little immune {the scorch trials} (request)

˜"*°• 11 •°*"˜

Thomas burst out of the vent in the middle of a WICKED hall, the other Gladers on his tail. He quickly scanned his surroundings to make sure they were all clear before ushering his friends along the way.

"Okay, let's go!" he encouraged.

"You guys go ahead," Aris called. "There's something I gotta do."

Thomas backtracked. "What are you talking about?"

"Trust me," Aris pushed, "it's important. You guys wanna get out of here, right? Just go." 

"I'll go with him," Winston volunteered.

There was no time to argue. The two boys retreated back into the vent without another word.

They couldn't waste any longer standing there. In no time, Thomas was leading them down the hall once again.

"You sure we want to trust this kid?" Minho asked as they ran.

"You don't want to know where we'd be without him," Thomas replied, shuddering at the memory of the strung-up bodies and Janson's cruel intentions. He tried not to get his hopes up, but he couldn't help the feeling of anticipation pumping through his veins. Finally they were getting somewhere, finally they had the chance to be free—

Suddenly, they turned a corner and nearly collided with the stern, dark-skinned doctor who'd been with Teresa earlier.

"Ah!" Thomas exclaimed, unable to help himself. At his side, he felt a small hand take his and squeeze. Y/n. He squeezed back, unsure of whether he was trying to reassure her or himself.

The doctor stared at them suspiciously. "What are you kids doing out?"

At that very moment, orange lights began flashing brightly around the hallway, an alarm blaring noisily over the speakers. 

The doctor's glare hardened as she lunged to arrest the group of kids. But she was largely outnumbered. Minho, Newt, and Y/n shoved her off while Thomas grabbed her arms, securing her tightly in his grasp.

"Where's Teresa?" he snarled.

The doctor sneered. "I'm not helping you. Janson will be here soon. You'll never leave this place."

"Bloody hell, just tell us where the girl is!" Newt snapped.

Thomas dug his fingernails into her arm's for effect, causing the woman to yelp in pain. 

"Fine!" she gasped. "Her private room's on this floor. Southeast wing. I can take you there, but ... it might not be as fast as you hope. This place is a maze."

Thomas gritted his teeth in frustration. "We've dealt with worse mazes. Let's go."

***

The Gladers and Y/n stumbled down the hall with the woman as their hostage, trying to outrun any other WICKED staff who might be on their tail.

At the next corner, a voice shouted, "Freeze! Stay where you are!" It was a man; one of Janson's security guards. In his hand was a large gun. He cocked it; aiming the point at the Gladers, and fired.

The group bolted the way they'd come as the sound of shots ricocheting off the wall could be heard behind them. Y/n tried to look backward, but Thomas put a hand on her shoulder to steer her on.

All of a sudden, Minho stopped in his tracks and spun around. He glared at the shooter like a predator laying eyes on its helpless prey. Before the others could comprehend what he was doing, Minho ran at the guard and kicked him into the wall, knocking him out cold.

The rest of the Gladers ran up to him, both impressed and concerned.

"Shit, Minho!" Newt gaped. 

Thomas bent down to pick up the man's gun. "Okay," he said. "Let's go."

They continued on their way, quickly but cautious, until finally, their hostage doctor said they'd arrived at Teresa's room.

"Good," Thomas said, gripping his gun tightly. "Now open the door."

Wisely, the woman did as she was told. Inside stood a man Thomas didn't recognize. His eyes widened when he saw the woman. "Dr. Crawford, are you here to—"

Though he never got to finish the sentence because Thomas barged in, pointing around his gun.

The man raised his arms in surrender, fear evident on his face. "Wait, wait," he pleaded, backing into the wall.

"Where is she?" Thomas demanded. The man didn't reply. "Where is she!" Thomas repeated, louder.

Then, he noticed the curtain closed around the lone bed in the room. Quickly, he handed the gun to Minho and yanked the curtain aside. Sure enough, Teresa lay unmoving on the bed, a breathing tube up her nostrils.

"Teresa?" he whispered, shaking her gently. He sighed with relief when her eyes fluttered open, confused and disoriented.

"Thomas?" she asked. Her eyes flicked around the room, observing the scene. "What's going on?"

On the Gladers' side, Newt had just finished tying Dr. Crawford's hands behind her back, matching the remaining staff. They all sat on their knees, crowded in a corner of the room while the Gladers aimed their weapons to prevent any of them from escaping.

"We gotta leave right now," Thomas told Teresa. "Come on."

He had just began to help her up when Frypan, who'd been standing guard at the door, shouted to them. "Guys? They're coming! Where do we go?"

"Frypan, move!" Newt grunted as he pushed over an operating table and shoved it against the door, like a barricade.

The group crowded together in the back end of the room; Thomas found Y/n's hand in the chaos and squeezed it tightly. Whether the gesture was to reassure her or himself, he wasn't really sure. Minho, being the one with the gun, stayed at the front to try and keep everyone else out of danger as much as possible with shouts of, "Get back! Get back!"

The guards were pounding and body-slamming against the door in attempt to bust it open. With every hit, they grew closer to reaching the Gladers.

"Okay, we gotta get out of here!" Minho said, as though that weren't obvious.

Thomas glanced at their surroundings, trying to figure out what to do. There was a glass window right there, leading into another room. If they could just break it ...

His eyes landed on a small swivel chair beside the bed. He picked it up, yelled a warning to his friends, and slammed the chair against the window with all his might. It didn't smash like he hoped it would; in fact, it didn't even crack. The chair merely bounced against the surface like a rubber ball on a hard floor. But he couldn't give up now, not when they were so close to escaping. So he swung the chair and hit the window again. And again.

After three hits, Newt picked up another chair and joined his friend at the glass. "Ready?" Thomas said. "Three, two, one." Together, they slammed the chairs into the surface and smashed it, just as the first guard managed to cross through the door.