TMR one shots/preferences

Escaping to the Scorch (Movie)

Trigger Warning: Mentions/talks about death. I will put in a note when the paragraph starts and ends.

I screamed encouragement for Thomas to run, faster, faster, as the door closed. He slid at the last second, barely making it as the door slid shut. We pulled him into the group, starting to turn and walk away, but he stopped. He looked like he was thinking hard for a second- something I've never seen him do. He finally turned and stuck his middle finger up at Janson, whose face was smashed into the little glass window in the door.

I burst out laughing as we left, as did the others. It was partly because of the little 'stunt' Thomas pulled, but it was also because of the hysterical atmosphere that surrounded us. We were finally free of WICKED. We wouldn't have to go through any more of their tests, or any of their threats. We wouldn't be losing any more people- we'd all stay together and start a new life, a good life. A life away from the Flare, away from betrayal. We would thrive.

The air was chilly as we entered the Scorch, sand dunes all around. Teresa led us to a mall- something I understood to be as a very populated area. There were no signs of life, granted the building was half collapsed and buried in the sand. We entered through a large, shattered window, sliding down the sand that had spilled in.

I was wandered around with a few others when the group was discussing things between themselves, none of us feeling like taking part in any discussion. The voices raised, and I heard Newt say something.

"Well you led us all the way out here, Thomas, and then you tell us you've got no plan?" His voice broke in the middle of the sentence, the stress cracking his normally calm facade.

"I- uh..." Thomas stuttered, looking down and scratching his head. A few seconds of hushed whispers and stuttering rang through the decrepit mall, and I caught the words 'Safe Haven,' before Newts voice raised again.

"People. In the mountains. Mountain people. That's your plan?" His head was tilted downwards, but the way he was glaring up through his eyelashes was enough to make anyone sane cower in their shoes. Cue more talking that I couldn't be bothered to pay attention to.

Finally, the group decided on who would go where. I was paired with Newt, Frypan, and Teresa.

"Y/N! Over here," Teresa called, showing me a bunch of clothes. Me and Teresa were good enough friends- we were the only girls in the group, and so we had a lot of things to bond about.

I struggled to find something that wasn't moth-bitten or just plain ugly, but I managed. I gathered up a light windbreaker, a tang top, leggings, jeans, and some loose flannel. I pulled on the tang top, leggings, and flannel, stuffing the jeans and windbreaker into the backpacks we found. I contemplated trying on the shoes we found but decided against it. The shoes WICKED gave us worked just fine.

We finally went outside the clothing room to where Newt and Frypan were digging around, and we started exploring. We met back up with most of the group, but Thomas and Minho were still absent. We were walking down a hallway when finally, we heard screaming. Considering Minho, I figured he was trying to play a prank or something, but I turned anyway. Thomas and Minho were bolting our way, pure terror on their faces. That's some good acting, I thought, till I realized they weren't acting. Weird zombie things (I think they were the cranks that some people mentioned) were chasing them, and I realized I was supposed to be running.

A/N: Trigger Warning- Mentions death in following paragraph.

I whipped around and started running, not sure exactly where to go. I followed Minho, who had sprinted to the front of the group. He led the way to a group of doors, and we struggled to get them open. I could hear Winston screaming in the back- something about holding them off. I don't know what was going through his head, but it was definitely something dumb. Who in their right minds would try to be heroic and stop zombies for god's sake? Like I get it- he's trying to be heroic and shit. But I would much rather not risk my life with a bunch of skeletons with veins, even if it were for friends. I mean, I'll like jump off a cliff or whatever, as long as it's a quick death. But i was not going to risk my life with those things.

A/N: Death mentioning is done.

We finally kicked the door in, and I was shoved and pushed as everyone tried to get through the doors. I finally went through the doors, and a few kids dragged Winston in. We ran to hide in the ruins, and I was practically the front of the group. Everyone anonymously decided to stay under one of the bigger overhangs, and Winston flopped to the ground.

Everyone got comfortable and we finally went to sleep, all the running and action from the day taking a toll on the lot of us as everyone dropped into unconsciousness.

I was one of the last to wake up, and when I did, I nearly fell back again. My joints were incredibly stiff with sand, and I could literally hear them creaking. I stretched and cracked my back, neck, and knuckles, hoping that would relieve some tension. It somewhat helped. There was sand everywhere, in my shoes, hair, one my face and in my eyes. It was like torture.

Newt pulled out a bunch of jackets, scarves, and long-sleeved shirts, which Teresa and I refused, pulling our jackets out of our own backpacks. I stripped myself of my flannel and slipped my windbreaker on, contemplating whether or not I should put the jeans on as well. I decided that being able to easily move was better than limited mobility, and so I put everything back in my pack. Meanwhile, some people were looking over Winston, making sure his wounds from the Cranks weren't too bad. I think we all suspected he would turn into a Crank as well, but we were hoping against hope that we would be wrong.

With everything prepared and ready, we all started across the dunes, in the general direction of the mountains. I realized now that not all of us would make it to the Safe Haven, but I was sure that more of us would have a chance of surviving out here than with W.I.C.K.E.D.

With these depressing thoughts plaguing my mind, I made my way across the hot sands, sticking close to the group.