Admit Defeat (TMR fic 2)

Chapter 46

The full cans of gas are heavy in my hands as I pull them into the open, and I frown at them. Where is it best to set them?

A light breeze scurries across me, and I look into the wind. Upwind. Upwind, and... in order. I'll need a full can at the south end of the city, because I'll be starting there. Then another full can almost halfway to the north edge, and the mostly empty one north of that.

Grabbing the first can, I climb down from the roof and start running south, into the wind. There are Cranks nearby, but I couldn't care less. I have a job to do. Rescue Thomas. Send them away. Do what I was meant to do.

My arms are tired by the time I've set the first can in a corner where it hopefully won't be messed with. I jog back to the others, the sinking sun a reminder that I don't have endless amounts of time.

I don't have to go as far with the second, but I still have to rest a couple of times.

"Stupid running, doesn't help with arms," I mumble in irritation.

One last one. It doesn't take as long, even though I'm running further, and I cut through the city to where the others are in only a few minutes after setting the emptiest can.

"What's the plan?" I ask, jogging up to the others.

"We storm the place and find them," Minho answers, tossing me a sturdy piece of wood pulled from one of the nearby houses.

"But you," Newt says, his voice strict, "are going to keep watch outside."

"What?" I yelp.

He meets my eyes, showing me just how frustrated he is that I ran off on my own. "You weren't here to choose otherwise."

"We need a guard anyway, mujer," Jorge says, ruffling my short hair.

I clench my jaw and change the topic. "When are we going?"

"Just a bit later, as the sun is setting. That way we can run right before it gets dark."

I don't say anything else, just sit in the shade of a building and wait, turning my piece of wood over in my hands again and again.

The area Jorge leads us to is different from the rest of the city. I'm not sure exactly what it is at first, but then I realize I can hear distant music and laughter.

The sounds of merriment clash horribly with the situation, and I shudder.

"This building," Jorge says in a low voice, motioning subtly at a run-down house. "In the basement."

"Well," Minho says, "let's go get him back."

I stand in the street and wait as they charge in, Cranks yelping with pain from the house up ahead. After having charged Grievers, a few drunk Cranks are nothing frightening. Still, they can be dangerous, so I grip my piece of wood tighter as a few stumble from the building, scurrying like rats to their hole.

"Get on the floor! Hands on your head!" Minho is yelling from inside. I wish I could be with them, be useful.

Instead, I'm stuck out here, waiting and watching the escaping Cranks run.

"We have them," Newt says, the first Glader to emerge. His face is grim but victorious, and he's almost smiling. "Thomas and Brenda. They're alright."

I release a breath I had subconsciously been holding, and I run to him. I'm dying anyway. I have a right, an excuse. I hug him tightly, clinging to him for just a second too long, my affection a breath too agonizing.

"Ash?" Shuck, he noticed.

"I'm glad," I say, trying to smile despite the weight in my chest. "I'm glad they're okay."

He frowns at me, as if trying to figure out what it is that I'm not saying. The other Gladers are piling out, and I see Thomas.

I'm focused on distracting Newt from my strange actions, so I begin to walk towards Thomas.

A gun fires in the twilight.

I scream.