SOJOURNER (III): tmr gally

30: I should tell him

Dawn 30

The sun should be well into the sky, but there are clouds brewing overhead. We can't afford to stop so I'm thankful for the shade. It feels like 3:00 AM. It's as if I'm living in a different time zone. My sleep is so screwy, and we've lost so much time dealing with Thomas. Nothing to show for that anyway, since he was abducted right out from underneath us.

I'm too tired to talk. In fact, I can barely keep my eyes open. I glance over to Brenda next to me. She looks up, before looking back down at her feet. Her animosity might actually drive me up a wall.

"You know," I begin, looking her up and down. "I'm not shacking Thomas."

"Yeah," she nods up ahead, her dark brown hair falling in her face. "I had noticed you were all over him." She points across the group at Minho, who is leading the way.

Minho looks like nothing but a shadow beneath the sky. I wish for nothing more than to actually recognize him. The distance between us is nothing new. He is trudging along, whispering to Newt. Lately, it's felt as if we were only existing in the same space. There aren't thoughts or feelings we are sharing, or anything individual. Just for us. My hands slots into his, and we move forward. Silently. Excruciatingly.

I don't answer her, since there isn't much I can offer. It's the only reason I can think of that would make her so bitter towards me. I honestly don't get it.

"He's liked you for a while," she nods up to him. Her face is so neutral and difficult to read. Her eyes are squinting, but I attribute that to the exhaustion that plagues her body. It causes her hands to sink closer to the ground.

"Minho?" I ask, looking forward.

"Yeah," she nods. "How long have you been together?"

I shrug. "Times been moving oddly. Two months, maybe? I don't even know."

She offers a lose smile, looking down at the ground. Her smile lines melt into the bags under her eyes. Her skin cracks since it is so dry. I move to offer her some of my water, but she pulls a bottle out of her pocket and drinks.

"It seems," she swallows, pausing, "as though you two have been together much longer. Years, even."

She doesn't elaborate to this point, choosing to trudge forward into the Scorch. We have only just left the town, maybe ten minutes ago. My feet trudge through the sand, kicking it up into the air.

Brenda stops, and I am barely paying enough attention to stop in time. She looks across our group, over to Jorge. He stands still, his hands perched forward in defense. Staring up at the sky.

"Minho," I call out.

He and Newt turn around. Newt's face is contorted in confusion, while Minho just stares at me. I gesture over to Jorge, and Minho's eyes flick away.

"What is it?" Minho asks, his stance tightening. He steps, every muscle in his body rigid, over to Jorge. Moving next to the man, waiting for his reaction.

The sky rumbles above us. Jorge drops his arms.

"Run," he instructs.

Minho is charging out behind him, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me back towards the town. We've got to be close to a kilometre off, at this point.

Lighting cracks down to the Earth, a few feet in front of us. It sends sand up into a mess around us, clouding in circles. Minho throws me away from the lightning, and I roll across the sand. I dig my hands into the ground, pulling myself up and running.