Evelyn and Jorge stood rooted to the spot, staring daggers at each other.

"Please give me a minute," Thomas pleaded. "Won't do you people any good to ... hurt us."

"Won't do us any good?" the Crank said; he spit a wad of red goo from his mouth. "It'll do me a lot of good. That, I can guarantee, hermano." He balled both hands into fists at his sides.

Then he cocked his head, barely enough to be noticed. But as soon as he did, the Cranks behind him pulled all kinds of nasty things from within the hidden depths of their ragged clothes. Knives. Rusted machetes. Black spikes that had maybe once been in a railroad somewhere. Shards of glass with red-tinged smudges on their razor-thin tips. One girl, who couldn't have been more than thirteen years old, held a splintered shovel, its metal scoop ending in a jagged edge like the teeth of a saw.

Evelyn knew deep down she wouldn't be able to fight all of them, and she knew only a few Gladers carried some kind of weapon, but if she had to, she'd go down fighting. Evelyn growled. Her breath was coming in icy puffs now, despite how hot it was already inside the building. The ground where she was standing had frost on it. She saw, one or two of the cranks shift nervously.

"Listen," Thomas said, slowly walking up beside Evelyn. He glanced at her, meeting her eyes he mad a small gesture to lower the axe. Evelyn blinked a few times, frowning. Thomas's eyes shifter ever so slightly over her shoulder, and gave them a dip of his chin. He then turned towards Jorge.

"There's something about us. We're not just random shanks who showed up on your doorstep. We're valuable. Alive, not dead."

The anger on Jorge's face lessened ever so slightly. Maybe a spark of curiosity. But what he said was "What's a shank?"

Evelyn felt a hand on her bicep. She turned her head and came face to face with big melted chocolate brown eyes, which were wide with fear.

"Evelyn, Sweetheart..please..." Newt quietly begged, "take a deep breath it's all right."

Evelyn blinked a few more times, clamping her eyes shut and she shook her head violently.

"Newt! Make it stop!" She whispered, "the voices are back! Make it stop!" She dropped the hatchet with a clang onto the ground.

She sunk to her knees, holding her hand, Newt held her and sank down with her. He reached out and slid the hatchet away. Teresa bent down and picked it up. Newt held her firmly pressed to his chest and rocked her gently, whispering quietly into her ear while Thomas pleaded for their lives.

"...me and you. Ten minutes. Alone. That's all I ask. Bring all the weapons you need." Thomas offered.

Jorge laughed at that, more of a wet snort than anything. "Sorry to burst your bubble, kid, but I don't think I'll need any."

Jorge paused. He watched the girl on the ground huddled in the arms of someone obviously dear to her.

Evelyn had her face pressed into Newt's chest, breathing hard still, but her hands weren't frosty, her eyes were back to their regular bright green. She shivered, and her hands looked like they had frost bite still, but she had lost the angry Crank rage. She held onto Newt's shirt tightly, trying not to whimper.

Jorge's eyes snapped to Thomas.

"Ten minutes," the Crank finally said. "Rest of you stay here, watch these punks. If I give the word, let the death games begin."

He held a hand out, gesturing to a dark hallway that led from the room on the side across from the broken doors.

"Ten minutes," he repeated, "oh. And She comes with." He pointed to Evelyn.

The room went silent. The tension rose again.

"No." Thomas and Newt said at the same time.

Jorge raised a hand, and the group of cranks took a few menacing steps forwards, raising their wild weapons.

"No." Evelyn yelled. "Enough." She pulled out of Newt's arms and stood up.

"What? No Evelyn!" Newt scrambled to his feet.

"It's fine Newt. If the shank does something stupid it's easier to kill him alone in a room then out here with his twisted group if crazies." She said raising her voice. Her hands sparked with the frosty power.

She turned towards Jorge who was smirking at her. Thomas had a look of trepidation, it's how Evelyn felt, but she had learned long ago to mask her feelings. This was no different.

