I stuck by Minho as we snuck our way around skipping from shadow to shadow, always in the darkness and never in open space. It wasn't exactly fun as he seemed to become even more of a sarcastic slinthead with Jorge in charge and wasn't the least bit happy, especially with Tommy who knows where. But he was no idiot, actually the shank was one of the smartest people I knew which was insanely frustrating at times as he could be a complete piece of klunk at times.

But, I suppose I could too. Maybe that's why he put up with me. Heaven only knows why Newt loves me.

Those sort of thoughts were a bit distracting as every time I thought of him I started searching for his blonde hair amongst the others and found him up front with Jorge navigating our way around the city and had to resist the urge to run up there with him.

The sun was beating down on us, burning what I was sure was my last layer of skin. Minho didn't seem to be getting near the amount of sunburn I was. Shuck his olive skin-tone, I was frying over here! He noticed too, though he looked somewhere between amusement and genuine concern. "Are you okay?" He asked, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant.

"Fine," I ground out between clenched teeth.

He seemed to get the message, patting me on the shoulder before heading up to talk to Newt, who was the next to look back at me. He too, was looking a bit sunburnt, though not nearly as bad I was sure I was.

Turning the corner Jorge and Newt seemed to debate over something, bringing the group to a halt. A few boys from the Glade looking to me as if we knew what to do. As if I knew!

Soon enough we were turning into an alley way and moving into a sort of boarded up building that if we navigated correctly would let us out closer to where we wanted to be. Jorge also said there was a sizable stash of food hidden somewhere in the building. Why they decided to hide the cache in a dirty old building that looked like it may collapse, I couldn't tell you. Though I suppose it made sense to have hidden stashes throughout the city. Their little band of misfits didn't look especially reliable. I was debating whether I was more afraid of burning off the remaining layers of skin or having a building collapse on me when the sounds began.

Weird, high pitched laughing sounds. When the others froze I raced to Newt's side, my shoulder brushing his. "What is that?" I asked quietly.

"Cranks," He said as if that answered everything.

"Newt…"

And then the insane laughter began, cackling like the witches in the fairy-tales I don't ever remember reading. Startled, I grabbed his hand, squeezing. He gripped back, holding my hand as our collective unit and moving hesitantly through the maze of a building.

"Ring around the Rosie," the voice laughed. That was when I realized there was a distinctly feminine tone to the voice. "Pockets full of Posies." Another cackle of laughter, "Ashes!" The voice screeched, the sounds echoing around the building until we had no idea which direction she was coming from. "Ashes!" She screeched again. "We all," she broke off into unexplainable giggles. "Fall…"

"Down!"

A hand suddenly grabbed me through the hole in the wall by which Newt and I stood. I screamed in surprise and fear, spinning around and knocking her hand away as I did.

"Rosy?" she questioned again, her iced blue crazed eyes the only thing I could see in the darkness were glued onto me as I back away, Newt still holding my hand. "Rosy!"

"Ring around the Rosie…" echoed another voice this one male. More cranks?

"This way," Minho shouted, motioning towards a doorway, Jorge ducked through it and the other had no qualms about following. "Move!"

"ROSIE!" the woman cried as Newt and I took off for the door.

"Pockets full of Posies…" They were still going.

"We need to get out of here," somebody said.

"No really?" someone else replied sarcastically.

"Shut your holes," Newt hissed angrily, still gripping my hand. I found I was grateful for the small comfort.

"Keep your eyes peeled," Jorge warned, "If we can get out of here, we'll be real close to the other side of town. But that's only if we survive."

"Ashes… Ashes… We all fall down!" There was a tremble in the flooring. Had they actually collapsed?

"Where's Rosie?" It was the female again. Newt's grip on me tightened.

"Where's little Rosie?" a male voice.

"RING AROUND THE ROSIE!" a male voice shouted, laughing manically.

"There!" a Glader to the right shouted pointing down the hall he faced. "They're down there!"

"How many do ya think?" Another asked, it sounded like Milo.

"Dunno? Three? Ten? Can't tell," the boy said in response.

"Pockets full of posies."

"Ring around the Rosie."

"Ashes… Ashes…"

"Pockets full of Posies."

"We all…"

"Ring around…"

"Ashes…"

"Pockets…

"Fall… Down…"

They were all singing all at different points in the song, it was messing with my head.

Giggling could be heard echoing through the mess of hallways in which we sat, growing louder and louder as the source grew near. "Where's Rosie?"

"Little miss muffet," another voice began, this one deeper, belonging to a man. "Sat on her tuffet-"

"What's with the nursery rhymes?" Minho muttered, just loud enough that I could here. It was almost enough to make me laugh. Almost…You know, if crazy lady numero uno hadn't freaked me out so much.

"-eating her curds and wa-"

"Shut up!" somebody whined. "I don't like spiders…" the voice squeaked.

"Ooooooohhhh, Rosie! Ring around the Rosie!"

