Dawn 30

The sun should be well into the sky, but there are clouds brewing overhead. We can't afford to stop so I'm thankful for the shade. It feels like 3:00 AM. It's as if I'm living in a different time zone. My sleep is so screwy, and we've lost so much time dealing with Thomas. Nothing to show for that anyway, since he was abducted right out from underneath us.

I'm too tired to talk. In fact, I can barely keep my eyes open. I glance over to Brenda next to me. She looks up, before looking back down at her feet. Her animosity might actually drive me up a wall.

"You know," I begin, looking her up and down. "I'm not shacking Thomas."

"Yeah," she nods up ahead, her dark brown hair falling in her face. "I had noticed you were all over him." She points across the group at Minho, who is leading the way.

Minho looks like nothing but a shadow beneath the sky. I wish for nothing more than to actually recognize him. The distance between us is nothing new. He is trudging along, whispering to Newt. Lately, it's felt as if we were only existing in the same space. There aren't thoughts or feelings we are sharing, or anything individual. Just for us. My hands slots into his, and we move forward. Silently. Excruciatingly.

I don't answer her, since there isn't much I can offer. It's the only reason I can think of that would make her so bitter towards me. I honestly don't get it.

"He's liked you for a while," she nods up to him. Her face is so neutral and difficult to read. Her eyes are squinting, but I attribute that to the exhaustion that plagues her body. It causes her hands to sink closer to the ground.

"Minho?" I ask, looking forward.

"Yeah," she nods. "How long have you been together?"

I shrug. "Times been moving oddly. Two months, maybe? I don't even know."

She offers a lose smile, looking down at the ground. Her smile lines melt into the bags under her eyes. Her skin cracks since it is so dry. I move to offer her some of my water, but she pulls a bottle out of her pocket and drinks.

"It seems," she swallows, pausing, "as though you two have been together much longer. Years, even."

She doesn't elaborate to this point, choosing to trudge forward into the Scorch. We have only just left the town, maybe ten minutes ago. My feet trudge through the sand, kicking it up into the air.

Brenda stops, and I am barely paying enough attention to stop in time. She looks across our group, over to Jorge. He stands still, his hands perched forward in defense. Staring up at the sky.

"Minho," I call out.

He and Newt turn around. Newt's face is contorted in confusion, while Minho just stares at me. I gesture over to Jorge, and Minho's eyes flick away.

"What is it?" Minho asks, his stance tightening. He steps, every muscle in his body rigid, over to Jorge. Moving next to the man, waiting for his reaction.

The sky rumbles above us. Jorge drops his arms.

"Run," he instructs.

Minho is charging out behind him, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me back towards the town. We've got to be close to a kilometre off, at this point.

Lighting cracks down to the Earth, a few feet in front of us. It sends sand up into a mess around us, clouding in circles. Minho throws me away from the lightning, and I roll across the sand. I dig my hands into the ground, pulling myself up and running.

I can clearly see everyone sprinting around me. Last time, was a desperate panic. Sprinting for my life, praying that anyone was behind me. Praying that we would all know where to go. Dmitri gets struck down a few feet in front of me. His body erupts in flames, and he begins screaming. I try my best to ignore him, running farther and farther. He continues to scream behind me, though no one moves to help him. I bite back tears.

His screaming stops. I glance behind me, searching the ground for his body. Doug turns, a bloody knife in his hands. He begins jogging off with the rest of us.

Minho gets to the first building, slamming into its metal door. He stops, banging on it, and shaking the door handle. Newt waits behind him, as the rest of us catch up. Fists collide on the door, again and again, waiting for it to open. Brenda darts in beneath me, sticking a bobby pin into the lock. The rest of us huddle near the door, praying that no lighting strikes the building.

It cracks open. We burst in, pushing past her into the safety of the building. The place is dimly lit, since the windows just let in little light. All I can see are the long, cream coloured hallways with matching walls and floors.

"What was that?" Fry asks, panting. He still hasn't caught his breath. I haven't either.

"Dry storm," Jorge manages, holding his chest with one hand. "We haven't gotten one in months."

"Who died?" Minho asks, looking around. He is out of breath, and I hate the way his question is so clinical now. "I saw someone get struck, who was it?"

"Dmitri," Doug is still perched in the doorway. He stares outside, letting in the cool storm air. "I didn't let him burn."

Thunder rolls off in the distance. Minho sighs, moving into the room. He stares around the rest of us. For a second, I think I can read his mind. We might not have the connection that Thomas and Teresa do, but I know him.

Eight of them. Out of the boys they started out with originally, they have eight left. Add on those who've joined, it's eleven. Really though, who's counting those kinds of things? Are Leo, Michelle, and Ella alive?

"I don't get it," I mutter, staring up at the sky. "They save Thomas but kill the rest of us."

"Nothing we can do about it," Doug mutters, staring at the ground. "We've got to keep moving forward."

"Shuck moving forward!" Minho yells, shouting at the boy. "They expect us to keep running around?" He stalks towards Doug, pushing past Clint.

Clint's eyes are dark, as he stares at the ground. I move over to him, trying to take his hands in mine, but he can't seem to see me. His hands are shaking, and eventually he sits down on the ground. I try to move closer to him, but there is a layer of cling wrap that seems to separate us. Every touch is a faint echo.

I look away, turning to the rest of the boys in the room. Fry is standing near Newt, watching Minho explode. Aidan and Hank are holding on to each other's faces, their foreheads pressed together. Brenda and Jorge hang in the corner, whispering to one another.

