𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 》TMR, Minho

001

I was an Immune, maybe the only good thing I knew about my past, though losing my mind to the Flare wouldn't feel very different in my opinion, since I already felt like I was losing it.
I always wondered what the hell was so special about Immunes. They were just people. Same species as people who weren't immune to the horrible virus, but we were just not dangerous, that's what my leader said, at least.

And yet I went out there, in the Scorch, every day to kill off those Cranks. The power was amazing, the guilt after a little less, but I got over it easily. It had been a habit since I was about eight years old, so compared to other kids my age, I felt like I grew up way faster. Too fast with too many things to handle. And I did not spend my whole life with my leader and group, killing just Cranks. I had been in many places, but always with the same people until I finally ran away myself and found the group I was in now.

We were The Derniers. Yes, French. That's what our leader, Holt Aven, liked to call us.
'The Last Ones.'

But I knew we weren't the last ones. We weren't the last Immunes for sure, because I was mostly surrounded by older people, who were able to get that Flare.. but we couldn't be the last group, right? Someone other than Cranks had to be out there.

Most of the time our group hid in a big bunker, built in the middle of a mountain. More than two hundred people were part of our group if it weren't five hundred. I couldn't tell. I barely saw the people, because Holt made it very clear I was different, but I didn't agree. Well, I didn't agree with most things he said and especially not that.

No one was different. Maybe their personalities and looks were different, but behind the masks, everyone wanted the same thing. To survive, no matter what the cost.

That's what I thought everyone was like, then. Sooner or later I would find out some people were ready to die for each other, but in the place where I lived, no one helped or saved each other, let alone sacrifice themselves. You had to survive on your own and were lucky if someone else was there to save you, but I bet they wouldn't even notice if you just disappeared, so don't expect them to go look for you.

It was the same thing every day, with our group. Wake up in a rusty bunk bed, have breakfast, which always was dead animals we hunted earlier, go outside, hunt and kill things along our way, and get back. Easy as it was, though I didn't agree much with killing everything along our way. Animals, sure, we needed food. Cranks, well, that was okay, but I hated the fact our only goal was to just kill them. That's what Holt wanted, because he thought if we killed them all, the virus couldn't spread. He was quite dumb for a leader, yet it felt like I was the only one who noticed that. Everyone always admired him!

So, there I sat, maybe for the thousandth time, at the table to eat my breakfast. Bacon.. at least that was nicer than the food we had in the past.

"Ready for today?" Holt, the older man, whose beard grew grey by now, sat down next to me. Our one and only leader with a bit of a French accent, though sometimes I felt like he set it up and was just trying to be cool instead of actually being French.

"And ready for the million other times I'll be doing this? Yes." I replied casually.

Holt let out a laugh, something he barely did. "That's right, fille."

"You know.." I started, putting some of my dark long hair behind my ear. "Why don't you go out there sometime? Like, you only do it once a week and I have to risk my life every day."

"Don't be so dramatic." He stuffed his mouth full of food, making me wait for him to swallow and then continue. "And it's because I'm not an Immune and you are."

"And it's because I'm a lot stronger and you are not." I smiled in satisfaction.

Holt shook his head. "Gaining back the confidence?"

"Oh, I never lost it." I grinned. Confidence and sarcasm might've been my favorite thing in the world, including my dear arrow and bow.

Actually, I wasn't that confident, but it was better than acting like the victim. Because I wasn't the victim at all. I had quite a good life, though it could've been better with some people my age, but I was safe (as long as I was in the bunker).
I could easily use a bow and two simple knives to kill someone if I wanted to, so that did give me confidence.

"What're you using today?" Holt questioned with a mouth full of food.

"The usual."

He scoffed. "A quiver filled with fourteen arrows, one bow in your hands, two knives in your pocket." He stated. "You'll shoot one arrow first. If it doesn't go into the heart or kill the enemy, you'll try again. You won't use more than two arrows on one person."

"It's a waste," I commented, almost smiling at Holt summarizing my way of ending people.

"If those two arrows also won't work, you'll use your knives and fists." He continued. "But that barely happens."

"I always shoot the first arrow well," I confirmed, quite proud of my improvements throughout the years. "But you forgot the first step."

"Aah, of course." He palmed his face in shame and I knew he did not like my way of trapping someone. "If it's a man, you go act all girly and cute, trying to impress him with flirting skills you don't have."

"It works," I assured. "Always does."

"Mhm." He leaned closer to my ear, but his eyes focused on someone else. "It also works in here." Holt pointed at a boy across from us. He was staring at me, eyes twinkling and food almost falling out of his mouth.

"Pass." I rolled my eyes and shook Holt away from me.

Holt sighed and motioned at my full plate. "You better hurry."

"Can't miss me with hunting?" I mocked, laughing a bit after. At least I had Holt's company in the mornings.

"Wouldn't know what to do without you." He winked jokingly and got up. Soon I followed him, still amazed by the bunker.

It was very big with brown walls, and balconies everywhere around me since the bunker was very high.. or deep, depending on your point of view.

All sorts of rooms were on every floor. Medical things, bedrooms, kitchens, and maybe my favorites out of all, Weapon and Practice rooms.

Every morning I woke up early to practice for at least one hour. I would work on my fitness by jogging on a treadmill, sometimes at full speed, and doing other exercises. Then hit fake targets with my bow and arrow, and lastly, use my knives by throwing them, cutting the targets or just swinging them around to look cool.

Quickly I took the stuff I needed out of the Weapon Room and jogged after Holt, who already stood at the long ladder.

"Try to be careful." He gave me a pleasant nod and motioned at the ladder.

I said a fast goodbye and started climbing, an easy job for me. I had been doing it for the past years, so I started hunting when I was sixteen.. when I was fifteen I spent a few months with Holt to train me and the rest of my childhood... was something I'd rather not talk about.

I opened the door that was supposed to look like a well, and it did. Daylight shined right in my eyes as I took a breath, ready to see if anything in the outside world changed except for the Scorch.. a hot desert.