The Death Cure Rewrite

Part 5

On the outskirts of the Last City, seemingly millions of people just like us survived together, making use of anything Wicked had left behind. They didn't really look any better than we did, meaning Wicked didn't leave much, but there were so many people that it could've just been depleted quickly.

Thomas pushed through the crowd and I followed behind him since he was already making the path. People here didn't care who you were, they just rammed past you without apologizing. I thought it was poor manners, but then again, in a time like this, I supposed manners weren't really high on the priority list.

"This place has really gone to hell," Jorge said.

"We just gotta stay together," Thomas said.

"-the voice of the voiceless!" Everyone stepped to the side, including us, to make way for the truck carrying the man who yelled into the bullhorn. "They hide behind their walls thinking they can keep the cure for themselves while they watch the rest of us wither and rot." As the truck got closer, Thomas wrapped his hand around my wrist, his silent way of telling me to stay back. "But there are more of us then there are of them!"

The truck passed and I stared up at it. There was a man sitting on the back, his face hidden behind a mask and the gun he held, and he stared at us. I knew this because even though I couldn't see his eyes, his head kept turning to stay in our direction even after the truck passed us.

"What the hell was that about?" I asked. Thomas glanced down at me and shrugged then turned his back to me to watch the man. The back of his neck glowed in a pattern I didn't recognize, but I knew it was Wicked's sensors picking up our location. If they didn't know we were here yet, they did now.

It seemed like we'd stepped right into a revolution as the people all followed the trucks, screaming and clamoring with signs and weapons in their hands. We just followed the sound and it led us right to the wall.

"That's it, that's our way in," Thomas said. I pushed through the people yelling 'let us in' on a loop, determined to make it to the entry.

"Thomas!" Jorge yelled over the noise. "This is not what you're looking for! All these people trying to find their way in, you think you're gunna find something they can't?"

"We came this far. Can't turn back now," I replied. I periodically checked over my shoulder to make sure my friends were at least trying to follow, but it was hard to stay completely together when so many others were forcing through. I just happened to look behind Newt, but what I saw rose the hair on my arms. The masked guy from before was standing near the back watching us.

Shaking him off, I continued to follow Thomas. The man was way back there. We'd have time to fight back if he decided to come to us. Jorge grumpily shoved people out of our way, wasting no time with niceties, and we stopped at the front of the mob.

There was quite a bit of ground to cover between here and the wall's door and I wondered why people avoided it like the Flare.

"Guys, this doesn't feel right," Jorge said.

"I bet we could make it," I said, judging the distance to be doable.

I stumbled forward a bit when Newt ran into us, his arms stretched over all three of our shoulders. "Hey, guys, we gotta go now. Look." He glanced back at the masked man pushing through the crowd to us.

"Uh... Shit, should I be getting out my knives?" Jorge answered me by pulling out his gun. I reached for a pouch, flicking open the button, but a loud bullhorn blared from the wall. It quieted the entire crowd and brought my attention back to the city.