In my Blood

CHAPTER 38 - A Different Kind of Dangerous

"There," Thomas announces, slamming a map down on the table. "That's it. A few hundred miles away, maybe. It's gotta be where they're headed."

Circled in red pen is a small grid of lines on the map, connected together in a close-knit pattern. I narrow my eyes in concentration, looking at the map as I chew on my thumbnail. Vince leans forward, his expression unreadable as he listens to the boy. The light in the centre of the table flickers ever so slightly, casting eerie shadows around the walls. I hear Newt let out a soft sigh of exhaustion, cupping his mug in both hands as he watches intently.

"Based on the railways, and the direction WICKED were travelling, that's it. It's where they're taking Minho," Thomas continues. "We take everyone who can fight; follow roads where we can, and we can make it back within a week."

Vince gapes at him incredulously. "A week? It took us six months to get here." He pauses to look back down at the map, shaking his head angrily. "We've got over a hundred kids here now. We can't just hang around forever, waiting for WICKED to find us. After what we just pulled, we're back on their radar! They're gonna be searching longer, harder, faster  than before, and you just want to wander off to some random point on the map? I don't think so."

I stop chewing on my thumbnail. "I know why Minho wasn't there. It was those boys, the ones who were meant  to be guarding the back door. No one was guarding it before we left." 

Everyone looks towards me. Vince's eyes cloud over with anger, while Thomas and Newt nod slowly, Brenda and Fry exchanging anxious glances.

"No, you don't get to assume that, (y/n)!" Vince snaps. I don't flinch. 

"Why not?" I retort, my voice rising. "Because you're afraid that it's true? I saw one of the boys disappear halfway through the mission, Vince! He just vanished! And the other one was so preoccupied that of course he wouldn't notice if one of the guards snuck around the back!"

Vince scoffs. "You're talking bullshit!"

"Hey!" Newt snaps, standing up. "That's enough!  You don't get to talk to her that way, Vince. She has a bloody good point, and if you can't see that, then maybe you shouldn't lead with such a distrustful judgement!"

Vince sighs deeply, putting his head in his hands. "I'm sorry," he mutters. He sighs once more. "I'm sorry, (y/n). I didn't mean to lash out. I just... I can't risk having the Right Arm fall apart because of one man. I know Minho means a lot to you, to all of you." He stops, looking around the room, before focusing his stare on Thomas. "But we can't risk it. I don't even know what's there."

"I do."

We all turn our heads in the direction of the deep, familiar voice. Jorge lingers by the doorway of the room, slowly sauntering out of the shadows with a slight smile. "It's been a few years, but, I've been there. The Last City, they called it."

"Who?" Fry asks.

"WICKED. It was their whole base of operations. If the Last City is still standing, then that's the last place you wanna go, hermano. It's the lion's den." 

"It's nothing we haven't done before," Thomas argues quietly. 

"With months of planning," Vince intervenes, the hint of anger laced in his tone. "And reliable information, the element of surprise. None of which we have anymore."

"Look, Vince, I've thought this through-" 

"No! You haven't!" Vince erupts, suddenly angry again. "Last time we fought back, I lost everything! You remember that?" His voice quivers slightly, his expression growing solemn, haunted. I remember. The image of Vince cradling Mary's limp body pops into my mind, with her deep red blood spilling out onto the dusty desert floor.