𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦, thomas (tmr)

Chapter Thirty Six

The ground shook their feet, ever so slightly, but just enough that it was noticeable. A gust of sand swept towards their feet, the thin layer of it jolted from the ground by the lightning hitting the terrain. 

Another strike hit the ground. A flash of white light appeared, temporarily obscuring their vision, closer than the first one.

Then another. 

And another. 

And another.

"Okay guys, we gotta go!"

Thomas's panicky words returned Clara back down to their reality: the fact they were about to be caught in the midst of a lightning storm. She scrambled to pick up her scattered things from the ground and then lurched into motion.

They barely knew where they were going. They were intent on the lights in the distance; without knowing what they were, or who may be there. At that second, it didn't matter.

They were caught in a situation of life or death. The choice was either to die in a lightning storm, or risk whatever perils may lay ahead at the civilisation in the distance. It was a no brainer decision.

But as the lightning bolts hit closer and closer, Clara wondered if the decision laid out of her hands. She couldn't help but think that no matter how fast they ran, something awful was going to happen in the storm.

And she hated the fact she was right.

They were so, so close to reaching a warehouse that would've sheltered them from the danger. As they sprinted past trashed cars and empty gas tanks, the impending lightning bolt hit the ground only a few feet from their feet.

Well, it was closer than that for Minho.

Clara was sent flying onto the ground, hands and knees scraping the concrete harshly. A groan left her lips as pain coursed through her system, but the instinct to survive was so much stronger, and she had staggered up onto her feet within moments.

Her head whipped around to see who else was affected by the lightning. She knew she wasn't the closest to where it struck. She certainly knew she wasn't the only who was thrown from her feet.

She first spotted Thomas. He was stumbling forwards with a hand over each ear like a strange noise was echoing through them; bringing her attention to the ringing in her own ears.

And then Clara saw Minho.

Still sprawled on his back from when the lightning hit, smoke from the bolt was rising off his body in what Clara assumed to be agonising pain. He was motionless, seemingly lifeless, and then she felt like she couldn't breathe.

Everyone was at his side in a heartbeat, reaching out a hand to haul him up from the ground. Aris and Newt supported the boy's weight by slinging one of his arms around each of their shoulders, and Clara joined the others in anxiously yelling encouragements to run faster and reach the warehouse that was mere metres away.

Frypan ushered them all inside, and as soon as they were in the sheltered metal framework of the warehouse, they could drop Minho gently to the floor and try and will him alive. Clara shifted his weight so he was half resting on her lap and therefore tilted up to the rest of the group. He was still unconscious - at the very least - and so their voices overlapped and chorused one another as they frantically tried to wake him.

"Anyone got a light?"

"Come on, Minho."

"Minho?"

"Come on, man."

They fell silent in anticipation of the boy waking. The light shining from Newt's torch only highlighted the pale colour in Minho's cheeks and the lack of life in his body. It was such a contrast of what he was usually like: cheeky, sarcastic, full of life. The loss of spirit was something that Clara imagined had been present since they left the familiarity of the Glade. It was the same in all of them, she guessed.