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...
IMPORTANT! A/N: I'm doing a poll here and your answers will determine Frankie's fate —immune or not? Comment, please!
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WHEN THE SUN was totally consumed by the mountains of sand and there was nothing but a jet black sky over their heads, Jorge instructed everyone to gather their stuffs and move.
Newt quietly followed behind Minho, who seemed to be in deep thoughts just like he was.
As he set his footsteps to follow the rhythm of the others before him, and the group silently went through fallen structures, tunnels, and remnants of what seemed to be a great technological city in the past, his mind wandered to what Jorge had told them.
He couldn't believe it. The Frankie that he knew, who stopped him from killing himself, had resorted to the most depressing choice of doing exactly what he did.
Jorge had continued the tale up to Frankie's current position and occupation in the compound. How she refused to be paired with anyone else other than Reggie and, since they're the least Gone out of everyone there, they took care of almost everything. Food gathering, food storage, killing intruders, sometimes security posts and inhabitants' complaints. They were physically fit in the first place, so a few trainings with weaponries made them the best fighters Jorge had.
Killing intruders.
Of course, Newt realised that they were in a totally different environment with different circumstances. The Glade was supposed to be a safe community where people support each other in order to sustain a well life, whereas the Scorch...
The Ratman had said it. The Earth had turned into a fiery, infectious pit of disease, where humans didn't act like humans anymore. They simply weren't able to. People slowly spiralled into their own jail of insanity and out here, in the Scorch, it was either kill or be killed.
But, still. Frankie never killed anything or anyone before.
Thomas was the first ever to kill a Griever, and the Griever ended up being alive.
Anyway, putting two and two together, Newt knew he had to find out what happened from the second he found her body in her bedroom to the second Reggie ran into a random Crank place with her limp body on his back. Because the reason those two WICKED runaways who came back to life hated them so much had to lay within the said timeline.
Newt looked back over his shoulder and casted his look on Frankie. How colder she looked from the way she did in her happier days.
What happened, Frank?
He wondered.
What the bloody hell happened to you?
〰️
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WITH EVERYONE FILLED with dread and suspense, the walk into the city felt long, yet nothing but a blur. Jorge seemed to know his way around town, since he effortlessly picked different pathways to avoid any meeting with Cranks as well as scavenging for food along the way. There were some close calls when the sickening cackles of the Cranks could be heard clearly from their position, but either they ran down the opposite alley fast enough to outrun them or Jorge sent the WICKED duo (though the name had lost its meaning since everyone there but Jorge actually came from WICKED's experiment) to subdue all threats.
After everyone had taken a bite from four granola bars that they had found, the group scoured floor by floor for Cranks before settling on the third highest floor.
"Get some rest. In three hours, I want everybody up and runnin' in full force. We've been separated from Brenda and Tom for too long already."
Everyone mumbled a tired reply and fell into deep slumber only after a few minutes had passed. It was probably four in the morning already. They had been going on for five or six hours since their last rest.
"I'll take the first shift," Frankie offered.
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Wake me up in one and a half hour, France. Or else."
Reggie pulled down his beanie to cover his eyes and slept on the floor with both his palms placed under his head like a pillow.
Frankie leaned her back against a glass window, and looked around the room, trying to locate anyone who was awake, moving, or unknown. Being like this, like a protector for the Gladers, made her feel the way she used to feel about herself in the Glade. There were no such thing as hard feelings or painful past, only a questionable present and a hope to one day find a way to bring her friends home safely.
Was that what she was thinking when she accepted Jorge's demand?
She guessed, once a Runner, always a Runner.
Once a Glader, always a Glader.
These days, she reminisced a lot than she usually did.
About an hour later, a movement caught her eyes and suddenly they locked with a pair of brown orbs. They glinted in the midst of darkness and closed eyes and curled bodies.
"Frank—"
"Go to sleep, Minho," Frankie said curtly in a low tone, afraid that she would wake up anyone, and looked away.
"I can't. I've been trying to, but I can't sleep."
Frankie turned her head to meet his eyes once more, but kept silent.
"Minho!" Someone who Frankie immediately recognized as Newt, hissed.
He remembered Jorge telling him and Newt to give her space...
...but, no. He couldn't. Not when the girl who used to be his best friend, his other half, was only one reach away.
"You know me well enough to know that I can't leave this alone, and let you— you weep in that guy's arms, while you push away everyone who ever loved you."
Minho's voice was getting louder and louder, and soon enough, everyone was no longer resting like they should.
"Hey. I told you to back off," Reggie said, still half-asleep.
"Leave me alone, Minho."
"Shuck! You're driving me crazy!" Minho exclaimed, "You want me to leave you alone? Then why did you come? Why are you here, being all protective like you used to be? I— I don't think you really want to be left alone, Frank."
Frankie was stunned in her position.
"You want us to forgive each other. You just don't know if you're ready to tell us your side of the story."
After all this time apart, he could still understand the broken pieces she buried deep within her heart.
