teenage wasteland ;; the maze runner

2.27

florence was pleasantly surprised by bertha. best in the business? maybe not by looks, but that engine had a roar, a defiant growl that only an old gal like bertha could pull off. she had character—a stubborn, unrelenting spirit that matched her name perfectly.

what florence hadn't expected was just how much she'd enjoy car rides. the windows down, her hair whipping back, and the boys behind her grumbling as the wind tangled theirs. the breeze carried its own melody, blending seamlessly with the crackling static of the radio. it wasn't perfect, but it felt alive. free.

jorge, it seemed, shared her enthusiasm. florence caught him grinning behind the wheel, a mischievous glint in his eye as the speedometer needle crept higher. every time she glanced at it, a mix of fear and pride stirred in her chest. jorge was pushing bertha to her limits, and she was holding her own, a stubborn old girl refusing to back down.

florence had claimed the second-row seat behind the passenger side, sammy bundled up next to her. he sat with his arms crossed, his skeptical eyes scanning the rugged terrain outside.

"we should've just found a car from the beginning," sammy sighed, exhaling dramatically. "this is so much faster, and we get to sit down the whole time."

florence chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. "well, that would've been great—if we could have found a car. just be happy we've got one now, you pessimist."

sammy turned his head to eye her, his brows knitting together in confusion. he tilted his chin up, staring into her face. "i don't even know what that means."

florence grinned, biting back a laugh. "it means you like to complain, sammy."

he narrowed his eyes, sitting up straighter in mock offense. "i don't like to complain."

"yeah, yeah," she teased, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge. "keep telling yourself that, bud."

the wind rushed through the open windows, tousling florence's hair as she leaned back in her seat, her eyes half-closed in bliss. the sun was high, but the air was cool, and there was something comforting about the steady hum of the engine beneath her. it was a stark contrast to the chaos of the world they'd been running from—out here, for a moment, there was nothing but the road, bertha, and the people she was with.

jorge glanced at her through the rearview mirror, catching her peaceful expression. "you look like you've found your happy place back there. don't get too comfortable, we're still in the middle of nowhere."

florence smirked. "oh, don't worry, i'm just enjoying the ride. not every day you get to feel like you're flying while sitting down."

"you could pretend you're the queen of the road like bertha, if you want," jorge teased, giving her a sideways grin.

"yeah, except bertha has more character than i do," florence shot back, glancing at the old car with mock admiration. "i'm still working on that part."

"hey!" jorge laughed, offended in an exaggerated way. "bertha's been through some stuff, alright? you don't just get to call her characterless. she's been through fire... literally."

florence raised an eyebrow. "fire?"

jorge nodded solemnly. "it's a long story. but just know, bertha's got more grit than half the people i know."

she snickered, shaking her head. "i'm not sure if i'm supposed to be impressed or terrified."

jorge leaned back, chuckling under his breath. "both. it's a package deal."

the car rolled on in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the wind and the soft static from the radio. florence let out a contented sigh, her gaze falling out the window to the vast stretch of land around them. it wasn't peaceful—nothing about their situation was—but in this brief instant, she almost felt like they were just a group of friends on a road trip, with nothing to worry about except where the next gas station was.