𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗦𝗦, minho (tmr)

Chapter Thirty Five

"What the shuck do we do now?" Florence asked, her voice bouncing around the walls of the crumbled building. Her eyes turned back to the warehouse, which was demolished, flooding with tears at the implication her brother may be dead.

"Hey, hermana," Jorge clicked his fingers in front of her face impatiently. Despite his action, looking at him now she could see he held sympathy for her. "I know Brenda. They're fine, trust me."

That's the only thing she could do.

Florence's eyes scanned across the room. It was an empty building, apart from the now broken zip line and the harnesses hanging down from the roof. She found Newt's face. He looked horrified, not even a little reassured by Jorge's words.

"We need to find Marcus."

Jorge set off in a determined march, leaving Florence, Minho, Newt, Teresa, Aris and Frypan all to exchange confused glances before rushing after him. Florence caught up to his pace, folding her arms across her chest.

"Who the hell is Marcus?"

Jorge glanced to her in amusement of her frustration, only increasing it. As he began to descend a cracking concrete staircase, his answer echoed around them. "An old friend. He used to smuggle kids into the mountains. If anyone knows where the Right Arm is, it's him."

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Jorge pushed open the emergency door, stepping out into the open land. The sky was beginning to lighten, the sun rising and dragging colours of pink and red up across the sky with it.

Jorge seemed to know exactly where he was going, navigating them through the fairly empty, small civilisation the warehouse was formerly a part of. For a while, the Gladers just followed him in silence, not quite knowing what to say. And then,

"Why are you helping us?" Newt asked the question quite bluntly. Jorge didn't bother in looking back as he answered, letting out a harsh chuckle beforehand.

"Brenda and I, we've been looking for a way into the Right Arm for years. You guys, you're immune. They can't turn us away."

Florence shared a knowing look with Frypan, their lost friend Winston playing on their minds. The group all silently decided not to mention the boy, knowing that Jorge could change his mind when finding out that they might not actually be immune.

No one spoke again for a while, and as day broke, Florence's attention turned to the city Jorge had led them into. They had narrowly escaped Cranks all night, and now they were safe again, in the broad daylight and the company of what seemed like many other people.

Rubbish piled on the sides of the road, unused telephone wires were hanging from eroding and decaying buildings, people were milling about the place and minding their own business. Florence couldn't help but feel out of place; she didn't know a single other person other than her friends, she didn't know what she was doing, where she was.

Nevertheless, she pushed away her confusion and continued to follow the man she had only met a few hours ago. She was pretty much trusting him with her life.

Mental note: Stop trusting people so easily. It hasn't worked out so far.

As they ventured further into the city, they came across more and more people. Florence moved closer to Minho out of anxiousness, the boy's fingertips grazing her arm as a way of telling her she would be okay.

Jorge led them towards a multi story white arched building with red hanging banners decorating its sides. Swarms of people were hanging around the front of it, sat on the steps or stood chatting to one another. There was a look of determination set in Jorge's expression as he marched over to the building, set on entering.