WICKED told them the Trial was over -no more tests, no more lies, but Frankie had been deceived enough to know that the statement alone could never be true.
Truthfully, she wanted to die. She wanted to leave this cruel world of being experimented an...
He bent over for Frankie to climb on his back and ran left, into another identical hallway.
"I don't know where to go," he said between short breaths.
So they kept on running, hallway after hallway, trying to keep as much distance as they could from the previous battle arena. And with every footstep Reggie took into the unknown, Frankie felt a little more hopeless.
Newt was nowhere in sight.
None of her friends were around.
There were no shouts or sounds heard, except for the sound of Reggie's feet hitting the ceramic floor, their heavy breaths, and her own heartbeats.
Then her eyes caught a pair of green double doors, one of them slightly ajar, at the dead end of a hallway.
After rows and rows of endless white, single doors, that path stood out terribly.
"Reggie, that way."
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THE MASSIVE HANGAR looked like it was built to hold three of WICKED's enormous Bergs, but only two stood in their loading spots. They loomed like giant squatting frogs, all scorched metal and worn edges.
Other than a few cargo crates and what looked like mechanics' stations, the rest of the area was nothing but open space.
Minho was standing over a man, lying on the floor with a banged up head, together with Thomas, Newt, and Brenda.
When Brenda convinced the three Gladers to escape from WICKED with her plan —after all the running and fighting, he expected their runaway pilot to be at least conscious.
"What happened? How'd you get hurt? Who took the Berg? Where is everyone?"
The man —Jorge, groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. "Calm your pants, hermana. My head feels like it's been stomped by dancing Cranks. Just give me a sec while I get my wits back together."
Brenda gave him some space and sat down with her face flushed.
"I don't know how they did it," Jorge began, "But they took over the compound, got rid of the guards, stole a Berg, flew out of here with another pilot. I was an idiot and tried to get them to wait until I could find out more about what's going on. Now my head's paying for it."
"Who?" Brenda asked, "Who are you talking about? Who left?"
"That Teresa chick. Her and the rest of the subjects. Well, all of them except you muchachos."
Minho frowned.
He thought, maybe, those tied up guards were the works of some Cranks or other group trying to infiltrate WICKED. But Teresa? Led an escape?
