The Scorching Heat

8

Nightfall came quicker than you'd expected, bringing your long day of running to a close.

Minho had chosen an abandoned pub to set up camp for the night. You thought it was silly really, pubs were a common place for cranks, but it seemed like none had taken up residence here, so you figured you'd be alright for the evening.

You were definitely not staying up to keep guard tonight. Thomas gave that role to a boy named Charlie and another named James. They both seemed happy to be spending time with one another so you didn't feel so guilty for wanting to sleep.

You scouted around and found a corner booth and curled yourself up into the cushions. The night was young but the time didn't matter to you, you could've slept for days right there.

Your eyes slowly fluttered to a close and the noise around you faded out. You managed to sleep but not for long, not until you heard that ear splitting drawl... a drawl that meant nothing good.

You snapped yourself awake, picking up your gun immediately. Cranks were near, you knew it.

It was darker out now, but it was never really that dark on the scorch. You'd be able to spot the cranks in this light without a problem.

With achy joints, you made your through the mounds of sleeping boys until you found the exit. Then you pricked your ears, listening for those gut wrenching sounds.

There they were again.
Only closer.

You gripped your gun firmly as you patrolled the perimeter, realising that the two boys who were meant to be on guard had fallen asleep in a similar fashion to you and Newt last night.

You smiled at the two boys. They looked so peaceful when they were sleeping. They looked so happy.

You knew they were dreaming of nothing on this world.

But then, you heard the noise again.

You cocked your gun, holding it tightly as you turned the corner, finding a horrific sight pressed up against the right wall.

A crank.

Past the gone.

Just one of them.

It's face was deformed, the skin was mutilated and it only had one eyeball. It must've ripped the other out. It was missing an arm, but that didn't make it any less violent.

The moment it lunged for you was when you let your bullets rip. The lead plunged into its flesh, sending it sprawling back, squealing. You winced as you put another bullet in its skull, watching in horror as it writhed and screamed until it stopped moving completely.

Then there was silence.

The sort that crept up on you, and you could only hear the sound of your own breathing

That was until you heard footsteps behind you.

You immediately spun your gun around, ready to eliminate the next threat, but then you realised it wasn't a crank at all.

It was Newt.

"Y/n! Y/n! Are you okay?"

Genuine worry flashed across his face, his eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were pursed.

"I'm fine." You replied, but you weren't.

You were so tired, and this crank had just taken the last of your energy. You stumbled backwards, suddenly feeling faint.

Your vision started to go cloudy, filling with black spots. "Actually," You added, "Maybe I'm not fine."

Then your body went limp and everything went dark. You just hoped that Newt would manage to catch you before you fell.