Two Turtle Doves

Eight

You wake up the next morning to Thomas yelling angrily at something. You don't see it before it's gone. You can just make out Minho groaning -- he must have been woken up, too. For a moment, you forget where you are.

The stale, dusty air is similar feels similar to that of the Glade. The cement above you is the same color as the top of the tents some Gladers used to sleep under. The floor is sandy and, through your clothes, feels like it could be grass. Newt's familiar scent sweeps through your nose. You hold your breath in a desperate attempt to never let it leave.

When you open your eyes, the feeling evaporates. You are left with a disappointing acerbic taste in your mouth and a feeling of impending doom. The latter seems to hang over everyone's head, though. 

"Come on, guys," Thomas says groggily. "We better get going."

This kid just never stops, you thought. Yes, you had just run away from the world's largest corporation and probably shouldn't stop running any time soon, but someone could at least take the time to explain what was going on.

"Wait," you told him, pushing yourself slowly off of the ground. Your back cracked in a few spots as you did so, stiff from sleeping half on the concrete and half on Newt. "Slow down. Tell me first, what were those things?"

Thomas gaped at you for a moment, probably trying to decide whether or not to stop and explain. Eventually, he gave in. 

"They're called Cranks. It's what Janson said would eat us alive if we left." He was silent for a moment. "I guess he wasn't lying about that."

And he continued, telling you and everyone else what was going on. He explained the Flare, a pandemic that had wiped the world of its sanity, and WICKED, who had build two mazes -- the Glade and one other -- in order to test cures for the virus on the younger generation. He elaborated on how the virus turns its victims into mindless cannibals. Cranks.

"We're an experiment to them," Thomas concluded.

Everybody stayed silent. You wondered how he had learned all of this information. It was too much to have picked up with Aris when he was crawling through the vents. 

"Just rats trying to find the cheese," Newt whispered. You were sure he didn't mean for you to hear, but it was a depressing statement. You placed a hand on his back and he looked at you with a small, forced smile.

The speech seemed to have pushed everybody into a depressed silence that remained unbroken for a long time after. 

It didn't take much effort to consolidate everything the Gladers had -- just a handful of water bottles and a few spare shirts. You didn't know where they had come from, but you weren't about to inquire anybody about supplies.

By the time everything was spread shabbily across a set of backpacks, there was more sand in your shoes than sweat -- and there was quite a lot of both. Somehow, you set out from the hiding spot with a backpack slung over your shoulders. It was the lightest of them all, but even the small amount of supplies was enough to slow you down in the heat of the desert.

You were in a run-down city, with buildings that appeared to have toppled over decades ago and no signs that anybody had ever lived there in the first place. There was no movement other than the occasional gust of wind that showered the city with a thousand sand grains. 

Your eyes went dry and stung. Every blink seemed to use up half of your energy. Your throat scratched, the taste of rancid air and dry sand coating your mouth. You thirsted for even a drop of water. But this was a desert and the little water you had was to be split between a dozen people. You had just begun to settle into the routine at WICKED -- three meals a day, showers whenever they were needed, drinking juice and water and milk and whatever you wanted. But now, you had no luxury at all.

It felt as if you had been walking for hours, but it couldn't have been more than one. Pieces of fallen rubble still surrounded you, creating small shady spots where you wished you could just curl up and enjoy the slight break from the heat. 

You were about to open your mouth to say something, despite the fact that you probably couldn't find the will to form words anyway, when the ground below you began to tremble. It was subtle, almost nothing at all. But a few seconds later, everyone had noticed. 

"What the hell. . ." you trailed off, looking around to see what could be creating the disturbance. 

But when you saw Thomas looking into the sky above, it became clear that you wouldn't find anything on the ground. You tilted your neck upward, scanning the lit blue sky for sign of movement. All you could feel was the movement under your feet.

"It's WICKED," Newt whispered under his breath. But you were close enough to hear.

Thomas started moving toward the nearest building. "Alright, everybody hide! Hide!"

"Where?" someone else called.

"Just get under here," Thomas answered, gesturing to a fallen, hollow chunk of cement. You scrambled toward them, Newt by your side. You felt him reach down and grip your hand. You didn't pull yours away.

You couldn't hear a single person breathing. Everyone forced themselves to stay as quite as possible. However, it became nearly impossible as the aircraft came into view.

"What is that?" Winston whispered. His words were followed with a harsh strand of 'shh's. 

The craft was huge, its underside painted a black that would have blended into a night sky. It had four large propellers spinning rapidly, keeping it in the air. You studied the way it glided through the sky, slowly but surely making progress. The noise drowned out everything, even your own thoughts.

When it had passed, the rumbling had stopped, and everyone had continued breathing, you were one of the first ones out of the hiding spot. 

"They're looking for us," Fry declared, echoing everyone's thoughts.

"And they won't stop," Thomas added. You thought the two thoughts were pretty obvious and there was no reason to state them out loud, but if worrying everyone was what Thomas wanted then that is what he would do.

"Then I guess we better keep moving," you announced. Nods and murmurs of agreement filled the group, their uncertainty too evident for your liking.

As much as you didn't want to do that -- the only thing you really wanted was to stay in the city, but you knew that wasn't safe or anywhere near a good idea -- everyone began walking again.

Your feet moved on their own, with one thought resonating through your mind. They'll never stop, and neither will we.