Him || The Scorch Trials

Nineteen

"All right, everybody listen!"

A booming voice tore through the air like a dishevelled paper plane, flying past each and every individual around it.

Mara looked up to see the Crank and Tommy standing side by side, addressing the crowd of anticipating listeners who hoped to hear some type of good news. They seemed almost captivated by the older man and his accomplice, watching them with a curious eye and open mind.

He took another breath, relishing in the attention he was given. "Me and the bird-face here have come to a resolution."

A sigh of relief blew through Mara's lips. The way he spoke was sort of comforting to her, allowing the possibility of being let go to slip back into Mara's mind. Maybe they'd get out of there sooner than they thought.

Her eyes wandered around the room, hovering over the Cranks who grins showed their sadistic state of mind. Each one held onto their weapons as if it was connected at the joints, and there was no way of separating the tight link between the owner and the lethal weapon of destruction.

"First, we need to get these people food." Jorge spoke up once again, drawing Mara's attention back at the mention of a simple meal. "I know it seems crazy to share our hard-earned grub with a bunch of strangers, but I think we could use their help. Give 'em the pork and beans- I'm sick of that horse crap anyway." A snicker came from a skinny boy nearby, his face contorted into a sickly smirk. "Second, being the grand gentleman and saint that I am, I've decided not to kill the punk who attacked me."

At this, Mara wanted to be pleased, but she wasn't, much to the similarity of some Cranks around the room. But they had different reasons.

Some looked as if they'd been told their entire family had been killed, or that their six month old puppy had been slaughtered horrifically. The look of disbelief was vivid and disturbing, but all was because they had been told they couldn't kill one single boy.

But Mara was worried for Minho, and for Thomas. It must have taken a great deal of convincing to save Minho's life with Jorge, and she was sure that it must have come with a price. Either Minho was in some sort of trouble in a different way, or Thomas had promised something in return for his life. There was no way that a man like Jorge would let Minho walk away scotch free.

As expected, the Crank lifted his long, bony finger and pointed it at the feisty boy, who, to no one's surprise, smiled back and waved with all his heart.

Classic Minho.

"Pretty happy, are you?" Jorge snorted. "That's good to know. Means you'll take it well."

"What news?" Minho replied hastily, the happiness quickly fading from his mucky face."

Again, the Crank paused. The anticipation of what he was about to say building along with a queasy feeling in the pits of Mara's body, a deep physical pain resting inside from the agony of waiting.

"After we get you stragglers fed so you don't go dying of starvation on us, you get to have your punishment for attacking me."

"Oh yeah?" Minho spoke back, a brave and unfathomable trait sticking out in a way Mara sort of admired. "And what's that gonna be?"

A black, expressionless look was plastered across the Crank's dirtied face, one that shook Mara to the core. Its effect was unexplainable, but it was so plain that the simplicity was washed away by the hidden means of enjoyment lurking in the gleam in his eyes.

"You punched me with both of your fists. So we're gonna cut a finger off each hand."

That made the Cranks happy, but Mara on the other hand, was a picture of horror and distress. Cries of joy came from the surrounding Cranks, hollering at the chance of using the weapons they clung so dearly to.

A raging swarm of anxiety tightened around Mara's throat, squeezing and squeezing until she was spluttering for air. She held herself back from making a scene, trying to keep her nerves under control. There was no way she wanted to draw attention to herself, especially with the amount of people that were there, but she couldn't stop the attack from diminishing.

They were going to hurt him. He was going to lose a lot of blood, and if they couldn't control that, he was going to die from blood loss and extreme pain. Her friend was going to die.

"M?" A voice whispered, taking her by the shoulders. She knew it was Newt, but she hoped he was the only one who had noticed. Her eyes were failing her, blurring with tears and contorting her vision. "Hey, M, can you hear me?"

She looked towards the direction of his voice, a mash of messy hair and indistinct features staring back at her. Although she couldn't see him, she knew he held a look of pure worry.

In fear of the others noticing, her head twisted around the room, with her eyes trying to focus on the others around her. Most of them were facing away, or so that's what it looked like, but she was sure that Tommy was watching her from the other side of the room.

Her throat was so tight, so constricted by a thick line of pain. Why was this happening? She hadn't had a panic attack for so long, so why now? Was it something to do with the Flare?

Something was happening up ahead, but she couldn't quite make it out. More people were standing in a group. Gladers? Cranks? Maybe even both, but there were more than just Tommy and Jorge.

A woozy feeling was overtaking her mind, spinning around her head. Her body felt numb and empty now, the tightness spreading until it encased every part of her flesh and bones. It was overwhelming; she couldn't tell what was real and what was in her mind.

Figures were coming closer, but they were so unclear. Who were they? Were they real?

It felt so uncomfortable.

She felt so weak.

So weak, and tired, and small.

-

Sorry for the late update guys, I fell asleep while I was writing last night and didn't manage to finish until today, but its up! Finally haha sorry for the wait. What happened to Mara though? Any of you guys have any ideas?

Until the next chapter then.