little immune {the scorch trials} (request)

˜"*°• 3 •°*"˜

Thomas was terrified.

After the horrors he and his friends went through in the Maze, he thought nothing could possibly scare him more. He was wrong.

During their time trapped inside that immense labyrinth, the only thing keeping the Gladers going was the thought of escaping, of getting back into the world. Now they knew there was no world to go back to. Just endless dunes of sand, running through the wreckage of old cities and communities, covering every inch of the ruined earth. And that awful disease—the Flare, Ava Paige had called it. Apparently it attacked the brain, making those infected go insane. Except the Gladers were supposed to be immune, and WICKED was using them to try and find a cure. 

It was so much to process, Thomas's brain could hardly keep up. He slumped against the wall of the helicopter, his shoulder pressed into his best friend Newt's, who said right beside him. After the Gladers had watched that recording of Ava Paige explaining the situation to them and Gally had made his wild appearance, a bunch of armed guards showed up and loaded them onto a helicopter, claiming that they were saved from WICKED. Thomas wasn't sure he trusted them, but at the moment he didn't have much of a choice.

He thought of Chuck. Poor, sweet, innocent Chuck who deserved so much better. Instead of gaining freedom and seeing his mom again, the boy was shot and killed. And they were so close. They'd have made it if Gally hadn't showed up and ruined everything. Thomas had never liked Gally much. Now he wanted to murder every trace of life out of the guy. Then he remembered that Gally was already dead, thanks to Minho's spear.

Shuck, Thomas was so tired. He let his eyelids droop shut, and soon he was fast asleep.

***

"Thomas! THOMAS! Wake up! We gotta go! Come on!"

Thomas jolted awake to see his friend Minho standing above him, yelling and shaking him awake. They were still in the helicopter, though it had now landed. The sky was pitch black, the only brightness coming from flashlights belonging to the Gladers' rescuers. Thomas was hauled out of the chopper against his will. He resisted. He couldn't leave without his last piece of Chuck.

"Wait, wait, wait!" he yelled, and ran back to the vehicle.

"Where are you going?!" one of the rescuers called out. "We don't have time!"

Thomas ignored him and lunged into the helicopter, frantically feeling around until he found what he was looking for—a small wooden carving Chuck had made back in the Glade, hoping to one day give it to his parents if he ever found them. Right before he died, he gave it to Thomas instead.

Once he had the carving safe in his hand, Thomas let his rescuers pull him away, towards the large structure wedged in the sand. His mouth fell open and his eyes widened when he realized the structure he was running to was actually a giant shipwreck, though it had clearly been modernized.

Suddenly, a low growl from behind made Thomas freeze in fear.

"Cranks!" a man shouted. "We got Cranks!" He and his associates whipped out their guns and began shooting at screaming, misshapen figures approaching from the dark.

Thomas didn't stay to watch the show. He sprinted as fast as he could after his friends into the ship/facility, not daring to stop until the doors were sealed shut behind him.

Once he was inside and safe, he made his way to the front of the Gladers and took in his surroundings. From the inside, the place looked nothing like an old shipwreck. It was a huge warehouse of some kind, full of strange technology and people bustling around, doing their work.

Though they only had about a minute to look before their rescuers ushered them away again.