The sun wakes us a few hours later. The warmth is already blazing, even though it's only half risen, and we pull out our sheets to block the rays. Most of our food is gone, so almost everyone has a sheet to themselves.
Our water is pretty much gone, too. I'm achingly thirsty as soon as we begin walking, to my frustration.
We don't have a choice, though. We have to reach the city, supplies or not. Hopefully there will be water and food there as well. The Gladers rarely speak, partially because the heat causes tempers to flare and arguments to spark up.
We're exhausted and hungry and parched.
We walk.
We jog.
We walk.
Hours pass.
I count footsteps just to focus on something else.
Thirty-two.
We walk.
One hundred and eighty-four.
Push onwards.
Seven hundred and three.
Don't look back.
One thousand and fifty-eight.
We are Gladers.
One thousand, six hundred, and twenty.
We are Runners.
We walk as the world turns, as the sun burns down on us.
And I feed my every step with whispers of WICKED, soft promises of the revenge I will someday take.
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Admit Defeat (TMR fic 2)
FanfictionThe more Ash remembers, the more she pushes people away. Having friends is dangerous. Being close to Newt? Unfathomably risky. She has to choose between those she cares about, or staying safe from WICKED's manipulation. As We Watch the World Burn b...
