Chariot | Group B → The Scorch Trials

― PROLOGUE

[ 222.7.13 ]

THE BRIGHT LIGHTS seared into Kowhai's eyes as she stumbled towards the iron gates, her legs weak from the long walk.

Her sister was nestled in her arms, tiny fists gripping her shirt and soft whimpers the only sound in the still night.

The gates were heavily guarded-men as tall as mountains, rifles slung across their chests, their eyes cold and distant. None of them acknowledged Kowhai's approach.

Kowhai squinted up at the nearest guard, but he didn't move. His face was unreadable; a statue carved from stone.

'Please,' Kowhai croaked. 'It killed my mommy. It killed my daddy, too.'

The guard didn't shift. Then, the static crackle of a walkie-talkie: 'What's going on out there?'

Kowhai's felt her heart pound beneath her ribcage. They had walked so far-miles upon miles, her feet blistered, her body worn down-but this was her only chance. She couldn't go back. There was nothing for them to go back to.

The guard spoke into the device. 'Two girls. One looks about nine, ten years old. The other's younger—a baby, sir.'

'Are they Immune?'

The guard's stare fell on Kowhai. 'Immune?'

Kowhai glanced at Shai, her sweet sister. What answer would give them the best chance? Her mother had always told her not to lie, but as the seconds dragged on, the guard grew impatient. 'Answer,' he demanded.

Finally, Kowhai shook her head. 'No.'

The man relayed it through the walkie-talkie. 'They're not, sir.'

'Turn them away.'

'No, please!' Kowhai cried, her voice breaking. Her sister began to squirm in her arms, her little hands tugging at Kowhai's hair. 'Please, take us!'

Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot and uncontrollable. Exhaustion, grief, loss. Her face, plump and flushed, burned with desperation. 'I don't care what you do with me. I can't do this alone.'

The guard didn't move, didn't speak. He stared straight ahead, indifferent to her pleas.

Then, her sister cried. Her wails grew louder and louder, her chubby face scrunched in distress. Kowhai ran a trembling hand over her sister's head. 'Please, she's just one. Just her birthday a few days ago. She's only little, only one.'

Kowhai's voice was a broken whisper now. 'Just take her. Take her,' she begged, trying to push her into the arms of the guard. He remained motionless. Her arms shook as they tired. The wails were ceaseless.

'Please,' she said again. 'Her name's Shai. Shai Lun. She needs to be safe.'

Kowhai's mind raced. Her desperation had reached its peak, and she felt a reckless urge to do something-anything-to save Shai. But she was too small, too tired to force her way in, to run and dodge. She'd be shot down in a matter of seconds.

It was her last resort.

She straightened up, wiping her tears and snot with the back of her hand. 'You can use me,' she said. Her voice had suddenly steadied.

The guard locked eyes with her. He pressed a button on his device. The hiss of static rang out.

'I know what you do,' Kowhai continued, pointing at herself. 'Not immune, but strong. I'm fast. I'll do whatever you need. Just... please. Take her. Grow her up to be safe.'

The guard hesitated, then brought the walkie-talkie up to his mouth. 'What do you think, Mr. Anderson, sir?'

A long silence followed. Kowhai held her breath, each second stretching into infinity. Her grip on Shai tightened. She felt the weight of this moment, the fragility of it. This was it. This decision.

Finally, the voice crackled back.

'Let them in.'

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