Chariot | Group B → The Scorch Trials²

ii.twenty-four

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● [ ii . continued ]

Gwen's ankle was strained badly enough that every rung of the ladder felt like a hike.

Getting her under the Berg had been a struggle. Getting her out was something else entirely. Gwen had to rely on her good leg and Rogue's strength, and Rogue had to haul them both upward while the metal ladder shook beneath their weight.

"Sorry," Gwen muttered for the tenth time as her ankle twisted.

"Stop apologising," Rogue said through clenched teeth. Her arms were trembling, sweat slicking her palms. "You're allowed to be injured."

She shifted Gwen's body again, bracing her shoulder under Gwen's arm, and dragged them up the last few rungs with a strangled grunt. Rogue's elbows burned as they reached the ground level. Finally, they tipped forward and collapsed onto the metal floor of the cargo hold.

For a moment, Rogue just lay there, chest heaving, staring up at the harsh white lights overhead. Gwen rolled onto her side beside her, face pale and damp.

Then Rogue pushed herself upright and took in the scene around them. The cargo hold was almost empty. Where there had once been shouting and subjects and guns, there was space. Wide, open space. Only a handful of people moved in and out of a small door at the back of the hold, their footsteps ringing softly against the ground. Crates were stacked neatly now.

Rogue got to her feet and slung her arm firmly around Gwen's shoulders before she could protest. They limped forward together.

Minho was leaning against a crate nearby, arms folded, looking irritatingly upright and intact. His hair was dry now, and his clothes were no longer coated in mud. Compared to Rogue, he looked unfairly fine.

"Thanks for the help," she said bitterly.

"Any time," Minho joked back.

She turned to him, eyes narrowed. "How did you know we were down there?" Her voice came out sterner than she meant it to.

Minho straightened, answering like he'd been waiting for the question. "That Harriet chick told me. Asked me to grab you." He tilted his head, eyes flicking between the two of them. "You look like klunk, by the way."

"Feeling matches," Gwen said dryly.

"What happened here?" Rogue asked, ignoring his attempt to banter. "Like with the ginger man and Thomas and Brenda?"

Minho shrugged his shoulders once. "Thomas got hold of that ugly shuck's gun and shot him right in the schnoz. Killed the rest of 'em, too."

For a heartbeat, the noise of the Berg seemed to fade out. "He shot him," Rogue repeated fatly.

Minho watched her face closely. She didn't ask any further questions. She didn't know whether to believe him. There was no blood on the floor, they hadn't heard a gunshot... It was almost impossible for Thomas to have killed everyone occupying the Berg. But then again—

Minho burst out laughing.

He bent slightly at the waist, hands braced on his knees, shaking his head like he couldn't help himself. "Man, you should've seen your face."

Rogue didn't smile.

"I'm joking, dude," Minho said, coming up again. "Nah, we threatened the guy a bit. He backed off. Think that deal covers your friend too." He flung a lazy arm in Gwen's direction.

Gwen looked up at him and smiled. Minho blinked, then smiled back.

Rogue let out a breath. "Okay," she said, relief softening her tone. "Then, where is everyone now?"