SONDER (IV): tmr thomas

42: I should shoot up

Leo 42

We leave in the morning without saying good-bye to Minho and Jay. I wasn't supposed to come. In fact, I'm not really coming. I'm riding in the van with Thomas, but he is going into WICKED all by himself. After all, he is a special and sweet chosen one.

The four of us are on the way to the Berg hangar. Since Gally is driving in daylight, rather than shrouded by darkness, the journey has been easier for us. Still, with every turn the pilot clings on to the walls. I mean, the trip isn't a merry-go-round. It feels exactly as it is; we are hurtling down infected streets.

This van, unlike the last one we took, has two rows. The front has two seats. One, obviously Gally has taken. The pilot claimed the other, so Thomas and I are sitting in the back. He keeps watching out the front window, as if he is right up there with them.

At least to me, this isn't action. Perhaps technically we are in a high-speed car, but this is something that Dawn would enjoy.

I force myself not to hold back my sobs the thought of her name. Whenever I think of her death though, I think of Minho, and that gun, and Michelle. It all crashes down then. Even Thomas, pulling me into his side, does nothing to soothe me.

Especially Thomas, I remind myself.

"Klunk," Gally whispers. The car slows down as his voice quiets, until we are stopped in the street.

I finally look up, spotting a group of cars doing donuts in the street. Like Thomas, I lean forward.

"We've got to backtrack," Gally mutters, before he hits his hand on the dashboard. "Shuck, this is the only way I know."

Around the car, I see Cranks littering the street. From this far back, it's hard to tell how far gone they are. Their clothes have some wear and tear, and their skin is sagging, but I would need to get up close. The farther past the gone, the easier to take. Dissecting them to decide how easily to kill them is less than a strong suit.

"We need to go through them," the pilot insists. "We can't make it there on foot."

"No," Gally snaps, too quickly. "I'm not driving into Cranks. Not... not again."

My heart is heavy as I feel Gally stare at them. Michelle.

"Let me go check," I say, unbuckling my seatbelt. As my fingers wrap around the car door, they lock shut. I glare over to Gally.

"No," he turns around to stare at me, his scowl deepening. "Absolutely not."

"But I can ask them-"

"You can't ask a Crank klunk," Gally retorts. His eyes are bloodshot, so much so that I wonder if it stings to look at me.

My hand tries to find the small mechanism to pull up the locks at the back of the car. Unfortunately, they've dipped just into the car, so my fingers can't get a grip around them.

"For shuck's sake," Gally mutters. Slowly, he starts the van. We been to creak along the street, inching closer and closer to the other cars.

Then, they stop. Each of them quits doing donuts, and forms a line opposite us, ready to jump forward and towards us.

This is not happening.

I sneak my hand forward on to the passenger's side door until I feel something, I click it, and I hear his window open a crack. Klunk. Rather than stop, I keep reaching my hand forward. There's got to be something.