Run With Me ➵ Newt [2]

FOURTEEN | the betrayal

▬I woke up with a jolt, a loud throbbing in my head. I felt something tug at my arms and I realized that someone was tying my arms back.

I struggled immediately, trying to ignore the pain that shot through my limbs, and whoever was tying me kicked me in the back and a pained cry escaped my lips.

"Quiet down!" They ordered. "You move again I'll shoot you!"

I stilled, fuming. The WICKED guard pulled me to my feet roughly and pushed me over to one side of the camp, where tons of other people were kneeling on the ground, arms tied back like me. Everyone looked hagged and exhausted, their faces devoid of hope. The guard shoved me to the front row and I knelt on the ground beside Newt, who looker utterly relieved at the sight of me. The guard pulled the back of my shirt down slightly and scanned the tattoo on my neck with a device.

"A3," he announced aloud.

"Are you alright?" Newt asked me quietly as soon as the guard walked away.

"Yeah," I muttered.

I glanced around The Right Arm's base. Everything had been destroyed, either by the explosions or trampled beneath the chaos from earlier. Though the raging inferno had died down, smoke tendrils curled into the air as a result of the aftermath, disappearing into the night gloom. I looked to my right down the row of tied-up people and was relieved to find that all my friends were unharmed - all except for one.

I frowned as I realized someone was missing from our numbers. Where was Teresa?

"How many did we get?" A familiar voice said.

My head shot around, and lo and behold - I spotted Janson walking towards a WICKED scientist, who was typing in something on a machine screen.

"All of 'em, give or take," he answered.

"Give or take what?" Janson demanded as he walked around, observing us.

"Well, we lost a few, but we still got most of them."

Janson walked around again, his cold, steely eyes sweeping across our weary faces emotionlessly. The guards continued scanning our tattoos, announcing our codes for the WICKED scientist to key in.

"Where's Thomas?" Rat Man said loudly, glancing around with narrowed eyes.

"Right here."

Heads spun towards the voice and mutters broke out among the crowd. Thomas walked into view, holding his hands up, his face tense. The nearby guards approached him with their guns up, but there was no need. Thomas wasn't putting up a fight. I wanted to scream at him to run, to stop being such a fucking idiot, but I knew I would get shot if I did that.

One of the guards shoved Thomas forward and tied his hands behind his back. He forced him down on the ground next to Minho, who looked just as shell shocked as I felt. Janson, looking annoyingly satisfied, turned to the WICKED scientist and muttered something to him - the latter nodded and keyed in some more stuff into his machine.

"Why didn't you run?" I heard Minho whisper to Thomas.

There was a pause.

"I'm tired of running," came Thomas' weary voice.

Before we could pelt him with more questions, we heard the roar of engines above us. We squinted up at the night sky, trying to locate the source of the noise. Then a Berg - much bigger and more sophiscated-looking than the ones that had blown up the camp - emerged from the clouds and flew towards us. We got hit with a full blast of wind as the Berg set down before us, its propellers spinning and spotlights dancing. Sand and dust swirled around us ferociously and we looked away, coughing. The engines died down; we watched as the hatch door opened with a hiss and a whirr. Four guards standing in rows marched forward, their boots thumping heavily on the metal door and onto the ground. A tall figure walked behind them.