little immune {the scorch trials} (request)

˜"*°• 18 •°*"˜

As nice as sleeping was, it didn't last very long. Before they knew it, the Gladers were up and moving again, continuing their long trek through the hot and droughty scorched desert. No matter how much closer they came to their destination, the mountains still felt like they were a world away.

It was midday when the water ran out. The last bit they had; all gone.

Everyone was moody and miserable; no one spoke for the entire day. Y/n couldn't blame them, and didn't want to break the silence. The last thing she wanted was to make the others annoyed of her.

However, she was experiencing a bit of a problem that might be good to address with one of the older kids. At some point last night, Y/n had begun to feel ill. Her head and stomach ached, and her skin felt cold and clammy. By morning, she'd started to feel a bit better, though as the Gladers continued their journey, she could sense her condition worsening. She tried to ignore it, to convince herself it was only the harsh effects of the desert. The last thing she wanted to do was give Tommy and the others something else to worry about, not on top of every other thing that had happened within the past few days. I'll be fine, she told herself. We'll find the mountain people and then they'll fix me and it'll all be over.

Before they knew it, night had fallen again. The Gladers had laid themselves out on the sand and were all fast asleep, until a low, rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate through the Earth woke them up. A storm was coming.

Everyone instantly jumped to their feet and prepared to set off. "C'mon, guys, we gotta go!" Thomas called, grabbing Y/n with one hand and Newt with the other. They all began to run, sprinting as fast as their legs could carry them.

Unfortunately for Y/n, that was not very fast. Not only was she very small, but she was also growing weaker and more fatigued by the minute. It came to the point where Thomas had to piggy-back her in order to stay with the group.

"Guys, look!" Aris pointed up ahead, where a bunch of artificial lights were illuminating the faintly visible outline of a large building. "It's civilization! We have to go there."

Y/n could have cried with relief. All she wanted was somewhere to stay and rest that would be safe for the time being. She pulled herself together, though. They still had to get through this storm first.

Lightning came down in bolts all around them, striking dangerously close to the Gladers. At first they seemed to be dodging it pretty well, but their luck didn't last forever. An anguished scream sounded as one of the boys was blasted off to the side, electrocuted. Thomas stopped in his tracks as he realized who it was,

"MINHO!"

He shoved Y/n off as carefully as he could and ran back for his friend, Newt and Aris right on his heels. Teresa grabbed hold of the little girl as the three older boys lifted Minho and attempted to haul him into the structure. Frypan held the door open as he let everyone inside, then shut it behind them all.

Instantly, they were thrown into pitch darkness. Newt clicked on his flashlight quickly, bending down to assist Thomas in waking up Minho. For a long time—though it was impossible to tell exactly how long—their lightning-struck friend remained unconscious and unresponsive. Finally, Minho took a shallow, shaky breath, then another, then another, until his eyes fluttered open. The Gladers all sighed and chuckled with relief, content to know that the former Runner would be okay.

"What happened?" Minho groaned, appearing genuinely confused at all the faces staring down at him.

"You got struck by lightning," Thomas explained, still looking worried, but also a little bit amused.

Minho leaned back down on his head and gave a crooked grin. "Oh."

Thomas and Newt exchanged a concerned glance before both of their faces split into a pair of mischievous smiles to match Minho's.

"Come on," Thomas said, "let's get him up."

Once Minho was on his own two feet and able to move without aid, the group started to recognize their surroundings a bit more. Not recognize, exactly; more like, they started to realize the strangeness of this new shelter.

It was Teresa who noticed and brought it up first. "Hey, guys?" she called. "What's that smell?"

As if on cue, something growling rabidly and ferociously that did, in fact, smell worse than a rotting corpse lashed out at the kids, clearly hungry for its next meal. It was a Crank.