We All Have Scars

3

"No."

Thomas said it with every ounce of finality and firmness he could muster.

"No?" Jorge repeated, surprised. "I offer you a chance to make it through a city full of vicious Cranks ready to eat you alive, and you say no? To my one itsy-bitsy request? That does not make me happy."

"It wouldn't be smart," Thomas said. I have no clue how he managed to maintain his calm tone. But that was the only way he could survive with Jorge. Jorge likes people like him, the brave ones in this world.

"Is it your goal in life to piss me off until I cut your arteries open one by one?" Maybe not then.

"You saw what he did to you," Thomas countered. "You know the guts that took. If you kill him, you lose the skills he brings. He's our best fighter, and he's not scared of anything. Maybe he's crazy, but we need him."

I could tell Thomas was trying to sound practical. Pragmatic. But really, I bet he just doesn't want to lose a friend. But Jorge never really one for sentiment, especially towards strangers.

"But he made me angry," Jorge said tightly. "He made me look like a little girl in front of my people. And that's not... acceptable."

"So punish him. Make him look like a little girl. But killing him doesn't help us. The more bodies we have that can fight, the better our chances. I mean, you live here. Do I really need to tell you this?"

"Okay," Jorge said. Thank goodness. "Okay. But it has nothing to do with your lame attempt to talk me into it. I'll spare him because I just made my mind up about something. Because of two reasons, actually. One of which you should have thought of yourself."

"What?" Thomas asked, intrigued.

"First off, you don't really know all the details behind this test or experiment or whatever it is that WICKED is putting you through. Maybe the more of you that make it back - to that safe haven - the better chances you have of getting the cure. Ever thought that this Group B you mentioned are probably your competitors? I think it's in my best interests to make sure all eleven of you make it now."

Thomas didn't say anything, so Jorge continued.

"Which leads to my second reason. The thing I've made up my mind about."

"And what's that?" Thomas asked.

"I'm not taking all those Cranks out there with me. With us."

"Huh? Why? I thought the whole point was that you guys could help us fight our way through the city."

"No. If we're gonna do this, stealth will work way better than muscle. We've been sneaking around this hellhole ever since we got here, and I think our chances of making it through - and getting all the food and supplies we need - are way better if we take what we've learned and use it. Tiptoe our way past the long-gone-crazy Cranks instead of slashing through them like a bunch of wannabe warriors."

"You're hard to figure out," Thomas said, and too right. "Not to be rude, but it sure seems like warriors are exactly what you guys want to be. Ya know, based on all the ugly outfits and sharp things."

Ugly outfits?! You try to do better living in the scorch. Jackass.

A long moment of silence passed, and I started thinking Jorge had taken offence like me, when Jorge burst out laughing.

"Oh, muchacho, you're one lucky sucker I like you. Not sure why, but I do. Otherwise I would've killed you three times already."

"Can you do that?" Thomas asked, making me roll my eyes.

"Huh?"

"Kill someone three times."

"I'd figure out a way."

"Then I'll try to be nicer."

I heard the slapping of a table, then someone stood up and Jorge summarised. "Okay. So here's the deal. We need to get all eleven of you punks to your safe haven. To do it, I'm only taking two others - their names are Brenda and Isobel, and they're both geniuses. We need their minds. And if we do make it, and it ends up that there's no cure for us, then I don't think I need to tell you what the consequences will be." He thinks I' a genius?! Score for Isobel!

"Come on," Thomas said sarcastically. "I thought we were friends now."

"Pshh. We ain't friends, hermano. We're partners. I'll deliver you to WICKED. You get me a cure. That's the deal or there's gonna be a whole lot of death."

Someone else stood as well; their chair creaking against the floor. Thomas, I guess, this time

"We already agreed on that, didn't we?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we did. Now listen, don't you dare say a word out there. Getting away from those other Cranks is gonna be... tricky."

"What's the plan?"

Jorge thought for a minute, then broke his silence. "Just keep your tongue-hole shut and let me do my thing." He started to move towards the door, and I took that as my cue to leave, tiptoeing away quickly.

When I got back to the room and flashed a smile at Newt, who gave one back, as I stood next to Brenda.

"What was that about?" Brenda muttered in my ear, so only I could hear.

"I'll tell you later." I whispered back.

"All right, everybody listen!" Jorge announced when they returned. "Me and the bird-face here have come to a resolution." Bird-face?

Everyone stood attention, some Cranks gripping their weapons tightly, glaring at Gladers.

Jorge came to a stop in the middle of the room and slowly turned to address the whole group.

"First, we need to get these people food. I know it seems crazy to share our hard-earned grub with a bunch of strangers, but I think we could use their help. Give 'em the pork and beans - I'm sick of that horse crap anyway." Jack, a skinny runr of a kid sniggered at that. "Second, being the grand gentleman and saint that I am, I've decided not to kill the punk who attacked me." I let out a sigh of relief at that, and Brenda seemed to notice, so I tried to cover it up with a yawn after hearing a few disappointed groans from the further gone Cranks. Brenda just rolled her eyes and shook her head, thinking the noise was idiotic.

Jorge pointed at Minho, who, shockingly, smiled and waved at the crowd.

"Pretty happy, are you?" Jorge grunted. "That's good to know. Means you'll take the news well."

"What news?" Minho asked sharply.

Thomas glanced over at Jorge, as if this wasn't discussed. I certainly didn't hear about it, at least.

Jorge spoke matter-of-factly. "After we get you stragglers fed so you don't go dying of starvation on us, you get to have your punishment for attacking me."

"Oh yeah?" If Minho was scared, he didn't show any sign of it. "And what's that gonna be?"

Jorge just stared back at Minho - a blank expression spread eerily across his face. Then said something that made my jaw drop to the ground. "You punched me with both of your fists. So we're gonna cut a finger off each hand."

A/N: So that was chapter three!!! Let me know what you think if you have time, and thanks for reading. 😄