Why Can't I Hate You?

~23~

We didn't talk after. Or even really look at each other. Just walked, one by one, single file, trying not to think too much. When the gunshot went off, we paused. As if we were giving him his own minute of silence.

It got dark quickly, so we made a fire and decided to rest for the night. No one spoke still. Although it was boiling during the day, the nights were cold, and I was grateful for the warmth of the fire.

"I thought we couldn't get infected." Minho was the first to speak.

"Not all of us, I guess." Teresa stared into the fire.

"If Winston can get infected, we should assume so can the rest of us." Newt said. He glanced at me, and I looked down.

The possibility of some of us not being immune sent shivers down my spine. I might not be immune. I could suffer the same fate as Winston, any of us could. Although, my bite wound completely healed, unlike Winstons. Perhaps that means I am immune. I hoped it did.

When the fire was put out, I tried to sleep, but all I could think about was the possibility of the flare being inside me. Coursing through my bloodstream, taking over my body.

I was woken up again by Thomas, who was pointing into the darkness. "Look! We made it!"  

Faint lights, a building. People. Then, a roar of thunder erupted from the sky. It turned grey, making it even darker and harder to see. A bolt of lightening struck across the grey.

"We gotta go." Thomas said to himself, then to us."Come on, we've gotta go!'

Picking up our backpacks, we moved quickly towards the building. Another lightning bolt struck the ground to the left of us.

"Keep moving!" Thomas shouted.

The building got closer, but the thunder got louder. Threatening to attack us at any moment. Another bolt hit an old, rusting car, making an awful sound. We were so close now, almost there.

Another lightening bolt struck. This time, hitting one of us. Minho laid motionless on the ground.

"Minho!" I ran over to him, rolling him onto his back to check if he was breathing.

"Y/n go, we've got him!" Thomas threw Minho's arm over his shoulder and Newt the other. Dragging him along. Fry was already at the door, holding it open and encouraging us to hurry up.

Finally, we made it into the building. Sheltered from the storm. We used our torches to see if Minho was ok. He still wasn't moving.

"Minho?"

"Come on, man."

He let out a long groan, and we all sighed in relief. "What happened?"

"You got struck by lightning." Thomas said.

"Ugh." He grimaced, making us laugh.

I helped him back up onto his feet. The room was black, the only light we had was from our small torches.

"What do you think this place -" Aris started, then big lights flashed on, making us squint from the brightness.

A man was in the room with us. A manic smile stretched across his face. "Food?"

I moved closer to the others. Where did he even come from?

"I'm Jorge." He waited for a response, but none of us answered,"afraid of a crank hermano? Scared I'm going to rip your eyeballs out for a snack?"

I wasn't quite sure if he was real at first. Perhaps he was just a figure of my imagination, a side effect from heat stroke. But the others were seeing him too.

"You're admitting to being one of those... things." Minho sneered.

It wasn't the first time we had heard the word crank, but before, we didn't have a definite meaning for it. If this man was one of them, we were in bother.

"We're all cranks around here, my friends. Don't worry, I wouldn't eat your eyeballs unless you were dead."

"How many of you are there?" Newt urged.

He laughed like a madman. "That's not the way things work around here, hermano. Comprende? Those at disadvantage speak first. I want to know who you are, where you came from, and why you're here."

"You're batshit insane," Minho mocked. "we're the ones at a disadvantage? There are seven of us and one of you, maybe you should start talking."

I wished Minho had kept his mouth shut. Jorge stared at him for a long time. "You didn't just say that to me. You didn't just talk to me like some dog. I'll give you ten seconds to apologise."

Minho scoffed. He wasn't the type of person to apologise.

"One. Two. Three."

I shot him a look of warning, but he just stood with his arms crossed, smirking.

"Four. Five. Six."

There was a flash of movement from above, in the holes in the ceiling. Minho had seen it too because his smirk faded.

"Seven. Eight. Nine."

"I'm sorry." He gritted his teeth.

"I don't think you meant that." Jorge kicked Minho in the shin.

He held his leg in pain.

"Say it with meaning."

"I'm sorry." He said again, with more anger than empathy.

"Say it with meaning!" He kicked him again, harder.

"I'm... sorry." Clearly humiliated, Minho cluched his leg in defeat.

Jorge smirked with satisfaction, but that lasted all about ten seconds before Minho was on him. He got him onto the floor and smashed his knuckles into his face over and over, trapping him with his legs.

"Minho, stop!" I yelled at him.

Ropes dropped from above us, and then people were surrounding us, with weapons in hand, ranging from guns to pocket knives.
Thomas slammed himself into Minho to stop him. "Stop! They'll kill us all!"

Jorge got up, wiping away the blood that was trickling from the corner of his mouth and nose.

Thomas held his hands up in peace. "Look, it won't do you any good harming us. We're valuable. Alive, not dead."

I wasn't sure where he was going with this, but I didn't think letting these people know about our immunity was such a good idea.

"Ten minutes. Me and you, alone, just to talk. That's all I ask."

It felt like a lifetime before he responded, "Ten minutes," then he spoke to his flock. "Stay and watch the rest of them. If I give the word, kill them all."