Like Ashes We Fall

Chapter Two

I woke at dawn.

I eased myself up, the watery morning light barely shining through the tent.  I tried not to dwell on the empty side of the bed, a place Minho usually would have occupied.  I still wasn't used to the extra space, my body naturally staying to my side, occasionally during the night rolling over to seek his warmth.

But it wasn't there.

My stomach gave a slight twinge of pain but I pushed it away.  Two months later and the wound was nearly gone, save for a small sting here or there. the scar tissue making itself known.  I had full range of motion-which was good.  Not that I would have let the wound stop me. 

I cast a glance across the dim tent.  Frypan was sleeping, arm thrown over the edge of the hammock.  Newt was adjacent to him, blankets pulled up to his chin.  Thomas dangled in his own hammock a few feet away.  Last month, most of the Right Arm had moved on and left the mountain camp to reach the safe haven.  We'd made the decision to make Chuck go with them.  It was safer and he'd finally be free- be home.

Newt, Frypan, Thomas, Vince, me and a dozen others had stayed behind.  Hidden, watching and planning.  We'd collected every piece of information we could on WCKD and where Minho was being held.  Devised so many plans it was unfathomable.  Calculated every objective, every obstacle. 

Two months. 

He'd been with them two months.  I swallowed around the lump in my throat.  It was too long, there was so much they could've done to him in that time.  But we were going as fast as we could.  Infiltrating WCKD wasn't an easy task.  But in two days' time, we'd be within WCKD's own walls.  And hopefully, burn them to the ground. 

I pushed myself up and off the bed, the small structure squeaking at my movement.  Newt stirred, blinking open his eyes.  "Is it morning?"  His voice was groggy.

My wristwatch read 5:00 AM and the grey light of dawn was getting stronger. 

I nodded.  "Yeah." 

He sat up fully, reaching over to shake Frypan and then Thomas awake.  I stepped out of the tent and walked to the edge of the cliff our camp was perched on.  A precarious spot, difficult to reach by anyone-including WCKD.  It was well hidden.  I gazed out at the reddish tan of the valley below us, a vast wasteland of desert.  The Scorch. 

"You ready for this?" 

Vince appeared on the ledge beside me, arms folded across his chest. 

"Yes."  A one-word answer.  My voice didn't falter.  I wasn't backing down, I was getting Minho back or going to die trying.  I knew my friends saw it the same way. 

Vince clapped a hand on my shoulder.  "Well, I'm glad you're sure of yourself, kid.  We're gonna need that confidence out there." 

There was a pit in my stomach but I refused to acknowledge it.  "We're getting him back." 

Vince nodded.  "How's the wound feeling?"

"It's good.  Healed."  That was a partial truth but close enough.

Vince didn't ask any more questions, turning back to our small makeshift camp.  "We leave in ten!" 

A slight breeze ruffled my dark hair, blowing it over my shoulder.  "We're coming, Minho," I whispered to the Scorch.  "We're coming." 

Newt, Thomas, and Frypan had spilled out of the tent and I walked over to join them.  Together we collapsed the structure, securing the poles and rolling the tough fabric as tightly as possible.  Around us the others were doing the same.  The flickering flames of fires were put out, and most of the food we'd been eating was gone.  We'd planned it to last us just long enough so we wouldn't have to carry much with us.  Water was already bottled and ready to go.  None of us had many belongings.  The clothes on our back plus an extra pair. 

"Here," Vince tossed me a handgun and I caught it, checking the mag before sticking it in the waistband of my pants.  The two months here had proved useful, I'd spent many afternoons shooting at targets in the mountains.  That and learning to ride.  We all had. 

Cars were hard to obtain gas for and only useful for so much.  Horses, however, the ones that hadn't perished in the sun flares or wasteland below were gathered in the mountains and on the other side.  One of the few places left with grass.  Animals were immune to the Flare it seemed. 

We had fifteen or so penned up by our camp.  They were well fed and thriving, also excellent for traveling through the mountains.  So horses would be our chosen mode of transportation.  And escape.  I helped Newt secure the tents to the saddle bag of one horse while Frypan held it by the bridle. 

In half an hour our camp was demolished, the only evidence of our existence the burn-out campfires and patches of eaten-away grass from the horses. 

"Let's go people!"  Vince was already astride his horse and moving. 

I stuck my foot in the stirrup and slung myself up and onto the back of the roan gelding whom I'd affectionately named Kota.  I didn't know his previous name from his first owner but it felt better than just calling him "horse" like Newt.  Kota danced in place, sensing the nerves buzzing about. 

"Easy boy.  You'll get to run soon enough."  I twisted in the saddle to glance back.  Newt sat astride his mare while Thomas and Frypan were behind, each on their own animal.  Perhaps the only time I'd cracked a smile in the two months here was seeing Newt climb atop a horse for the first time.  He'd been terrified. 

I turned to face front as Kota began moving, following the buckskin in front of us.  We moved down the twisting mountain trail, a parade of sorts.  I glanced again out at the Scorch and then at the black smudge of the twisted city to our east.  WCKD's compound hidden within walls and the protection of the lifeless desert. 

"I'm coming, Minho.  I'm coming."  The wind snatched my words away as if it was an invisible messenger going to deliver the promise to Minho himself.