Tired of Running

40|| the final exam

// we can meet
again somewhere;
somewhere far
away from here \\

    •
    Harper screamed as she landed on top of Newt.  He grunted, struggling to his feet.
Minho came tumbling down, falling on Harper, followed by Winston.  The pile of gladers tussled around, climbing off each other and standing to their feet.  They looked around.
On both sides, there was glass.  Faces peered through the glass; screens in front of them, just watching the kids.  Harper felt anger boiling inside of her.  They were watching.  Everything.
They could have stopped it– could have prevented so much death. 

"HEY!"  Harper yelled at the glass; blank faces just staring back.  "I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY!"
Tears streamed down her face as she glared.
A door cracking averted her attention.
Twenty feet in front of them, stood a woman.
But the person next to her, made Harper's heart stop.  "Gally?!"
The boy was trembling, a gun in his hand.
Harper backed up, her back pressed against Minho.  "Whoa..." Minho tensed up, still holding his own weapon.  Gally's eyes just stared straight, bearing in to Thomas.
"You think you can just leave?  No...
They aren't going to let you...
Not like this."  

The boy's finger twitched dangerously, resting on the trigger.  Harper took in a deep breath; whatever this was, there was something wrong with him.  "Gally... It's okay... We—"
Before she could speak another word, a gunshot was fired.  Newt instinctively grabbed Harper, dropping to the ground.  Minho had reared back and thrown his knife; it found a home, sinking deep into Gally's chest. 
Harper had screamed, not knowing what had happened.  She was on her feet again instantly, Newt clinging to her arm. 

    Thomas was screaming; a broken, muffled sob.  Harper only needed to take a few steps past the swarm to know why.  Chuck lay on the ground, head in Thomas's lap, blood pouring from his stomach.  Harper's head started spinning, the room went blurry.  Newt held a hand over his mouth, his eyes exhausted filled with tears.  He squeezed Harper with his free hand and closed his eyes tightly.  He didn't want to see any more death.  Chuck was saying something, but his voice was fading, too quiet for anyone but Thomas.  Harper didn't need to watch any longer.  She buried her face against Newt's chest, squeezing her eyes shut.  After everything- they had all made it.  But now she was going to lose Chuck.  And Gally.  Friends had killed friends today; she felt numb.

Thomas was yelling now, shaking Chuck, in a desperate attempt to wake him.  He held the boy in his arms, sobbing- his broken voice just repeating his name over and over and over.
It was silent; all the gladers mourning in their own way; the only sounds were from Thomas.
They had made it out, they had fought past a pack of grievers; but none of that seemed important now.  How many more had to die?
There wasn't even a fourth of them left. 

    Gunshots once again broke through the air, sending everyone to the floor; ducking in cover.
Newt looked up to see the creators- WICKED- the people behind the glass; had all fallen.  Blood painted the windows, bodies covering the floor.  The door once again opened, this time figures in all black entered the room.
Masks covered their faces, guns in their hands.
They made for the kids, grabbing them by the shoulders.  No one had any energy left to put up a fight. 

The people rushed the gladers on to a helicopter; urging them to be quick.
Harper's head spun; the blinding sun threatening to take her consciousness.
She climbed inside, crawling across the open carriage.  Having no fight left, and feeling completely numb and exhausted, she pressed herself against Newt; curling up in a ball and resting her head on his lap.  His strong arms quickly found their way around her, and sleep took her quicker than ever before.