The Death Cure || 1

Chapter Eleven

"You three, don't move!"

"Take it easy."

My heavy booted footsteps clumped in with the soldiers' formation, their chorus of marches blending into one repetitive, torturous motion.

Thomases hand noticeably crept down to the hand gun in his trouser pocket, his fingers etching around a lump in his side.

"Ay don't even think about it! Get on your knees, and put your hands in the air, and fr-"

"Freeze."

Pow pow, thwack!

Two convulsing bodies dropped down next to eachother, their spasming muscles contorting, pulsing with electrodes eroding their structure with inescapable force.

After Gally had taken out the other two guards, we wasted no time running over to the three, dripping wet in the water, each one of them looking just as confused as the other.

"Gally?"

The thump of Gallys mask against the concrete was barely audible through the erratic groans of buildings giving in, imploding towards themselves. Minhos gasp however, was clear cut like a knife through the shockwaves.

"Minho." Gally nodded, casually greeting them. "You guys are nuts."

I took off my mask and chucked it aside, inhaling the contaminated air, concentrated with the Flare, fumes, smoke and decay.

"We'd better go, they'll have this place crawling with soldiers any minute now." Minho looked up at me, even more stunned than before. "Sorry, nice to meet you." I smiled breathlessly, stepping forward and shaking his hand which was dumbfoundedly pointing at me.

✵✵✵

"Well they're definitely pissed." Gally mused, looking up at the massive helicopter from behind the cemented barricades, blockading the roads, infused with soldiers and cranks galore.

"How far are the tunnels?" Thomas asked, keeping one eye on Newt.

"About 12 blocks, just up ahead."

"We can make it." Gally added, reassuringly nodding at the blonde boy, desperately panting to try and satisfy his lungs, but no luck.

"How long has he been like this?"

"He'll be ok. We just gotta get to Brenda." Thomas dodged Minhos question. "She's got the serum." He shook off a jacket to get rid of any extra weight. I decided to do the same as I mentally scolded myself for not thinking to bring a vial with me.

"Why are you even helping us Gally? I put a spear through your chest." Minho asked.

"Yeah, well. Nobody's perfect man." Patting him twice on the shoulder before going over to help Thomas with Newt, Gally smirked, his cheeks curled over his smug lips.

"And who are you?" Minhos eyes scorched into me, looking me up and down with fierce judgement, tempting me to fix my posture or salute him.

"I'm Jack." I smiled briefly, not nearly as friendly as before as I tossed my WCKD jacket to the side.

"Well that clears things up." I had to admit, Gally was good at describing the Gladers. The black haired boy was as realistic as you could get, and his harshness was strangely refreshing, it almost forced a laugh from my dry lungs.

"I'm just a friend of Gallys." I decided, chuckling to myself as I fashioned a somewhat functional halter through my belt, shoving the electric rifle into its new satchel.