In my Blood

CHAPTER 34 - Grief

I hear a massive booming noise, and hold tighter onto Newt's torso, my face scrunched up as I await the pain. But no pain comes. I cautiously look around me as the ear-splitting noises continue, facing the other end of the camp where a truck smashes through a row of metal barrels. Yells break out all around me, from teenagers and WICKED soldiers alike, as the car pursues at an immense speed.

Thomas holds the bomb in his shaking hand. He didn't press the button. We're alive. Me and Newt laugh softly in relief, grinning widely to the others who seem just as relieved as us. We all look towards the truck, gaining speed as it breaks its way through the crowd of WICKED soldiers. I look into the rear window of the truck.

"It's Jorge!" I yell, laughing. My laugh suddenly turns into a frown of horror as Jorge smashes into a helicopter, sending it flying towards us. "GO!"

Bits of metal and debris fly through the air as everyone either ducks or runs away. The place is in chaos. Soldiers and teenagers run around, screaming at the top of their lungs, others lying unmoving on the floor. Janson, Ava and Teresa are nowhere to be seen. I catch a glimpse of Thomas, who stares around on the floor, dazed.

"Come on, we gotta get out of here!" Fry screams. Thomas nods, but there's something else behind his eyes. I know that look.

"Thomas, no!" I warn him. He's planning something. Thomas takes one look at me before taking the bomb out of his pocket, pressing the button, and throwing it towards a swarm of oncoming soldiers.

"Run! Now!" he shouts. We all yell at him as we stumble away, up a rocky, sloped terrain, and hear a loud explosion from behind. Sparks and embers of fire rise into the air behind us as we keep running, trying to keep our feet stable as the ground rumbles beneath us. I finally reach the top of the slope, near the truck, but Jorge isn't there anymore.

I look down the slope, to the cloud of smoke. Newt reaches me, then Minho and Frypan, but Thomas is still running. I suddenly gasp as I see a figure emerge from the smoke: Janson.

"Thomas, behind you!" I scream. He turns around, just as Janson strikes him on the back of his head, causing him to fall onto the ground. Janson kicks him hard in the chest while I shout, beginning to run back down the slope. I see a glint in Janson's eyes as he pulls out a pistol and aims it at Thomas' face.

"NO!" I yell, my voice hoarse. Then I hear a gunshot as Janson falls to the ground. I freeze, looking around me in confusion. Brenda crouches behind a boulder, holding a shotgun and grinning at Thomas. He quickly gets back up, but not before another group of WICKED soldiers run towards us. 

"Quickly, to the truck!" he shouts at me, picking up Janson's pistol on the ground near him. I nod briefly before sprinting back to the others, who shoot me looks of disbelief and horror. 

"We need to get behind something and wait for Thomas," I order. I point to a large crate and crouch behind it, the others following. Minho spots a large gun on the floor and picks it up, flashing us a smile before charging out to the sound of gunfire. 

"Wait, Minho!" I yell after him.

A scream cuts through the air. I lift myself over the crate,  and my eyes widen as I see Minho lying on the floor, his face in a paralysed state of shock and his body writhing in blue sparks. 

"Oh shuck, Minho!" Newt shouts, his voice breaking. We take one look at each other before jumping out into the open, running towards Minho's body. He's all the way at the bottom of the slope. His face pulsates with electric energy, his eyes screwed together in pain. The soldiers who shot him are moving quickly towards him. 

We all scream as they reach Minho and pick him up, urging my legs to move faster. We scream his name as they drag him away, his legs twitching as they drag across the floor. 

"Stop, leave him alone!" I wail, beginning to cry. I stop running, putting my face in my hands. I let out a long, piercing scream. My voice cracks as I watch, through my fingertips, while the soldiers drag him into the hatch of the Berg, his eyelids closing. The sound of gunfire drills into my head as my voice trails off, defeated, hopeless. 

I don't even notice Jorge and Thomas drag me away until I'm standing at the top of the slope, the distant rumble of propellers growing fainter in the distance. I look up, and though my vision is blurred with tears, I can see the Berg disappearing further into the horizon, leaving behind a campsite of dead bodies and empty gun magazines lying amongst the rubble. 

***

Daylight breaks over the skyline, filling the land with light. We should be getting on a ship now, just west from here. Instead, we're piling dead bodies under sheets of beige tarpaulins, trying to put out fires that WICKED left us to clean up. 

No one slept last night. 

The only sounds I can hear is the whistle of the humid wind and sobbing coming from a grieving woman further down the campsite. I rub my eyes groggily as I pull another sheet carefully over three more people. That's forty-four. 

"(y/n). You don't have to do that," Vince mutters. 

"It's... okay, I - I want to," I reply, voice raspy from the previous night. "Where will their bodies go?"

Vince shrugs, his eyes portraying such a dark sadness. I wish I'd never asked. He lost Mary.

A dense, empty silence fills the air around the group. We're all here; all that's left of us, anyway. Me and Vince. Thomas. Newt. Fry. Brenda, Jorge, Harriet. I see Newt crouched down, holding a black soldier's helmet and glaring at it. 

"What do we do now?" Fry asks quietly. 

"We pick up what's left," Vince answers. "Pack the rest of our stuff up. Carry it to the vans, go to the ship and get you kids to the Safe Haven."

I look to the floor. I can't even think of going to a Safe Haven while Minho is still in WICKED, and apparently Thomas has the same idea. He shakes his head, then gets up and faces Vince. 

"I'm not going with you," he announces. 

Vince's face distorts in confusion. "What?"

"I made a promise to Minho. That we wouldn't leave him behind. Right after WICKED got him, I yelled to him, 'we'll find you.' And I intend on keeping that promise." 

"Hey, kid, look around you," Vince says loudly, gesturing to the camp. "WICKED just kicked our asses. Think about that. One boy, against WICKED? You think you could beat them next time?"

"Make it two," Newt calls, walking over beside Thomas. 

"No, Newt, I'm not asking anyone to come with me," Thomas argues quietly. 

"Listen to me, mate," Newt says, so quietly I almost can't hear him. His voice is filled with both sadness and anger that it makes my heart lurch for him. "I've known Minho for... well, as long as I can remember. So if there is any way that we can help him, trust me, I will be there standing next to you. But..." he stops, a pained look passing across his haunted face. "This, what you're talking about... it's impossible."

"More like suicide," Jorge chuckles, sauntering to the two of them.  

"Maybe," Thomas thinks. "But I know what I'm supposed to do now." He slings a gun over his shoulder with force. "This isn't just about Minho. It's about everyone that WICKED's taken from us. Alby. Chuck. Winston. Mary. And it's about all of those they will  take. They'll never stop."

"I'm with you," I declare. I look to Thomas with a determined stare. I glance to Newt, who wears a similar expression, and Fry, who's nodding as he listens to Thomas. 

"They'll never stop; so I'm gonna stop them. I'm gonna kill Ava Paige."

"I have to admit," a voice pipes up. Harriet. "I'd like some revenge."

Vince takes a short look around the ground before his narrowed eyes fall on Thomas. "It's a good speech, kid. So what's your plan?"