Him || The Scorch Trials

Eleven

They walked, shielding their faces from the brash wind that ambushed each and every one of them with a violent shriek. As they got closer the winds seemed to pick up- if that was possible- making it near impossible to move forward.

Only a couple of miles away from the nearest building of the derelict town, one of the boys had screamed through the wind, pointing towards a still figure laying across the sandy ground ahead of them. They all grouped the hundred year old man in a circle, who was sprawled out across his back with no motion but the subtle rise and fall of his tight chest.

It was gruesome, but in a way that Mara couldn't tear her eyes from the bungled body. His skin was wrinkled and withering away under the burning sun, sinking into his black skin. He had no hair, instead a collection of scars, scabs and sores created a layer of bumps and lumps to fill each part of his bare head.

At first Mara had found it difficult to tell if the man was alive or dead, but when she approached him she could see the alive but lifeless and empty eyes he owned fixated on the blank sky above them. He hadn't seemed to notice the Gladers surrounding him, instead he stayed the way he was, waiting for his last breath to join the winds that pulsated with ferocity and a violent intent.

"Hey! Old man!" Minho's voice could barely be heard over the wind, and Mara was standing next to him. It seemed too unrealistic for the man to hear him. "What're you doing out here?"

Thomas pushed past both of them, kneeling next to the man's head. Mara followed him, hovering slightly above him to look at the man. Seeing the man so empty and unknowing was heart-breaking, and it hurt more to know there was probably nothing they could do for him.

Mara watched as Thomas held his hand inches from the man's face and waved it back and forth, hoping for a response. But nothing came, he didn't even blink.

She sighed, wishing that he could do something. Thomas pulled his hand away from the man, and it may have been very tedious, but Mara spotted it; he blinked. His eyelids drooped together just once before reopening.

 "Sir?" Mara muttered, leaning into Thomas to get closer to the man, praying that he could hear her.

"Can you hear us? Can you talk?" Thomas asked and once again the man blinked slowly. Mara badly wanted that to be his way of communication, but she didn't really know if he was trying to communicate with them or if he was simply just blinking every so often.

On the small of her back she felt the touch of another person and looked up to see Newt kneeling on the other side of her. She leaned towards him as he opened his mouth to speak, listening carefully so that she caught every word.

"This guy's a bloody gold mine if we can get him to tell us stuff about the city. Looks harmless, probably knows what to expect when we go in there."

"Yeah, but he doesn't even seem to be able to hear us, much less have a long talk." Mara noticed Thomas leaning over her to join their conversation, sighing at the man's silence.

"He can hear us." Mara said with confidence. "I'm sure he can."

"Keep trying," Minho called out from behind them, his voice louder than it had been before. "You're officially our foreign ambassador, Thomas. Get that dude to open up and tell us about the good ol' days."

Thomas turned to Minho, then Mara and Newt. She smiled softly and shuffled back a little into Newt, giving Thomas some room. It was better if he tried to get the man's attention on his own, she didn't want to scare the guy to death by being bombarded by teenagers.

"Okay." He nodded, realising what Mara was doing.

Mara watched as he scooted closer to the man and leant down so that their eyes were in line just a couple of feet apart. "Sir? We really need your help!" He shouted over the wind, which carried his voice away, leaving only a loud whisper to Mara. "We need you to tell us if it's safe to go inside the city! We can carry you there if you need help yourself. Sir? Sir!"