tough world ✔️ | death cure minho

11

"THERE ARE TOO many words of escape, left, and behind in the story today."

Minho told Frankie how he was held at gunpoint after they refused to undergo the Swipe surgery, only to be forced to do it the next day. Brenda was one of the nurses, hence her scrub attire, and she led the small scaled rebellion towards the hangar herself.

Brenda had been helping with her physical therapy, so the news didn't hit Frankie quite as hard, but Reggie needed some time to perceive that the two Crank leaders who taught him to fight were actually a nurse and a pilot.

"It would make much more sense if they work as guards or securities here," he remarked, "But nurse. And pilot."

Frankie (well, Reggie did most of the talking actually) told Minho how she woke up in a hospital room with Reggie for some additional tests because their brains were two of a kind.

"WICKED's not even sure if we're totally Immune. They thought we're Half-Cranks."

"You're what?" Newt asked, afraid that he was losing the ability to hear properly already.

"Half-Cranks," Reggie repeated.

Minho glanced at Frankie, and she sent him a small comforting smile.

"But we're considered Immunes now."

"Found them!" Jorge suddenly announced. He jumped out of the cockpit theatrically and repeated, "Found them!"

"You're leaving the wheels unattended?" Newt queried.

"Come on. I'm way smarter than you think," Jorge bragged. He made his way towards them and sat down, joining the circle, "Denver."

"Denver?"

"The other Berg, with your friends. They went to a city called Denver. Just landed, actually. Got it from their tracking system."

"Where's that? And how is the real world..." Reggie faltered and looked at the hispanic man, now clad in a WICKED uniform. "It's not all like the Scorch, is it?"

"No," Jorge replied. "Only the regions between the Tropics are a wasteland. Everywhere else has extreme swings of climate. There are a few cities we could go to. With most of us being immune, we could probably find jobs pretty easily."

"Jobs..." Frankie said after they were engulfed in a moment of silence. The word sounded foreign in her mouth.

Right. If they were truly going to escape into the real world, they had to start living like real people. That would mean having jobs, settling for rent, paying for food.

"Denver's in the Rocky Mountains. One of the obvious choices for a quarantine zone because the weather's recovered pretty quickly there since the sun flares. As good as a place as any to go," Jorge continued, "Now, aren't your Swipes still in your ugly heads?"

Minho sighed bitterly, "What? You gonna force us to take 'em off, too?"

"Of course!" Jorge frowned, "You do know that WICKED can track your position and control you with that device. They can manipulate you, make you do things."

"And why should I believe you? That label there said you're a shucking member of WICKED, too."

"I'm here now, aren't I?" Jorge scoffed, "The moment I left the hatch with you, I'm better off dead to them. That thing in your head can lead them to us, hermano, then to our deaths. All of us."

Minho went quiet at that.

"Brenda and I have an old friend there. Hans. He was a doctor who worked for WICKED, until he had a disagreement with the higher-ups a few years back, got real angry about protocols and what not, then he escaped —bottomline, he's smart and he's on our side. He can take them out or at least shut them off."