little immune {the scorch trials} (request)

˜"*°• 21 •°*"˜

"Good evening," boomed Janson's voice. "This is the World In Catastrophe: Killzone Experiment Department. We have your compound completely surrounded. You find yourself, though no fault of your own, in possession of WICKED property. Return them to us unharmed and we'll consider this a simple misunderstanding. Or you can resist, and every last one of you will die. It won't be long before the Flare wipes out the rest of us. The hope of a cure lies in your hands. The choice is yours."

As Janson rambled on, Thomas was frantically attempting to lead the Gladers out of that room and toward safety. He tried not not panic yet about Y/n and her strange sudden sickness, for her hand, held tightly in his, felt clammy and cold as ice. They'd have to deal with that at a time when they weren't trying to run for their lives. But then—

The group had to stop dead in their tracks when Jorge's pal from earlier, the one who had been suspicious of the Gladers while they were talking to his boss, appeared in front of them, a loaded shotgun in hand. 

Thomas instinctively raised his arms and inched forward slowly. "We're not trying to cause any trouble, okay? We just gotta get out of here."

"Is that so?" the man replied, grinning diabolically. He did not lower his gun. Then he reached into his pocket and extracted a walkie-talkie, bringing it toward his mouth to speak. "Janson, I got 'em for ya. I'm bringing 'em down. Don't shoot us."

A few seconds later, a gunshot went off in front of the Gladers, and the traitor collapsed to the ground, clutching his wounded chest. Behind him stood Brenda, gripping a pistol, shooting arm still outstretched. In the shock of the moment, Thomas had tightened his hold on Y/n by a lot and latched onto Newt with the other hand. He shook himself out of it and stared at their rescuer.

Brenda jerked her head in the direction of the exit. "Come on! Let's go!"

Thomas hesitated for a second, until remembering that she was probably their best shot at getting out. He ran after her, the others right on his heels.

Only when the music started playing, did Thomas start to worry that he was hallucinating. It was an old song he didn't recognize—not that he really knew any songs—with a woman's voice singing along to a calming beat that sounded so out of place that there was no way it could have been real.

♪ I go walkin' after midnight, 

Just like we used to do ♪

This was not the case, however, which Thomas learned when Brenda finally led the group into Jorge's quarters and the record player spinning a vinyl was visible in the back. But there wasn't much time to linger, for the escape plan was already in action.

"We don't have much time!" Jorge yelled frantically as soon as the Gladers came into view. "Let's go, let's go, let's go! Right this way!"

He led them to an area where part of the wall had been blown out somehow, leading right outside. Directly across was an immense pile of rubble that was a decent spot to hide in temporarily, ensuring that they were concealed from WICKED so they could run away. However, the only way to reach it was by gripping a rope and sliding down a wire, like a zipline, and hoping you didn't fall several stories into the dark abyss below.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me," Frypan muttered.

"Plan B, hermano," said Jorge. "You kids wanna get to the Right Arm? I'll lead you to them. But you're gonna owe me. With that, he grabbed hold of a rope and leaped off the edge, shouting, "Follow me!" as he zipped away.

Brenda rounded the rest of them up after that, sending each person off one by one until only she, Thomas, and Y/n were left. Y/n was beyond terrified. She was already in frail condition, and she had no idea if she could hold the rope for long enough. Taking that route was a huge risk. But, she realized, staying was even worse. Thomas had tried to figure out a way for them to go together, but every attempt was too difficult to master, and they were running out of time. Instead, Thomas tried his best to tie the rope around Y/n so at least she'd have some extra protection.

"I'm not sure how well it'll hold, though," he admitted. "Just hold on as best you can for as long as you can, but just in case, this should help keep you safe. And I'll be right behind you, okay?"

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She nodded and shut her eyes tightly as he pushed her away, and she went soaring through the night. Her hands squeezed the rope like her life depended on it—because it did—and she did not let go until she felt herself land safely in Newt's arms. Only then did she realize how painful it had been; she had to fight not to pass out on the spot right then and there. She turned back to face the way she'd come, waiting for Thomas to come through. Surely he must have left by now; he'd said he would be right behind her. He'd promised. Yet he was nowhere in sight. Not on the zipline. Not even visible in the little crack in the wall, getting ready to cross to the other side. He was gone.