Sanction -Minho-

Chapter 52

They had to abandon the car as they approached the city. People were living in the destroyed buildings. They couldn't drive, but they could walk. So, that's what they did. They walked. Grace kept her eyes forward as they brushed past unknown people. Nobody paid them any attention. The voices were loud, almost deafening. She could barely hear her own thoughts.

Thomas led the group through the crowd. Grace walked beside Brenda, eyes forward as they headed in the direction of the city. "This place has gone to hell," Jorge commented.

Grace hadn't seen it before and wouldn't know but agreed that the place wasn't pleasant. It was dirty and full of people who smelled. But there were worse things. Grace just wanted Minho back.

"We just need to stay together," Thomas responded. It was safer if they stayed close to each other.

"We are the voice of the voiceless," a voice shouted through a megaphone. "They hide behind their walls." The group looked back, noticing a car driving toward them. "They think they can keep the cure for themselves while letting us rot!" The group stepped to the side, not wanting to get hit by the car. Grace stared at the men on the back of the vehicle. They were all holding guns and wearing masks that covered their faces. "There are more of us than there are of them." People were cheering for them. "I say we rise up and take back what is ours!" The cars drove away from them. Grace followed her brother again. They didn't have time to deal with whatever issues the group around them had. All they wanted was to find Minho. "Let's bring back victory!"

"Come on," Grace said. They had to keep moving. Newt went to her side, keeping an eye on her. Her judgment was clouded by her desperation to save Minho. He understood, but that didn't mean he worried less.

Thomas ducked through a tunnel, which they went through as well. It wasn't dark. The light from the other side guided them. On the other side of the building was a crowd of protestors. They were screaming, but the words blended together.

"That's it," Thomas declared. "That's our way in." But there wasn't a way, just a crowd forming at a barrier. As always, the group followed him.

Grace glanced at Newt. "I think this is the wrong way," she spoke only to him. She didn't want to go against Thomas, but this felt wrong. There were hundreds gathered, all wanting to enter the city. How were they going to find a way in that others couldn't?

"Just keep going." Newt agreed with her but kept his mouth shut. Many people held signs, desperately cheering and begging to be let inside the city.

As they pushed through the people, the group began to split up. Grace could barely see over the people in front of her. Thomas, Jorge, and Brenda were lost in the sea of people. Luckily, Brenda waved her hand, trying to get their attention. "What the hell did we get ourselves into?" The comment came from Frypan.

Grace agreed with him. This plan didn't feel right. "Just keep going!" For now, that was all they could do.

They kept walking. Grace stared at the wall that separated them from the city. On the other side was Minho. He was in there somewhere. She was sure of it. Suddenly, Newt draped an arm over her shoulders. The action took her by surprise. She shot him a questioning glance. Newt jutted his head behind him. Her attention shifted to whatever he was referring to. It was easy to spot. The men from the trucks were following them, their faces covered by their masks. "Shit."

"There are more to the right." Grace didn't look because she didn't need to. It was clear they were being followed, but the reason was unknown. They weren't WICKED soldiers, so what did they want with them? "Go." Newt pushed Grace in front of him as they fought to get to Thomas's side. The others around were throwing objects at the city walls but weren't close enough to do any damage. The others had fought their way to the very front of the crowd. "Guys!" Newt grabbed Jorge and Thomas. "We have to go. Look." The people following them were getting closer. Jorge pulled out his gun, ready to fight. Grace wasn't prepared for a fight.