little immune {the scorch trials} (request)

˜"*°• 13 •°*"˜

The Gladers scrambled up the sand dunes, constantly slipping and sliding, but never stopping. They had to get as far from WICKED as they possibly could, especially with the guards emerging from the complex to search for them.

Thomas occasionally shouted words of encouragement to the others, desperately needing them to keep up. "All right, come on. Keep going!" He squeezed Y/n's hand tightly, pulling her along. He had no doubt that she could take care of herself, but he had to be sure that she wasn't lost to the deserted wasteland.

Thomas swore as he glanced over his shoulder, seeing the WICKED guards on motorcycles slowly start to gain on them. Sand was lifting from the ground as a harsh wind whipped across the dunes, and for once, Thomas was grateful for the rough climate. "Come on, go!" he yelled at his friends. "We'll lose them in the storm!"

The kids continued to clamber over the sand, keeping themselves obscured from the view of WICKED.

Suddenly, Teresa bolted past the Gladers, heading for something in the distance.

"Teresa, hang on!" Thomas shouted. "Stay together!"

Minho's voice rang over the sound of the whipping winds. "I think we lost them!"

Thomas thought so too, but they couldn't take any chances. "Keep going, guys," he encouraged, keeping an eye on Teresa. "Let's go."

Teresa had come to a stop and some kind of abandoned building, trying to find a way in.

"Where are we even going?" Minho called out.

"Come on!" Teresa replied, disappearing into the entrance she found: a section of the glass roof that had caved in.

"Teresa, wait!" Thomas screamed, his voice hoarse. "Don't go in there!"

Teresa ignored his protests. "Get down here!" she insisted. "Where else are we supposed to hide?"

Thomas sighed in defeat. She had a point. They'd be caught if they stayed out in the open much longer. "Okay, get inside." He ushered the Gladers through one by one, then slipped in once everyone else had gone. He slid down a large hill of sand until his feet finally landed on solid ground.

At the bottom, Minho had turned on a flashlight and was inspecting the surrounding area. The group stood in a wide corridor with a high ceiling, piles of rubble and wreckage spread across the floor. "Where the hell are we?" he asked, eyes scrunching in confusion.

"We gotta go," Thomas said, ignoring Minho's question as he tried to lead the group deeper into the building's ruined interior. "We gotta keep moving."

Teresa was shaking her head. "No. Thomas, stop!" Thomas stopped and turned around, surprised by her commanding tone. "Tell me what's going on."

Thomas inhaled deeply, releasing Y/n's hand so he could step closer to Teresa. He tried to keep his voice as calm and stable as he could while he spoke. "It's WICKED. It's always been WICKED. They lied to us. We never escaped. Me and Aris, we found bodies. Too many to count."

"What do you mean?" Minho asked gravely. "Dead bodies?"

"No, but they weren't alive either. They had them strung up, with tubes coming out of them. They were being ..." He paused, trying to steady his breathing. "They were being drained. There's something inside of us that WICKED wants. Something in our blood. So we have to get as far away from them as possible."

The room was silent for an excruciatingly long few seconds, the howling wind behind them the only sound. Thomas studied his friends' faces as they processed the information.

Newt, still with his air of authority from being second-in-command back in the Glade, was the first to speak. "Okay. So, what's the plan?"

Thomas opened his mouth to say something, then realized he had no shucking idea what their next move should be, besides running away and not getting caught. He thought he must have looked really stupid standing there with a blank expression, not saying anything. Newt seemed to think so too. He stared at Thomas in disbelief.