Survive

Death

I'm sorry, stay strong
Thomas

Brenda threw the computer to the side, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She lay her head on the roots of the tree towering over her, wishing the ground would swallow her up. She could hear her heart thumping in her chest, and with every thud she fell deeper and deeper into an endless pit of despair.

She was pulled out of her grief by an agonising scream. She ran towards the clearing and saw Minho on his knees, a tablet shattered a few feet away. Frypan was in the process of a futile attempt to calm him down, even though he too was unsuccessfully holding back tears.

But of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Gally. Standing at the edge of the clearing, he was half hidden by the trees and she was surprised to see him clutching his face, the look on his face as if someone had slapped him.

She hadn't known he cared.

Hearing her name, she turned back towards Minho, her blurry eyes searching for the person who had called.

Sonya, Aris and the other group B survivors were huddled together in a corner, blank vacant looks on their faces, only their eyes showing glimpses of loss.

She turned around again, frantically searching for the source of the cry, but she still couldn't work out who had called her name.

Brenda

She heard it again, closer, as if the person had been standing next to her the whole time. Only then did she realise how familiar the voice was.

It was Thomas.

She gurgled something inaudible, fresh tears cascading down her cheeks. She felt her knees buckle and would've fallen had Jorge not caught her in time.

He pulled her into a tight hug, holding her close as she collapsed against him. He didn't offer any words of comfort, already knowing they would do nothing to mend her broken heart. Instead he just held her, softly stroking her hair as she sobbed uncontrollably, her face buried in the soft brown leather of his jacket.

mazerunnermazerunnermazerunner

They weren't going to have a funeral. It would hurt too much. But they weren't going to do nothing either.

At the base of the cliff, where the burnt-out ruins of the flat trans lay, a small group stood.

Below the cliff lay a selection of small crosses, each with a few words carved within.

Minho stepped forward, his knees giving way before he completely reached the memorials. He lent back on his feet, defeated.

"If we had a cross for everyone who died, we would have nowhere to stand"

His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, yet carried by the wind and everyone could hear him.

"And the worst...The worst thing about most of them, is that we don't know if they're really gone. I know- I know that we could never have saved them, but like Newt, I mean... He could still be alive..."

But there was no hint of hope in his voice. Frypan the tears start to trickle down his cheeks. This wasn't the Minho that he knew, the Minho he knew would be wanting revenge for the death of his brothers, he would never have given up so quickly. But then again they had all been broken by what they'd gone through. And none of them would ever be completely fixed.

"And Thomas"

Frypan looked up at the sound of the crack in his friends voice.

"He didn't even think we cared. He died believing it was for the best. I wish...I wish I could go back...go back and tell him how important he was to us all. Maybe then he wouldn't have gone with them so quickly. Maybe then he would have fought back."

Nobody said anything as Minho's voice faded and was replaced by racking sobs. They all just stared at the ground consumed by their own grief, until one by one they walked up to the crosses, whispered a few words and walked away in a vain attempt to escape the pain.

mazerunnermazerunnermazerunner

As the sun set, Brenda walked over and gently placed a hand on Minho's shoulder, who was still kneeling in front of the crosses.

"He didn't have a choice you know", she whispered.

But anger flared up inside Minho and as he looked up she saw fire in his eyes. He scrambled to his feet, fists clenched and she stepped back in fear.

"Of course he did! If he hadn't been such a shank his shuck-brain wouldn't be on display"

Brenda stared at Minho in disbelief, fresh tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"I...I didn't mean that", Minho haltered, realisation hitting him as he understood what he had just said.

"I loved him too you know", Brenda cried through gritted teeth, but anger re-appeared in the boy's eyes.

"Oh yeah? Or is this just another one of Wicked's games. You worked for them remember. Thomas might have forgiven you, but I haven't. I can't believe he ever trusted you!"

"Minho I-"

"NO! I don't want to hear it. Two years, I was stuck there. TWO DAMN YEARS! And where were you? Oh yeah that's right. Getting cosy with Wicked! You have no idea how many friends I've lost, how many brothers. And there I was thinking Thomas was the only one I would never lose, oh how I was wrong"

"Minho-"

"Leave me alone"

"Hey, you listen-"

"No you listen. The only person I have now is Fry. I don't need you coming here and telling me who you think Thomas was. You barely even knew him, what was it, a week? And you already had your tongue down his throat, probably just because he was the 'final candidate', the 'strongest subject'. Well tell me, if he's so strong, why is he DEAD?!"

He shouts were cut of by another chocked sob from Brenda. Was this really what Minho thought? Then again, maybe it was all her fault. If she hadn't agreed to work for Wicked non of this would have happened, or at-least, she wouldn't have been hurt by it.

She nodded slowly, eyes staring into the distance, "Maybe you're right", she turned and walked away, no tears just an empty feeling of numbness slithering through her veins.

Minho stared at the ground, self-hate flowing freely through him. Letting out a frustrated yell, he grabbed his head in his hands and fell back to his knees.

"Everyone's dead, what would be the difference if I was too"