Admit Defeat (TMR fic 2)

Chapter 29

It's shocking how quickly the world can change, how strict of a wall there is between the warning winds and the actual storm.

The wind dies out almost instantaneously, leaving an air of apprehension and nothing else. Terror seizes at my limbs, and I start to sprint towards the near city.

The others follow. The sky above us has transformed from grey to pure black, black and rippling and deadly.

The first bolt of lightning falls like a gunshot, the sound deafening. It's like someone tore the sky from top to bottom in one stroke. It thuds into the ground a distance away from us.

There's no sign of rain, but soon enough the lightning bolts are falling one after another, striking wildly.

The boy running with Winston is hit, and both of them are dead without a sound.

Well, as far as I know. I can't hear a thing through the shuddering blows of the lightning.

We run faster.

Another boy is struck, although I can't tell who it is. Newt is limping just behind me, and I hope he can run fast enough to get to safety.

The nearest building is only a short sprint away, and-

A bolt of lightning pierces the ground up ahead, only a few feet from Minho. The boy is thrown to the side, his clothes smoking and body twitching.

Minho.

Thomas, Newt and I run for him at the same time. There's no time to consider, no time to doubt our decision. We quickly smother the flames that had caught on his shirt, and Thomas and Newt quickly pull him upright so they can run with him.

Just a few more feet.

Please be alive, I think desperately, staring at the limp figure between Thomas and Newt.

As we reach the building, my mind glitches for a moment. It's not Thomas and Newt dragging Minho to safety, it's me and Minho trying to save Alby.

The Glade...

"Go!" Clint yells at me as he sprints past, and I realize I've stopped running. I start moving again, following the others into the building's open doorway.

It's dark inside, and silent except for our ragged panting and the earsplitting thunderbolts raining down onto the desert.

"Is he okay?" Thomas asks, and I stumble forward to find them in the blackness. I'm scared of what might be with us, but I'm more worried about Minho.

"He's breathing," Newt answers. "Got pretty burned up, though. Clint, can you come and take a look at him?"

Minho stirs awake after a minute, and I can finally relax. The lightning fades into only occasional bursts, and then is replaced by an entirely different sound.

Rain.

The drops rattle the roof above us, pounding down.

"Fill the water bags," I order, finding my way back to the door. It's a torrent outside, and it won't take too long to gather enough of the water pouring off of the roof to drink our fill.

Once we've finally quenched our thirst and collected some more water in our bags, we try to sleep. The building around us is terrifyingly unknown, but I fall asleep almost instantly from exhaustion. It happens so fast that I almost don't realize I'm dreaming.