Chariot | Group B → The Scorch Trials²

ii.nineteen

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● [ ii . continued ]

The fire crackled in the middle of camp, throwing sparks up into the dark. By the late evening, most of the Glenners had already crawled into their shelters, collapsing into sleep. But a handful still lingered, the ones too wired from seeing Rogue alive to even think about closing their eyes.

Someone had unearthed some old, stolen bottles with dusty glass and peeling labels. Wally was already three swigs in and waving her arms like a conductor. She clutched her own bottle proudly, cheeks red from the pure giddiness.

"So then—" Wally announced, "I pick the lock, right? Again, because apparently I'm the only one here with any real talent—"

"You're like... thirteen," Harriet muttered, rubbing her forehead.

"Probably," Wally said smugly, "and yet I am single-handedly keeping us alive."

Alejandra snorted. "The door wasn't even locked, klank-basket. You just kicked it."

"It was jammed," Wally corrected with a dramatic sip. "And I un-jammed it with my foot. You're welcome."

Rogue laughed, leaning back on her elbows. She felt warm. Whether it was the fire, the drink, or her girls, she didn't know. But the comfort was setting in slowly.

Hashslinger pointed at Wally with her bottle. "You should've seen her in those tunnels, Ro. Every time we found a closed door, she'd sprint at it like a Crawler."

Miyoko nodded. "She opened this one storage room and there were like... twenty crates of random junk. And half the tools we're using now."

"And food!" Wally added proudly. "And soap. Which, Rogue—" she leaned forward, wrinkling her nose dramatically, "you still need."

Florence smacked the back of Wally's head lightly. "Be nice."

"Yeah Wally," Rogue mocked, "Be nice!"

"I am being nice," Wally protested. "It's my own special way of saying that I missed you. A whole bunch."

Rogue shoved her with her foot. "I missed you too, you little menace."

Florence moved closer to Rogue. "We really did think you were gone, you know."

Rogue rested her head on Florence's shoulder. "Turns out I'm not that easy to get rid of."

Opposite them, Sonya took a big swig of the bottle and immediately coughed, choking. "God's arse, this tastes like paint-stripper."

"Stop drinking it then," Harriet said.

Sonya wheezed, "Take a day off, babe."

Hashslinger snorted so violently she nearly inhaled the campfire.

"Anything else I missed?" Rogue asked, pulling her knees up. "What about that Crank story, the one you mentioned earlier?"

"Oh!" Miyoko perked up a bit. "We had this one night where we were sure a Crank was following us. Like... sure."

"We could hear it," Hash confirmed. "And we'd had run-ins before, so this time we were ready to fight. We had our weapons up, dramatic hero poses ready—"

"We were not posing," Alejandra cut in flatly.

"You absolutely were," Sonya said. "I saw you, finchface. You looked like you were about to be painted on the side of a van."

Alejandra threw a pebble at her.

"Anyway," Hashslinger said, ignoring them, "turns out it wasn't a Crank at all. It was this little animatronic dog Wally had wound up. Then left. Then forgot she left."