"Well lead the way." She spat.

Thomas turned and walked through the door. Evelyn followed behind him.

This hall smelled of mildew and rot; water dripped from the ceiling, sending out creepy echoes that for some awful reason made her think of blood. She felt a crawling in her head. She shook it violently.

"Just keep going," Jorge said from behind. "There's a room at the end with chairs. Make even the slightest move against me, everyone dies."

Evelyn growled, and clenched her fists. Thomas however decided to speak. "I ain't stupid. You can cut the whole touch guy act."

After walking the hall for a minute, they came to a door. Thomas hesitated, but Evelyn reached around him and opened the door, matching inside. Thomas followed. Evelyn had to stop because the room was pitch black. There was a loud flumping sound of heavy cloth being whipped in the air. A hot, blinding light appeared, and Evelyn had to shield her eyes with her forearms. She could only squint at first, then eventually dropped her arms and was able to see okay; she realized that the Crank had pulled a large sheet of canvas from a window. An unbroken window. Outside, there was only sunlight and concrete.

"Sit." His voice was less gruff than it was a minute ago. Jorge pointed to a small table that had four chairs. Thomas and Evelyn shared a look and then each pulled. Chair out and sat.  Evelyn crossed her arms tight across her chest.

Jorge sat down on the other side, then leaned forward and put his elbows on the table, hands clasped. His face was blank, his eyes glued on Thomas. Totally ignoring Evelyn.

"Talk."

Evelyn saw him shift. He glanced at her and then back at Jorge. He took a shaky breath and then said, "okay." He paused again, swallowed. And then started again.

"Look, I heard you mention WICKED back there. We know all about those guys. It'd be really interesting to hear what you have to say about them."

Jorge didn't budge; his expression didn't change. "I'm not the one talking right now. You are."

"Yeah, I know." Thomas scooted his chair a little closer to the table. Then he pushed it back and put a foot up on his knee. Evelyn rolled her eyes. This was going to take forever. Thomas settled for his one kegg bouncing and twisting his fingers together.

"Well, this is hard because I don't know what you know. So I guess I'll just pretend like you're stupid to the whole thing." He started.

Jorge cut him off. "I'd strongly advise you never to use the word stupid with me again."

Thomas had to force himself to swallow. "Just a figure of speech."

Evelyn wasn't as fearful as Thomas. She was getting impatient with him. And it seemed so was Jorge.

"Get on with it." He snapped.

Thomas took another deep breath. Evelyn cut him off.

"We used to be a group of sixty guys, 58 shanks and two girls. Me and Tessa back there.  Now we're down to thirteen. I watched each and every one of them die and I could do nothing to stop WICKED killing my family. I don't know all the details, but WICKED is some kind of organization that's doing a whole load of nasty things to us for some reason. We started in a place called the Glade, inside a stone maze, surrounded by these creatures called Grievers."

Jorge had flicked his eyes to her. Again there was something in them that made her narrow her eyes, he wasn't looking at her like he wanted to eat her eyeballs. Or in fear. She couldn't place the look. And it bugged her. She wanted to smack her head on the table, see if that brought something to the surface. But she refrained from doing it.

Jorge's eyes snapped back to Thomas, his face impassive, "I want your story."

Thomas told him everything. What it had been like in the Maze, how they'd escaped, how they thought they were safe, how it ended up being just another layer of the WICKED plan. He told him about the Rat Man, and the mission he'd set them on: to survive long enough to make it one hundred miles to the north, to a place he referred to as the safe haven. He related how they'd gone down the long tunnel, been attacked by the flying silver goop, and made the trek across the scorch, finding the girls in a shrieking shack, the Crank Mall, loosing Winston, the lighting storm. He told the crank everything; the whole story. And the more Thomas talked, the crazier the story sounded to Evelyn.

"They can't be doing this just to be nasty. What'd be the point?"

"Speaking of points," Jorge responded, the first he'd spoken in at least ten minutes, the allotted time already gone. "What's yours?"

