Just like the Griever's Hole, the dead men hung by hooks, the Rat Man, the Cranks and the brick walls, Minho had hopes that Frankie's death was just another illusion. As much as he tried to distance himself from disappointment, this was one thing he...
A/N Wow! I'll just update the story every two days ^^ How about that?
I'm sorry I can't reply to your comments one by one, but I read them all *wink wink*
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"YOU TRYING TO run away, Jorge?"
The Crank named Barkley said, leading the other past-gones. He had armed everyone with some sort of handmade weapons (twigs, branches, broken cloth hangers, screwdrivers, whatever) while he had a rusty gun in his hand. He stood triumphantly, facing the group.
"You trying to eat everything and leave us starving? Where are ya going, huh?"
"I told you to wait at the Tower at noon!" Jorge barked, "Now you're playing with explosives!"
"Brenda and one of those guys are separated because of you!"
Barkley scoffed, "That's just an excuse. If you're really goin' to execute this folks, why don't you do it here?"
The other fifteen to twenty Cranks hooted and hollered in agreement, parading the weapons within their hands.
Frankie noticed Jorge's eyes darting towards her and Reggie before he said, "Alright. I guess we'll just have a private moment here instead of showing what WICKED's children should get in front of the others."
"Do it, then," the Crank challenged.
"Oh, no. I'm not going to destroy my good clothes with their blood." Jorge grinned, barring his yellow teeth, "Frances and Reggie are doing it for me."
Frankie blinked.
She followed what Reggie did: lifted up her tee, pulled out a loaded gun hidden in the nook of her pants, and pointed it towards a Glader's head. Reggie pointed his to Jacob's with a smirk (the latter's eyes widened and he yelped, raising both hands in surrender) while Frankie expressionlessly pointed hers to Newt's.
Newt jerked once and he gaped, but his eyes were glued to hers.
She tilted her head a bit.
Was this a chance for revenge? To pay back for what they had done —leaving her alone to fend for herself? To demand an explanation? To make them beg for her help, which they had discarded when they threw her out of the Maze to die?
"Frankie..." came out of Newt's lips hoarsely.
The Cranks hooted once more and she smirked.
In one swift motion, she pulled the trigger —after her hand shifted a little bit to the right, and the bullet hit Barkley straight on the chest.
〰️
MINHO TRIED CONVINCING himself that he had never doubted her. But he did.
When she squinted her eyes and stared at them with calculating looks, he really thought she would be the death of them.
After all this effort and time, his survival depended on his long lost best friend.
He held in his breath when the first sound of gun boomed and he half-expected Newt's brain to splatter against his face.
Instead, he felt like a kid, sitting cross-legged on the floor while watching an action movie, where the hero and heroine killed every hazardous creatures with the limited weaponries they possessed. What was that show? Did he really watch it back when he was a kid?
Knife after knife appeared from different hiding spots in her body and she planted their tips in Cranks' heads without so much of a twitch. Reggie and her did murders like dancing. Hopping here and there to protect the Gladers while delivering fatal blows to anyone who dared to come forth.
A knife clattered without its master near his foot. Minho stared at it for some good seconds before deciding that he should help.
He reached out to it and looked around. A Crank was making its furious way towards Frankie behind her back, while she was battling three zombies at once.
He flipped it around in his hand, getting the feeling of it, and found himself back in the Glade.
One second, he was training in the Map Room.
Next, he was swinging his arm back when a dirty boot found its way over his hand and pinned it to the ground.
"Don't."
Minho groaned due to his awkward position. He looked up to see Jorge, standing with his arms folded. The latter repeated, "Don't. It's their part now."
"Well, I could help."
"If you wanna help, believe me, don't."
As much as he hated the guy, something within his tone made him realize that there was probably a bigger plot in play. One he didn't know. Yet.
(Of course, once this was over, he would demand every detail out of this shucking dude)
Inhumane chorus of screeches and chatters filled the air for another few minutes. It only felt like seconds, though. Before he knew it, the battle was over.
Frankie and Reggie stood back to back, chest heaving heavily.
"Bravo!" Jorge clapped once, twice, thrice, "You two never disappoint."
"We've played our parts," Reggie said as he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, "Now, tell us your plan."
He began picking on used knives all around the room and cleaning them with the fabric.
"We better move first."
"Not a chance. Tell us or we're not moving."
"Come on!" Jorge grunted, "Cranks are coming. We all might get killed!"
"Well. Guess what, old man? We're Cranks, too," Reggie straightened his back and stared at Jorge's brown eyes with a glint of mischief on his own. He twirled the knife in his fingers with the same level of ease as flipping his palm.
Minho blanched.
Frankie? A Crank?
She didn't look like one.
Unlike those he found screaming against the window rails back in the WICKED compound, she looked perfectly sane.
Her friend, on the other hand, was another story. That Reggie guy had been throwing psychotic looks his way a few times in under one hour. And the way he smiled now...
Whatever. He needed to know about the plan, too, anyway.
"Fine, fine!" Jorge yelled, "But not a word from you boys."
Reggie hissed something that sounded like "yes!" and handed the clean knife to Frankie, who tucked it into her left shoes.
Those shoes...
Minho knew those shoes. He buried those shoes in her grave.
"We're taking them to their so-called Safe Haven, 200 miles North. The Thomas boy promised us a cure there."
"What?!" Reggie exclaimed. He was like the voice for both him and Frankie. "And why do you think Frances and I would come running back willingly into WICKED's arms?"
"Haven't you seen the signs on the walls? Thomas? Tom? Tommy? He's our golden ticket out of this madness!"
"The madness is inside our heads! We can't escape from it, you stick!"
"Whatever. We're going. Maybe you'll find your precious girls along the way, muchacho."
