FALLEN WARRIORS

V: Devil's Choir

05;
DEVIL'S CHOIR
AC/DC―Highway To Hell

                The journey for them to get to the exit consists of silence, aside from some of the boys' hard and heavy breaths that echoes with their shuffling feet as they run with Ilithyia as their guide.

After their laughter subsided―which Ilityhia was so relieved, Minho agreed for them to run, wanting to exit the tunnel. None went against his words for they too want to exit the tunnel just as much as he wants. Him and Newt are the ones responsible to hold the torches, illuminating the hallway for them to see the way.

They've only taken a break every forty five minutes, due to how some of the boys are unfit (Frypan has repeatedly told them his querulous reminder every ten minutes that he was a Cook, and that he doesn't do running). They don't have any water left―which they mostly blame on Frypan for finishing it, which is one of the essential problem of their current situation.

Instead of them gulping down fresh water, they struggle to gasp on air, trying to control their uneven breath, heaving in and out breathlessly. Drenched in sweat, breathless, thirsty, they keep on running in spite of everything.

Ilithyia has her sword gripped tightly by her arm as she runs with the others, drenched it sweats like any other boys. She doesn't voice it out, but in some part of the tunnel, there are Cranks―most of them past the Gone and some almost; barely sane―who live in the deeper part of the underground.

And what horrors her, she hears constant footsteps, none belong to any of the males, from behind her whenever they finished their break. That causes her to continously barks the boys to fasten their lazy arse. And whenever she did it, the boys only groaned and uttered their complaints, not knowing the fact that Ilithyia is actually trying not to scare them.

"Can," Ilithyia hears Frypan gulps in an air breathlessly from her place, managing to speak between breaths, "we. . take. . a. . break. .?"

"I. . wasn't. . a Runner. . as well," Aris, who Ilithyia recognised easily earlier, seems to be as out of breath like the rest of the Subjects. Gasping to take in as much air he can. "So please. ."

Ilithyia finally stops on her track, others following swiftly. She turns to face the boys, "make it quick. We're out of schedule because of you lazy arses."

She rolls her eyes when relieve groans and a 'hallelujah' (who she suspects coming from Frypan himself) break down from the males. She slips her sword in its scabbard while she too tries to control her breathing.

"Ya know," Jorge says between breaths, body leant forwards, hands on his knees, prompting him from falling. "For a Crank who runs away from those who past the Gone, I'm hella out of shape."

"She's barely drenched in sweat!" Newt complains, his body leant against the wall as he struggles to find his composure to breath. The torch he's holding shinning the dull concrete. "What the shuck?"

"You would make a great Runner if ya were in the Glade." Minho says, the signature smirk appearing on his face again as he looks up through his lashes, having been bent forward with his hands on his knees in a position like Jorge's. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were the one elected to be the shuckin' Keeper."

"'Shank', 'shuck', 'slinthead'," Jorge lists, his breath returning in rhythm, straightening his posture. "You boys and your languages."

"Mostly mine." Minho smiles, nodding at the end as though he's proud of what he said.

"Well, you need someone to teach you proper language." Ilithyia comments while checking the wall for the mark she left when she and Brenda explored the underground tunnel.