same with the other group. The ones that're supposed to kill you."

"Huh?" I mumbled quietly.

The two strangers turned on their heel and ran back towards the town on the horizon, leaving us all in stunned silence. That had been an extremely unhelpful conversation. More questions and no bloody answers to think of.

"Other group?" someone said. I think it was Frypan, wasn't sure though. I was just snapping out of my trance like state in which I worried about everything we had no control over.

"Wonder if they're talking about my group?" That had definitely been Aris.

"Group B?" Thomas asked him a bit louder that was necessary if he had meant to talk only to Aris. "You think they've already made it to the town?"

"Hello!" Minho snapped, drawing my attention. "Who cares? You'd think the little part about them supposedly killing us would be the attention getter. Maybe the stuff about the Flare?" He had a point.

"Maybe when she said 'you' she didn't mean all of us," Tommy said, no seeming to make any sense until he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the tattoo on the back of his neck. The one that had all but told him he was going to die. "Maybe she meant me specifically. Couldn't tell where her eyes were looking."

"How's she supposed to know who you are?" I pointed out.

"Doesn't matter," Minho said. "If someone tries to kill you, or me, or anyone else, they might as well try to get all of us. Right?"

Right… I think… yeah. Yeah, decision made. No one's killing my boys without going through me first.

"You're so sweet," Frypan snorted. "Go ahead and die with Thomas. I think I'll sneak away and enjoy a nice living with the guilt." He cast a look to Thomas that showed he was only joking, but I couldn't help but wonder just how much truth there was in that little statement.

"Well, what do we do now?" Jack asked. He was standing closer to Newt with Winston's arm around one of his shoulders, but the former keeper seemed to have recovered some of his strength. He could stand on his own, Jack there mostly for support. The sheet covered most of the poor boy's disfigured face.

"What do you think?" Newt asked, but nodded at Minho to take over.

Minho rolled his eyes in response, which made me smile at least. "We keep going, that's what. Look, we don't have a choice. If we don't go to that town, we're gonna die out here of sunstroke or starvation. If we do go, we'll have some shelter for a while, maybe even food. Cranks or not Cranks, that's where we're going."

"And Group B?" Tommy asked, looking over to our newest addition. "Or whoever they were talking about. What if they really do want to kill us? All we have to fight with are our hands."

Good point Tommy.

"If these people really are the girl's Aris was hanging out with, I'll show 'em these guns of mine and they'll go runnin."

I may have snorted rather loudly at that. May have. And may or may not have receiver and amused look from Newt as I did so. Minho shot me a glare to which I smiled, refraining from teasing him in front of the group.

"And if these girls have weapons?" Thomas pushed. "Or can fight? Or if it's not them at all but a bunch of seven-foot-tall grunts who like to eat humans? Or a thousand Cranks?"

I sighed, this was getting us nowhere. "Tommy-"

"No, everybody," Minho began, looking like he was thinking much along the same lines I was as he let out an exasperated sigh. "Would everyone just shut their holes and slim it? No more questions. Unless you have an idea that doesn't involve absolute certain death, then quit your pipin' and let's take the only chance we got. Get it?"

I nodded my approval. We knew what we had to do. We just had to do it. Move. Go. That was it. Simple, really.

"That's better," Minho a very slight, slight upturn to the corner of his lips that I noticed as he nodded in satisfaction. "Anybody else wanna pee there pants and cry for Mommy?" And there was the Minho I knew and loved.

A few snickers, but no one said anything. I only smiled, shaking my head slightly in amusement.

"Good. Newt, you lead up the front this time, limp and all. You too, MaC. Thomas, you in the back. Jack, get someone else to help with Winston to give you a break. Let's go."

And so, well, we did. I too the pack from Newt (forcefully, and with a stern glance). I suddenly felt weighed down, stuck on the earth, it was really heavy actually, not that I'd ever admit that aloud. If only to avoid seeing Newt smirk smugly with a look that clearly expressed 'I told you so'. Really, I think it'd bother me left if he just said it and got it over with.

And as if that wasn't enough, my arm was getting tired of holding that sheet up. My arm felt weak, rubbery… not right. But we went on. Sometimes walking, sometime jogging. But always moving.

Thankfully, the sun all the sudden got bit heavier, dropping more quickly towards the horizon line. According to my wristwatch, it had only been an hour since the Cranks had left when the sky began turning a sort of purplish color, orange painted in as well and intense glare of the sun that I had previously been cursing faded away into a pleasant sort of glow. And not too long after that… it disappeared completely, falling below the horizon altogether, the nighttime stars pulling up into the sky.

And this time, they were real.