I sort of pressed myself against Newt's side. Grievers were one thing. I could deal with those. I did deal with those… but these people were completely unhinged and it set me on edge. What were you supposed to expect from people like that? People so sick that their brains malfunctioned and they started… doing whatever it was that these Cranks did.

"Get ready," Minho ground out, "I don't think we're getting out of here without a fight."

"They'll probably have weapons," Jorge added, "Get a hold of one if you can. They won't hesitate to use it on you."

"Fun," I muttered still holding onto Newt.

He gripped my hand tighter, attempting to push me behind him. I knew what he was getting at. He wanted me safe. But I've never been safe. Neither of us has and so I gently pushed him to the side so we stood next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, not one behind the other.

And then they were on us… sort of.

"Lookie!" the small one with the whiny voice screeched. He was unmistakably young, not even close to our age, but tall. Young, or looked to be before the Flare. His face was bloodied and dirty, a long scab trailing from the top of his head to his chin, right over his left eye. His brown hair was long and matted, sticking to his face. His skin was burn and covered in sores, and his hand was bent at a strange angle, as if it'd been broken and not properly set. "People!"

"Friends?" questioned another voice, young, but definitely feminine. And then she too stepped out from the shadows. She couldn't be over seven years old, but her face was bruised and swollen, and her stringy blonde hair was mattered with blood. Her eyes were dark, blank, dead looking. "Will you play with me?"

"Nope!" Another voice cut in, sounding happy, much too happy. He was a tall man, but obviously malnourished, just as the others. "Nope!" He said again breaking out into a fit of giggles. "Time to eat! Meal time! Fresh meat!" He laughed walking closer and taking a deep breath through his nose. "Mmmmmm…"

"We're eating Rosie?" another questioned, the creepy blue eyes of the woman could be seen once more. "We're eating Roise!" She yelled, breaking down into sobs, "Rosie, Rosie… Pockets full or Posies… Ashes, Ashes… We all," sobbing, "Fall," sobbing, "Rosie!"

And then another appeared to the right and somebody knocked something out of its hand.

"Ah-ha!" The little girl yelled in joy, "They play! They play!" she stepped closer, revealing a shiny serrated kitchen knife.

"No friends…" Another commented sadly and silver gleam in the darkness revealed that he too had a weapon. Maybe they all did.

And then there was a scream and the other Cranks were spurred into action, charging us.

The little girl came after me and it was all I could do to dodge the sloppy swings of her arm. Pushing down that weak part of me which cried for her, and felt her pain, and wished there was something I could do, I thought it out. She wasn't herself anymore. Whoever she was she was long past the gone and the only thing that could be done for her at this point was to put her out of her misery. And so I fought back, I blocked her next slash and wrenched the knife from her grasp. Shrieking, she kicked out at me with a gangly leg. I doubled over from the impact, regaining myself in enough time to dodge the hand she scratched at me with. I kicked out with my left leg watching at the girl fell to the ground. Quickly, I pinned her down. Not taking the time to think I grabbed each side of her head and snapped it to the side, attempting to ignore the sickening sounds that followed as a result.

Before I even had time to do anything else, somebody was on my back. Yelping in surprise, I dropped the knife. Cursing at myself, I attempted to wriggle from my captors grasp. "Rosie," she whispered, chapped lips right up against my ear.

"Get off!" I yelled, pulling at the roots of her hair in an attempt to get her to loosen her grip.

Screaming, she did as I had hoped and let go of my head to swat at my arms. Taking the moment of opportunity and flipping her off of me I scrambled towards the knife I'd dropped. She leaped for me the moment I'd gotten my fingers wrapped around the handle. I turned back to her the moment she reached me, whatever color was left draining from her face as her lifeblood dripped out onto me.

She'd impaled herself when she'd lunged for me.

Horrified, I yanked the knife out of her and scrambled away. My hand was hot and sticky, soaked in her blood. It had dripped onto my shirt as well, straining the front of me.

"MaC!"

I didn't respond.

And then he was there, greasy blonde hair and kind bright eyes and him, just him and that would always be enough… His hands ghosted over my face, worriedly checking to see if I was alright. And then he was looking at my shirt, checking to see if it was my blood.

"It's not mine," I choked out, not dropping the knife. "Not mine."

He nodded in understanding, his right hand coming up to brush my hair out of my face. He smiled weakly, his fingers brushing over my cheekbone. "I love you."

It was so utterly out of place in a situation like this. I had just stabbed a woman and snapped some poor disastrously sick kid's neck and I was covered in blood and sweat and who knows what other grim and we both stunk. We hadn't a clue where on God's bloody earth we were and- and-

"Aren't you going to say you love me too?"

I laughed, actually laughed, falling onto his shoulder and wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my face into his shoulder. "I love you too."

I could feel him smile as he pressed his face into my hair and hugged me back. "I know you do."

"Hey love-birds!" Jorge shouted, the two of us jumping away from one another in surprise. "Let's move!"

We got through the rest of the building without a problem, which surprised the hell out of me. But it was a good surprise. We didn't get many of them these days, but I decided they were most definitely welcome to happen again.