ACT II SCENE XXXIV
AUTOLYCUS

   ABANDONED CARS were piled up on the road as they crossed it with backs hunched down in caution. They flitted from vehicle to vehicle as they drew closer to the abandoned shopping mart. A few bodies lay scattered around the concrete, covered in dried blood and already halfway to decomposition.

The sharp sound of splintering glass made them freeze in their tracks and dart behind the building. The young girl crawled her way to the shattered window and peeked inside. There was a skinny boy about their age shrinking away from two men across the room. One was thin, almost frail looking, with bloodshot eyes and a half shaved head. The other was a bear of a man, his body was probably the size of a fully matured tree trunk.

The boy next to her tugged on her shirt and cocked his head to the side.

"Leave 'em," he muttered. "There might be supplies at the back."

She ducked her head down and crouched low, grabbing hold of his arm before he could sneak away. "No, he needs helps," she hissed.

"Did you see them?" he shot back. "They'll take you out with one hit."

A crash suddenly erupted from inside and a voice cried out. Someone laughed, a deep whooping sound that was undeniably insane. She gripped the boy's arm imperatively and drew the gun from her back pocket. "Cover me!" she said and jumped through the window before he had a chance to stop her.

She shot twice, one found its mark in the frail man's head and the other into the thick shoulder of the bear man. He whirled around; setting his crazed eyes on her and took a menacing step forward. The girl held her gun up to fire again but the man was lunging at her with a furious howl. She stumbled backwards, tripping over the edge of a fallen shelf and crashed to the floor.

Her gun clattered against the dirty tiles as she rolled to the side, narrowly escaping the gigantic man's fists. He managed to grab hold of her ankle and pulled her back. Another shot cracked through the air and a bullet tore through the back of the man's head. The skinny boy darted forwards to haul her away just as the man dropped forwards to the ground. She panted, quickly retrieving her gun and scrambled to a stand.

"You idiot!" her friend yelled at her as he climbed through the window. "Are you freaking crazy?"

"T-thanks..." the skinny boy stammered. "I-I would have been a goner if you guys hadn't saved me."

"We can't just leave him here," she protested to her friend before turning back to the boy. "Are you alone? Did you get separated?"

"Well...I was with someone." He gestured to a corner. A blonde woman lied on the ground, her head drenched in blood like it was cracked open. "We came from the eastern settlement."

"You what?" The other young boy looked to him with interest now. "Why?"

"It's overrun by Cranks," he told them. "We managed to get away and were heading towards the next one. It's about two hundred miles from here."

"Do you know the way?" She eyed him warily.

"Yeah, I got a map," he said. "Let me go with you. Safety in numbers, right?"

They exchanged glances with one another before she nodded eagerly. "Safety in numbers."

   She woke up to the light of dawn filtering down on her face and she could see the specks of desert dust floating in the air. Rubbing her eyes, she yawned and stretched, then immediately let out a pained groan as she realised how bad of an idea that was. Her side still ached like freaking shuck and it was all she could do to push herself to a sitting position and lean against the wall. Then she looked up to find Newt and Thomas watching her.

"I feel like crap," she moaned hoarsely.

"What happened to you?" the blonde asked.

"Minho flew into her and bruised her ribs," Thomas answered. "Saw it happen before I got thrown back myself."

Newt snorted. "Always thought he had too much muscle for his own good. Then what happened to him?"

"Lightning somehow caught his clothes on fire. Don't know how it did that without frying his brain though but we managed to put it out before it did too much damage. I think."

"Before it did too much damage?" New raised an eyebrow. "I'd hate to see what you think real damage looks like."

Minho started then with a long, drawn-out groan of agony. "Oh, man," he rasped as he opened his eyes to look at them. "I'm shucked. I'm shucked for good."

"Drama king," Newt remarked.

Minho pushed himself up into a sitting position, grunting unhappily as he did so. Finally, he dragged himself next to Cassandra and leaned against the wall with his knees up. "Shuck it," he replied. "I'm tougher than nails. I could still kick your pony-lovin' butt with twice this pain."

"I do love ponies," Thomas said. "Wish I could eat one right now." As if to prove his point, his stomach grumbled right then.

"Was that a joke?' Minho asked in disbelief. "Did Thomas the boring slinthead actually make a joke?"

"I think he did," Newt responded.

"I'm a funny guy."

Cassandra actually laughed. "You're hilarious."

Minho then looked around with an expression of remorse. Most of the Gladers were still asleep on the ground. "How many?" he asked.

"Twelve," Newt said quietly.

