Admit Defeat (TMR fic 2)

Chapter 38

We find a small room after a few minutes of walking that will work to hide us. The doorway used to be bricked up, and only a small section of the bricks has broken down. That means we have bricks to use as weapons, and we make sure to gather them all inside the room. The other advantage of the small opening is that Cranks can only attack one at a time, and we can defend it easier if we get found.

"This looks really fun," Minho says as Jorge shines his light around the crumbling room with random garbage and broken objects in the back. "It's like a sleepover. But in deathville. With murderous crazy people outside. And nothing comfortable. And we really shouldn't sleep. Not to mention we're all going to get sick with the Flare and eat each other eventually. But hey. A sleepover."

My eye catches on something in the pile of junk, and I approach it, hope blinking awake in my chest. It's a gas tank.

I grab it, and it's heavy. Full.

My heart is pounding, and I'm starting to get really excited. There's gas. Once I drag the five-gallon tank out, I can see two others. One is full, the other only partially filled.

"Is there a gas station near this section of the city, do you think?" I ask, glancing up at Jorge.

He shines the light on my find and grunts. "Must be. I don't think we can use that down here, though. Even if we had matches, the light of a fire would just attract more Cranks."

I still have a box full of matches in my pocket from the Glade, but I don't mention them.

"I'm taking these when we leave," I say.

"Good luck carrying three jugs of it," Minho says.

"We're going to help her," Newt says, his voice not allowing any disagreement. "But for now we should turn off the flashlight and lie low by the entrance until the Cranks stop looking for us."

"Good that," I say, and Jorge clicks off the light.

I sit pressed against Newt as we wait in the darkness. He's holding my hand, trying to keep me from panicking.

"This isn't quite how I pictured our day to go," he whispers against my ear. "Granted, it's not easy to go on cute dates in a city like this, but waiting for Cranks to possibly kill us has to be a record low for romantic outings."

I cover my mouth to stifle a laugh. Why had I pushed him away so much? This situation would be so much harder without him beside me.

Is it worth being lonely to be out of WICKED's control? And would it really be freedom, anyway?

I wish there was something I could do to distract myself, but we're all just waiting. My mind circles back again and again, like an injury I can't leave alone. Is Newt right? Is agreeing to fall for him worth the danger?

My fingers stroke over the handle of one of the cans of gas. What can I do with it? There's too much fire potential for me to consider leaving them behind. But what would I use the gas for?

A Crank breathes raspily as it wanders nearby. We all tense up, waiting for it to pass us.

"Rose," it mutters, again and again. "Rose is gone. Gone and gone. Rose."

I lean my head onto Newt's shoulder, my heart pounding at a frantic pace. I hate this town. I want to burn them all. I want to purge the earth of these slowly-dying creatures. WICKED has a cure, but not for everyone. Kill them off, don't let them suffer in a death like this.

It's not my choice, though.

Unless... the Gladers need to get to the mountains. That's what WICKED expects us to do. They have plans for us to run north. But what if we broke their designs? What if one of us split off from the obvious path?

What if I don't go?

What if I stay behind, and soak the world in fire?

Maybe that would help WICKED see what we are.

Not experiments.

Not lab rats.

People.

Monsters.

Trained to survive, trained to kill.