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...
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WAS THAT JEALOUSY?
The feeling Minho had when Frankie stood so close to that Reggie guy? Was that it?
And the way he agreed to Jorge's command, saying, "Okay, fine, but I'm only in if she's in." —What the klunk was that all about?
(On the bright side, Frankie agreed)
"So," Reggie announced, "We just have to follow you all?"
"And protect us," Jorge nodded, "If there's no more objection, I suggest we all move. Now."
"What about Thomas and the girl?" Someone quipped from the back of the crowd.
"We'll just go into the city and search for them. He's with Brenda —She'll lead him through the sewer, I think."
Murmur of disagreement from his peers entered Minho's ears.
"Too big of a crowd," Reggie muttered, squinting his eyes on the amount of people he had to bring, "We better split up, old man."
"Nice try, hermano. I'm not leaving anyone out of my sight," Jorge smiled knowingly, "I'll lead the way. Reg, stand behind me. Frances, you guard the back. Others, form one line."
"Why?" Reggie said in a challenging tone.
"Because I don't trust you, you punk," Jorge grabbed a fistful of his collar and pulled Reggie forward, "All of you. Follow me quietly."
Frankie pulled out a hairband and tied half of her hair messily as she shuffled to the farthest back of the pack.
Minho kept his eyes glued on her. He noticed how dirty she seemed now after rolling around in the dust, though she still looked better than all of the Scorch inhabitants. Perhaps someone punched her on the mouth since dried blood had begun to form on her lower lip. A bloodied set of three unhealthy scratches had appeared on her thin cheek.
He slowed his steps and let the other boys walked before him, until he was the last in the row. "Hey."
"Get down! Get down!" Jorge hissed as they stood at the edge of the veranda.
Minho had no choice but to halt his tongue despite wanting to speak to her desperately. They hadn't had a chance to speak ever since they met this morning. Well, they had, but she ran away, screaming nonsense like 'you lied'.
The land seemed as blindingly hot as it had been for the last couple of days. He had to squint and placed a hand like a makeshift hat upon his forehead in order to see. Everything was dry, dusty, barren, and nothing but a desolate desert.
A few broken boxes and crates littered the place, but there was no Crank in sight.
"Alright," Jorge whispered, "Stay low and get to that truck right there."
The old Hispanic man was the first to run while bending his back down towards a lone truck covered in red dust and rust, parked only twenty feet away.
Minho glanced at Frankie (who deliberately looked straight at the vehicle and nowhere else) before he followed Hank's footsteps before him.
Jorge had lifted the door and body seals and motioned for the others to enter. Once Minho had stepped foot into the trailer, Jorge hopped in as well.
"You two drive. It'll be less suspicious when Woody asks you why the truck is running."
"Alright."
Reggie made sure that his smirk was the last everyone saw before the doors shut close and the trailer turned into a dark, musty void. The only opening was the slight slit between the locked doors.
Minho sat down.
The truck wobbled, signalling that the two youngsters had climbed up to the driver's seats. Then came a very loud sound of ignition, followed by creaky hum of the old engine. They moved.
"Newt—"
"Hush," Jorge whispered warningly, "Be quiet."
Minho closed his eyes and rested his head against one side of the metallic wall.
Even when his whole body was screaming with exhaustion, knowing she was just one reach away, he simply couldn't bring himself to sleep.
〰️
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REGGIE CLIMBED INTO the driver's seat as Frankie slammed the passenger's door close with a loud bang.
"Frances."
"Hmm?"
"Are you okay?"
Frankie frowned at him, "Why?"
"If our positions are switched, I wouldn't be able to stay this calm," Reggie said as he picked up the blue and red cables and jumpstarted the car. It roared. "I would punch one of them in the face and demand a full-length explanation right on the spot."
"I'm not ready," Frankie murmured a reply.
"To explain ourselves back? Or to hear theirs and give them forgiveness if they actually deserve it?"
"Shut up and drive, shuckface."
"Yes, ma'am," Reggie snickered, "Just admit it. You miss them. That's why we're here."
He stepped on the pedal and the truck jolted forward. It didn't take long for them to reach the border or Jorge's Crank compound where two people were standing guard.
Reggie didn't need to roll down the window. It was already gone in the first place.
"Howdy, Woody?" He mock saluted.
"Why you drive truck?" The half-gone Crank said. He was probably a handsome guy back when he was sane. "Where you drive truck?"
"Our turn to scavenge for food. You forget?"
"No! No!" Woody exclaimed, feeling offended when he was accused to have forgotten his one and only task, "Go on, then!"
"Alright. Howdy, Woody," Reggie said, "Frances, aren't you gonna say 'bye'?"
Frankie blinked, "Oh. Bye, Woody."
Woody's smile broadened to reveal a curtain of uneven and unkempt teeth, "Bye, Frances!"
Reggie stepped on the pedal one more time and zoomed away. Only after he made sure that the truck was out of the border guards' eyes did he stamped harder, putting as much distance as he could between them and the compound.
"Reg."
"Yeah?" He almost yelled over the roar of the truck's machineries.