"What's the point?" Minho moves past Doug, grabbing the door and slamming it shut. The hallways are darker now, but we can still see.

"Minho," I step forward.

Aris cuts me off. He grabs my arm, pulling me to the side. "This needs to happen. He's been waiting to explode since I met him."

Aris's brown hair hangs over his bright blue eyes. They narrow in concern. Whatever anybody else thinks of him, I trust Aris. He's right. I've been waiting around for Minho to blow.

I hear glass breaking over his shoulder. Minho has smashed him way into a room just down the hallway. The sound cuts through the building, only reminding me of how our few bodies can't fill the space.

"Quit it," Jay instructs, moving closer to Minho. "You don't know if there are Cranks."

Minho spins, staring at Jay. Jay and the rest of his friends are humongous, with the exception of their trigger. Aris is only a bit taller than me, and Minho is about the same height as him. Jay easily towers over the guy.

I expect Minho to hit him, and then get his klunk handed to him. My shoulders freeze, my heart pounding. All I can do is beg that he doesn't.

"You didn't care if there were Cranks when you dragged Wyck and I away from the Berg. Now suddenly you do?" Minho shoves Jay forward.

Jay lowers his shoulders, pushing his chest forward. He winces, remembering Wyck's brutal death. "You don't want to do this man."

"Don't tell me what I want." Minho shoves him again.

"You are upset," Jay tells Minho. Minho moves to shove him, and Jay grabs his hand, spinning Minho around and pinning it behind his back. "Getting all riled up is only going to get the rest of us killed. Everybody is depending on you."

Jay shoves Minho off. For a second, Minho stumbles forward. He glances at me, then runs off, deeper and deeper down the hallways.

"I'll go after him," Newt offers. He grabs my shoulder, squeezing it. "You stay here."

He trails off after Minho, and once again I am left helpless. I feel nauseous once again, but I won't throw up. Not now. Not when Minho needs me. He can cool down for two minutes, or whatever, and then I will go after him.

Then I throw up. Klunk. Fry moves on to me, rubbing my back.

"I have medical training," I recognize Jay's voice. "Let Aris and I handle her."

I ignore the rest of the words that are thrown around about me. There are hands on my back. Nothing is soothing.

Aris gently tucks his arms around me, guiding me down the hallway. He reaches a door, pulling on the handle. Jay grabs the door handle and pushes through it with his shoulders. The door hinges snap off, and in a wave of dust, they fall to the ground.

We are barely inside when Aris speaks. "You need to tell Minho."

I ignore him, pulling myself out of his grasp and stumbling over to the long windows. My fingers flounder on the pull on the bottom, the window slowly cracks open, letting in the cool storm air. It hits my lungs, cooling my body down. I didn't realise I was heating up so much.

"Tell him what?" I croak, staring out the window. I turn back, my eyes brimming to look at the pair of them. Jay sits on a desk, in the centre of the room. Aris stalks closer to us.

I look around. There are posters on the walls, stained black but unmistakeable. Words in a language I don't quite understand. Desks line the ground, at least a dozen. At the front of the room, the largest desk lies in front of a long board across the wall.

We're in a classroom.

I turn back to the window.

"Dawn," Aris begins.

"Don't talk to me!" Eyes fly back to the pair of them, looking between the two. "I know what you've been up to, Aris. You're talking to Teresa." He flinches, but I continue. "And Jay. What's your shucking deal? You had the opportunity to run back to your friends, but you didn't. Are you spying too?"

"Believe it or not, I'm not a big fan of the girls," Jay steps closer to me. His jaw is straight, and his eyes are firm. Then, they break and look down at the ground. "Unless you hadn't noticed, they aren't the biggest fans of mine."

"Yet, somehow they love Sheil and Lott?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Well, they weren't screwing two different girls, were they?" Jay copies my motion. "And, please, would you not talk about them like you know them? You've never even had a conversation with them."

I roll my eyes, staring up at the ceiling. I don't get how they could just willing leave each other like that. However, I did the exact same thing and I care about Leo more than anything, and even though Michelle is a pain, I worry about her too. I don't like being away from them either. Walking through the Scorch without them feels wrong.

Jay averts his eyes, and I realize maybe he feels the same as I do.

"To be clear, I am not communicating with Teresa anymore," Aris offers, his voice low. "She told me she could get Rachel back. I was stupid."

Rachel, again. Aris backs away, leaving the room at the mention of her name. I look to Jay, expecting him to follow Aris, but he doesn't.

"Rachel was a bit of a stick," he tells me, looking over. "Did anyone tell you what she did?"

"Solved the maze," I offer, distracted.

Jay shakes his head. Again, his face is dead serious. His black hair hangs about him in every direction, and he shakes his head back and forth.

"Not just that," he begins. "She's the reason Emil died."

"What do you mean?" I ask, trying to press forward.

Jay brushes me off. "I don't know. I wasn't there. Rachel told Beth something, and Beth confronted him. Sonya and Lott were there, and neither would say what happened, but Sonya said it wasn't Beth. Emil killed himself because of something Beth said. Then Beth left, came back, and killed Rachel.

"None of that is the point," Jay cuts himself off, looking back up at me. He hops down off the desk and takes a few steps forward. "Whatever Aris told you to tell Minho, tell him. Aris is rarely wrong."

With that, Jay turns around and leaves the room. I am left alone with my thoughts.