Thomas paused, taking a deep breath.

"Well?" Jorge pushed.

Thomas went for it. "If you ... help us ... I mean, if you, or maybe just a few of you, go with us and help us make it to the safe haven ..."

"Yeah?"

"Then maybe you'll be safe, too....They told us we have the Flare. And that if we make it to the safe haven, we'll all be cured. They said they have a cure. If you help us get there, maybe you can get it, too."

Evelyn couldn't help it, she scoffed and rolled her eyes. Thomas elbowed her. Jorge's eyes flicked to her.

"You have a different opinion?"

"It's fine. Whatever." Evelyn shrugged.

Jorge looked at her so long she wasn't sure what was going on, but she held his gaze.

"Do you believe in the cure?" He finally asked her.

"Doesn't matter what I believe. Those are my friends, my family. I will do what it takes to see them safe."

"Indeed."

Jorge paused, "Thomas? Leave us." He waved a hand dismissively.

"What? No!" Thomas sputtered, leaning forwards and then jumping to his feet. "No!"

Jorge slammed his hands into the table and stood up, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"I said. Leave us." He hissed.

"It's fine Tommy." Evelyn said, "Go tell Newt to stop pacing and worrying."

Thomas deflated.

"Be safe Evy." He whispered.

"Always."

The door closed and Jorge sank into the chair across from her. He ran a hand down his face. He suddenly didn't look like a crank, but a tired middle aged man. His demeanor changed so fast, Evelyn's mind spun.

"Want some water?" He asked her suddenly, getting up from the table.

Evelyn blinked for a second. She watched as Jorge went to a crate in the corner and pulled out two water bottles and a box of crackers. He came back to the table and handed her the bottle. He ripped the box open and took a handful and held the box out for her. She hesitated.

"I didn't poison them." He said and stuffed his mouth, her stomach growled and he raised an eyebrow. She took a handful.

"Alright Hermana. Your story."

Evelyn shoved the rest of the cracker into her mouth took a swig of water and started from the beginning.

She explained waking up with 20 boys, having to figure everything out. Figuring out she had powers to heal others. She told him about how the creators used the boys to perfect their positions, how she had to watch, she told him about watching each boy come up the box and how each of them died, how she almost lost her life a few times trying to save them. She told Jorge about Hephaestus and how he went from a machine to sly on them to a real lizard. She talked about spending a night in the maze and almost dying, figuring out the clues, she told him about the mind control on Newt and Gally and Alby. She told him about how she somehow switched her power and she took a life. Escaping the Maze, waking up strapped to a chair by Janson, raising Chuck back from the dead, healing Jeff, manipulated into killing the guards. Waking up in the scorch, having her powers explode in the mall. Realizing Newt is the only one to help bring her back, saving Minho with them. She told him everything.

"You left out...you're infected."

Evelyn nodded. She pulled her shirt sleeve up and pulled the bandage away enough for Jorge to see. She watched his face for any reaction. All she saw was a sad tired look.

"You don't believe in a cure."

"No. I don't. I can save others, I brought back a child from the dead. But I can't cure this. I tried. Janson made me try. I just made the past gone crank clean fresh and docile. It was still a crank. Just clean with thick beautiful hair and clean skin." She spat bitterly.

Jorge's eyes looked heavy and sad.

"Do you remember anything else?"

"A memory or two from before the maze. That's it."

Jorge raised an eyebrow and waited. With a sigh she explained the few memories. The stone dungeon, Janson telling her she couldn't leave, she was half way through telling him the memory of the first time she used her powers on a big injury when she stopped dead.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times. Her eyes went wide then ever before. She pushed her chair back and scrambled away. Slamming into the wall. Her chest heaving.

"You!" She whispered.

Jorge was sitting at the table, his hands clasped together, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"You...it was you!" She whispered again, "I saved you from a bullet to the heart!"

"Indeed, Evelyn. Indeed it was."