"Dude," Minho started. "How're we gonna fight our way through the city with only twelve people?"

Cassandra looked up to scan the rest of the building they were in. It was tall, rising to about eight floors perhaps, everything broken down except for its steel infrastructure keeping the entire thing standing. There was something, a glint, coming from the third floor like light reflecting off a smooth surface and she blinked at it. The boys continued talking.

"What about the people who died, Minho? Jack's missing. So is Winston—he never had a chance. And I don't see Stan or Tim. What about them?"

A piece of loose debris suddenly fell through the hole in the ceiling and Cassandra's eyes followed as it broke against the floor.

"Yeah, we better figure things out before we have a bunch of crazies show up," Thomas said. "But I'm telling you, we gotta eat first. We gotta find food."

"Food?"

A face suddenly popped over the edge of the second floor. Cassandra started violently and screamed in surprise. "It's a ghost!"

There was a bark of laughter before the person jumped down like some kind of acrobat before landing on the floor in front of them. He sprang up and held his arms out in a show of talent. It was a man, wearing a loose red shirt underneath a worn black jacket with faded jeans.

"My name is Jorge," he spoke with a noticeable accent that was different from Newt's. "And I'm the Crank who rules this place." He then snickered to himself.

All the Gladers were wide awake at that point. When no one else made a sound, he continued talking, "Are you scared of the Cranks? Scared we'll drag you to the ground and eat your eyeballs out? Mmm, tasty. I love a good eyeball when the grub's runnin' short. Tastes like undercooked eggs."

"You admit you're a Crank?" Minho raised his voice. "That you're freaking crazy?"

"He just said he likes the taste of eyeballs," Frypan commented. "I think that qualifies as crazy."

"Come, come, my new friends." Jorge laughed menacingly. "I'd only eat your eyes if you were already dead. Course, I might help you get that way if I needed to. Understand what I'm saying?"

"How many of you are here?" Newt asked.

"How many? How many Cranks?" Jorge turned to him. "We're all Cranks around here, hermano."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," the blonde replied with a hint of annoyance.

Jorge started to pace amongst them and their eyes followed his every movement warily. "Those who speak first are at a disadvantage. I want to know what in God's name your purpose could be, why you're here, where you came from. Now."

"We're at a disadvantage?" Minho sneered up at him. "Unless that lightning storm fried my retinas, I'd say there are twelve of us against one of you. Maybe you should start talking."

She watched as the man's face dropped back to that smooth emotionless façade. "You didn't just say that to me, did you? Please tell me you didn't just speak to me like a dog. You have ten seconds to apologise."

Minho looked over to them with a smirk and Jorge started counting down. Thomas shook his head at the boy and gave him a look of warning.

"Five. Six."

"Do it!" Thomas said urgently before glancing upwards. Cassandra's eyes flicked up instinctively and she saw movement from the floors above. Minho must have noticed it too because he blurted out an apology right then.

"I don't think you meant that," Jorge said, drawing his leg back and kicking him hard in the side. Minho cried out in pain. "Say it with meaning, hermano."

"Minho!" Cassandra cried out in concern.

"Say it with meaning!" Jorge screamed and kicked at the same spot with much more force than was necessary.

Minho let out a strangled yell and clutched his side. "I'm... sorry," he ground out.

Jorge started to relax again, that idiotic smile spreading across his face once more. Then Minho lashed out, swinging his arm into the man's shin and causing him to lose his balance. He fell down with a yelp of surprise and Minho jumped on him, yelling out profanities as he beat the living crap out of the guy.

"Minho!" Thomas shouted. "Stop!"

There was a flurry of movement; scrapes and sounds coming from the upper floors and ropes slithered down to the ground. Thomas threw himself across the air, slamming into Minho and throwing the both of them against a wall. Cassandra ripped her arm free from Newt's dazed hands and took Minho's place above the man, pressing her blade to his throat.

"Stop!" she shrieked just as the first Crank reached the ground floor.

There were about a dozen more of them, all filthy and bedraggled, but definitely outnumbering the Gladers now. They held crude weapons in their hands; machetes, baseball bats with jagged screws rammed through or metal bars with blood crusted on the ends.

"Tell them not to hurt us or I'll slit your throat!" she commanded with a panicked voice.

"It looks like you're further Gone than I am, hermana." Jorge grinned up at her.

"Cass," Thomas called her, voice thick with dread. "Stop it. Let me talk to him. Just ten minutes."

She looked at him like he was insane. "What?"

"Ten minutes. Just me and him. Alone," Thomas said.