SOJOURNER (III): tmr gally

50: I shouldn't smell charcoal

Dawn 50

Only about ten metres from us, the ground is opening up in a perfect square. A large groaning squeezes through the air, as metal rubs off metal. My hands fly up to my ears, trying to protect them from the piercing sound. The ground begins to flip over until what was on the surface is now on the bottom.

The square, which can't be more than five metres across, is now an obsidian floor. The sand that was once on it has been scattered into the air. On top of the black ground are half-a-dozen white coffins. They are too wide and too large to fit a human though.

I've seen them before. In the Griever hideout.

The same irritating screech erupts from all directions around us. Dozen of more squares are flipping over across the "Safe Haven". Each is identical to the previous; they all have the same black floors and white coffins. As I spin around, I try to count them all. There have to be at least thirty, maybe forty.

The sounds stop as the ground settles. The dark floors are being obscured by the sand, blown back over them due to the harsh wind. I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The sky is only getting darker overhead. We are going to have a storm.

"Hey," I look over, noticing Teresa. She's with our group, trying to pull Newt, Minho, and Thomas over to her. My nails dig into the back of my hand as I scratch deep into my flesh. As soon as there is trouble, Teresa is back on her klunk again. She doesn't get to be in charge after all the klunk she's pulled.

I grab Leo's arm. The brunette has her hands tightly clamped over her ears, and her eyes shut tightly. She jerks over to me, but I've got no time to explain. Harriet catches my eye, and I gesture for her to come over.

"What are we doing?" Teresa asks, her voice low and hushed.

"You aren't doing anything," Minho cuts her off, turning back towards the rest of us. I don't know that I've ever been as happy with Minho as I am right now. "What's the plan?"

"Those things could have Grievers," Newt remarks. "We're probably supposed to get ready for a blood bath."

"You talkin' 'bout those pods?" Harriet walks into the circle. Her presence infiltrates the group, taking the attention off Teresa. With her, she has only brought Sonya. "You think they got Grievers?"

"Oh great," Minho rolls his eyes. "Group B, always behind." He emphasizes the b harshly, causing Harriet to purse her lips.

Thunder cracks out into the air. I duck on to the ground, high-pitched screams scattered around me. We lost the majority of our girls to the storm. What was it? Ten? More?

The boys aren't so smart. I grab Minho's arm, pulling him down to the ground. "Do you really want to catch on fire again?"

"I think we're either supposed to get in those crates in twenty minutes or fight the Grievers," Thomas comments.

"Thanks," Sonya rolls her eyes. "I think we've bloody noticed that, Tom."

Lighting cracks again. The pods begin to hiss. Slowly, the tops of the pods begin to split in half. I don't look. I don't really want to know what is happening in those things, or what is going to happen to me once I get near them.

"You want to get in a coffin!" I shout, turning over to stare at Thomas. He shrugs, looking back to Minho. He's lost it if he thinks we should be getting in there.

Thomas ignores me. Instead, he is looking over to Teresa. I bet she is using her weird old mind games on him. If there is anything that I've learnt about boys, it's that when they fall in love, they become slintheads. I swear, if he falls for her tricks again, I'll kill them both.