Till My Last Breath *DISCONTINUED*

Chapter 22 - I Happen to Believe in Ghosts

"Good plan, Thomas. 'Just hear what the man has to say'. Really working out for us."

"Oh, shut up, Minho."

Allison snorted at the banter, which was a nice, momentary distraction from the blood making her head feel heavy.

The Gladers were all hung up by their feet in a circular opening that every floor within the warehouse had, which made the decent to the ground seem like a fall into an eternal abyss. The ropes that were used to dangle them were tight, and Allison's jeans didn't cover her ankles, so she could feel the ropes digging into her skin, most likely leaving them raw.

"Try reaching the rope," she suggested.

"Good idea," Thomas said.

Allison, Thomas and Minho all tried pulling themselves up. Thomas didn't get as far as Minho, but both failed. Allison was no longer surprised by her core strength since she had regained her memories and almost managed to reach her toes, but the more she moved, the more her ankles hurt. She hissed in pain before dropping back down again, making her head spin.

"Enjoying the view?"

Jorge walked toward the Gladers with a slight smirk, which made Allison internally groan.

"What the hell do you want?" Thomas snapped.

Jorge laughed, pointing a finger at Thomas. "That is the question. My men want to sell you back to WICKED. Life has taught them to think small. I'm not like that. Something tells me you're not either."

"Is the blood rushing to my head or is this shank not making any sense?" Minho quipped.

As Allison listened, she had managed to gather that Jorge had other plans for them, something that would benefit both parties, but that was all. He was being incredibly vague, which was smart, but very frustrating on Allison's part.

Jorge shot Minho a bitter look before pointing what seemed like a cane in the low lighting at Thomas. "Tell me what you know about the Right Arm."

"I thought you said they were ghosts?" Newt piped up, sounding somewhere on Allison's vague left.

"I happen to believe in ghosts," he replied simply. "Especially when I hear them chattering on the airwaves."

So that's what he was doing with the radios. He was adjusting he frequency to tune into the Right Arm's channel, but for what? Would he sell them out, or would they go together? There was so many questions swirling around her head that she forced them to the side. Jorge moved towards the levers, which made Allison's stomach drop.

"You tell me what you know," he continued, "and maybe we can make a deal."

Thomas looked around at the Gladers before turning back to Jorge. "We... we don't know much."

He wasn't satisfied. He pulled down a lever that made them drop a few feet. They all let out yelps and screams as they jolted, momentarily fearing the worst.

"Okay, okay! Alright!" Thomas cried. "They're hiding in the mountains, and they attacked WICKED. They got out a bunch of kids. That's it. That's all we know."

"Yo Jorge," an unfamiliar, gruff voice echoed. The man that approached was tall, and bald. He had no facial hair aside from a thick bush-like beard that hung from his chin. "What's going on?"

"Me and my new friends were just getting acquainted," he replied. "We're done now."

"Hey wait!" Thomas called.

"So, you're not gonna help us?" Allison asked. She really believed that Jorge was going to propose a deal to them. Maybe she thought too highly of someone trying to survive and thrive in the middle of an apocalypse.