After the Crank (TMR Fanfic) [Completed]

Chapter 29

30.1.19

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2.18

Thomas stood still seeing the situation around him. It was horrifying. About twenty kids were lying on their back, half conscious. Their skin were green. Their breaths were quick and shallow. He thought he knew the problem. The symptoms were familiar after he saw what happened to Alby, Ben, and himself as the impact of the Griever’s stung. The mutated virus—might be the same virus that Grievers had in their needles. But, how? Did WICKED infected the kids before the Right Arm got them rescued?

“Sam!” Newt found the boy was lying among the other. Soon, he was kneeling next tho him. “Sam, tell me, who did this?”

Sam blinked. Though his skin color was normal, he didn’t look well. He seemed to lose his energy. He hardly tried to speak.

While Newt was waiting for the answer from Sam, Minho was examining the kids one by one. Thomas himself still froze where he exactly stopped since he’d entered the room.

“Sam,” Newt shook the boy’s shoulder, keeping him conscious.

“Newt ...” Sam blinked once again. Not long until his eyes fully closed.

Thomas moved his leg. He walked toward one of the sick kids. The boy wore a black shirt. He  guessed, that boy was two or so younger than him. His bad appearance stimulated the memories he had about Alby, Ben, and himself. He knew how it felt to get infected by that mutated virus. Worse than people would think. His hand reached out. He didn’t touch the boy yet when he was suddenly attacked by he thought the sick boy.

It startled him. He wasn’t ready for any attacks. When the boy woke up and quickly grabbed his hand, he didn’t defend himself. He tried to fight the boy. However, it was too late. The boy gripped his hands so tight, much less another boy that wore green shirt helped the black shirt gripping him.

“What the shuck!” Thomas groaned.

The boys tightened their hands. His body perfectly locked.

“Tommy!” Newt moved away from Sam to meet Thomas.

“What the shuck are you doing, slinthead?” Minho spat. He brought himself toward Thomas. “We saved you.”

As Minho strode one step further from where Newt stood, the black shirt warned him, “Don’t come any closer!”

Thomas desperately tried to move and he couldn’t. He hated himself for being so weak that he couldn’t free his hands.

“You boys, realize that there are a dozen of us and only the two of you!” Minho didn’t give a damn about his warning. He kept walking.

“Back off!” Now is the green shirt.

Thomas rolled his eyes. He glared Brenda standing behind the wall outside, hiding. She winked when her eyes met Thomas’s. He rarely smiled. Brenda slowly moved. A second later, a metal bullet landed on the black shirt. Brenda had shot the Launcher she brought. Spontaneously, the boy sprawled on the floor.

Thomas took a chance to loosen his hands. He stepped on the green shirt’s foot, then twisted the boy’s hands to his back. The boy whined in pain. He didn’t mean to hurt him, but felt no guilt. The boy deserved that. Even, for what he did to the other kids—of course his suspicion formed because the black and the green shirt did attack him—he deserved more.

“What happened to them?” Brenda showed up. Her gaze cast to every inch of the room.

“It’s like the Griever’s stung,” Minho guessed, eyes glanced to Thomas and Newt. Both of them nodded for agreement.