Ticking Time Bomb [THE SCORCH TRIALS]

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
❞In this game of love, I'll always be that pawn you are not afraid to lose.❞

           "GREAT PLAN, Thomas."

Ingrid Clearwater couldn't help but agree with Minho's aggravated words that were directed towards an equally annoyed Thomas, who was hanging from the ceiling by a thin thread. In fact, all of them were hanging by a thin thread, dangling over the edge of a shoot that led nearly 30 feet down. Beside her, Teresa pushed the hair out of her face for the twentieth time, sighing loudly. This so-called plan would have gone perfectly if it weren't for Thomas's ability to get quite angry in situations where his fighting wasn't needed. Yet, he supplied it anyway, and now the group of teenagers were stuck. Out of all the things to happen to them, this seemed the most appropriate. "Just hear what the man has to say," Minho mimicked, "Really working out for us."

              "Shut up, Minho," Thomas breathed out, swinging his arms tiredly as the blood rushed to his brain from being hung upside-down. Minho's expression turned unreadable before he shook his head in spite and let out a noise of aggravation. "Hey, maybe we can, uh, reach the rope."

With that, Thomas began reaching to his ankles, tugging on the ropes. Nothing budged, and he groaned loudly. Ingrid herself struggled with her own ropes, tugging them to no avail. She shook her head, wanting to laugh at the situation they had gotten into, but knowing better than to act upon it. For a moment, Ingrid wondered what would've happened if she was with Janson instead. Before she could even let the horrendous thought further even more, she spoke boldly, "I have to say Thomas, this is one hell of a great plan. Almost better than that time you told me to leave my home base."

"You know, all this negativity isn't really helping me," Thomas quipped back immediately, licking his lips to try and calm himself before he snapped. By this point, everyone felt dizzy from the blood rushing to their head. The Clearwater girl was about to do anything to be released from this idiocy. Normally, this is why Ingrid came up with plans. Usually, they involved things that would lead to success, not dangling from the ceiling for over an hour. Suddenly, the sound of incessant footsteps awakened Ingrid's senses, and she averted her eyes towards the upside-down human laughing in front of them. It took a while for her vision to adjust before she realized it was none other than Jorge.

           "Enjoying the view?" He asked in a mocking tone, his cane pressed against his body as he stood upright. Ingrid wanted to reach over and slap the smirk off his face, but she wasn't close enough to slap much of anything.

           "The hell do you want?" Ingrid rolled her eyes, letting out a huff of breath before flaring her nostrils in anger. Thomas threw a glare at her, hoping that she would get the message not to anger him any further. Nonetheless, Ingrid didn't necessarily care. It was at moments like these when she realized what an effect Thomas had on her. He could silence her even in the angriest of moments; enlighten her even in the darkest of days.

A laugh fell from Jorge's lips, "That is the question. See, my men want to sell you back to WCKD. Life has taught them to think small. I'm not like that. And something tells me you're not like that either."

Ingrid's thoughts immediately went into panic mode. She definitely didn't want to get sold back to WCKD, because if she did, she would be considered a prisoner to Janson; not an equal. All her privileges were already revoked once she left, but if she was brought back as a peace offering from rebels, Ingrid definitely wasn't going to be much of anything back at headquarters. Without realizing, Ingrid let out a sigh of anxiety, swinging her body back and forth as a way to soothe her bubbling nerves. Another voice spoke through the darkness, "Is it the blood rushing to my head, or is the shank not making sense?" Ingrid recognized it as Minho, but she didn't comprehend the word shank. She figured it was a word from their Maze; they created their own language to communicate better with each other. Another thing Ingrid remembered from Kimber.