Chapter 9: The Right Arm

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I slowly open my eyes to the distant sound of voices, everything seemed blurry at first and my ears were ringing for a brief moment before my mind finally rendered what had occurred.

WICKED had me, they captured me. Again. But the worst part is that Thomas and Brenda had left me willingly, Thomas had called out to me but he chose to listen to Brenda and just leave.

After my vision finally cleared, I realized that I was in a helicopter, sitting across from Janson. He hadn't noticed that I was awake yet, being fully indulged in a conversation with the two pilots.

I glance to the window to be met with a bright light, my eyes sting for a moment realizing that the sun had rose during the time I was out. How long had I been out? Where were the Gladers? Where were Thomas and Brenda? I realized that it didn't matter where they were, all of them were at least out of WICKED's grasp.

"Ah, Y/n..." Janson suddenly says, and I avert my gaze to him, "How are you feeling?" I scrunch my nose at his sudden act of care, "Like shit." He chuckles to himself, "You'll feel like that for an hour or two, but soon enough the affects will wear off."

I glance to the window again, wishing that I could just jump out and leave this awful place. "WICKED's headquarters aren't too far now, you don't need to worry, Y/n. We'll get you home."

My head immediately whips to Janson, "WICKED is not my home." Janson smirks at my response, he's clearly found the easiest ways to piss me off already. "Don't you remember, Y/n? You used to work for us, WICKED is your home."

"WICKED was never my home and it never will be, can you get that straight in your head? Or do I need to throw another table on it?" Janson's smirk immediately falls, and he opens his mouth to speak when a sudden noise comes from the cockpit.

Janson turns his head around, allowing me to also get a view for myself. The first thing I noticed was the bullet-sized hole in the windshield of the helicopter, and then my eyes followed down to the slumped pilot in his seat. "What happened to him?" Janson asks, and the other pilot slowly lifts his slumped head up. "He's been shot, sir." Directly in the center of his forehead, stood a bullet-sized wound with blood trickling down his face.

"Shit!" Janson exclaims, "it's the Right Arm! Get us out of here!" The Right Arm? Damn, they have some pretty good aim to be shooting all the way up here. I then move closer to the window and stare down, we were above some sort of canyon. An abandoned road to the side of it.

"Right on it sir, we should-" The other pilot begins to say, but she suddenly falls limp too, and I look to the windshield once more to find another bullet hole.

"Dammit!" Janson yells, and with no one flying the helicopter, we were already doomed. Janson takes the female pilot and throws her body to the back of the helicopter, I glance to her for a quick second to see that the Right Arm has inflicted yet, another headshot.

The helicopter was already gliding down through the air at a rapid pace and I realized that this may be the end. But it couldn't, I wouldn't let myself die like this.

Janson, not so gracefully, climbs his way through the helicopter and to the pilot seat that the female pilot lost her life in. This is my chance, I thought.

I looked out the window once more, we were low enough for me to fall and not die, hopefully. But we were also flying above some high, what seemed very soft, sand dunes.

I open the helicopter's side door and immediately get hit with a strong gust of wind. "What the hell are you doing?" Janson yells from the pilot seat, and I look back to him with a smirk. "Making my grand escape!"

It's now or never, I thought to myself. And with that, I jumped.

Already falling at a rapid pace, I somehow flip myself over to where I would be falling onto my back and not directly onto my face. Janson's helicopter wasn't even a thought anymore as I realized how close I must be to the ground, and I suddenly felt a hot sting from the sand.

The air got knocked out of me for a second, that I expected, but I was quick to retain myself. Moving to stand up, I feel a sharp pain course through my left ankle and halfway up to my calf. I glance down to it and immediately see a bruise beginning to form.

Dammit, I thought. But I would have to keep moving, the Right Arm couldn't be too far now. Studying the area around me, my eyes laid upon that familiar canyon and abandoned road. That's not too far of a walk, I'll be able to make it, even with my new injury.

I slowly stand up, trying not to mind the constant pain coming from my ankle, and I begin my lonesome journey to the Right Arm.

~ ~ ~

Time became a blur as I trekked through the sand, only focusing on my ankle and the long distance that seemed to just be getting farther yet I was constantly moving.

The ground became easier to walk on as I reached the abandoned road, maneuvering my way through the old cars that were left here, and I begin to wonder how long they've been here for. Feeling a sudden brush against my left leg, I immediately jump back and look down to see the unfamiliar, but friendly face of a dog.

"Her name's, Honey." A feminine voice sounds, and I look over to see a girl. She seemed close to my age, light-brown skin with dark-brown hair fashioned into dreads. Her eyes a dark-brown color, which you could easily mistake for black. She wore a tan coat over a darkened color shirt, and a variety of scarves hung around her neck. Her black boots and coat stood in contrast to her brown pants.

"She's been trained to sense when someone is in pain, and that was some nasty fall you took earlier. But don't worry, it was still badass."

The girl moved closer, calling Honey to her side. "I'm Harriet." I hesitate to answer, "Y/n." A long pause stretches out between us, and I believed that we were both trying to figure each other out without even speaking.

"What are you doing here? Why did WICKED have you?" Harriet asks, and I move to gently sit myself atop the hood of a car. "My friends and I had escaped them not too long ago, we ventured out into the Scorch in search of the Right Arm, hearing that they were some sort of rebellion against WICKED, we wanted to join. But last night, we found a group of people living in some abandoned warehouse, we thought it was the Right Arm at first, but it obviously wasn't. Then it turns out, that someone at the warehouse had contacted WICKED and they found us. All of my friends escaped, except for me. I was too late."

Harriet looks down at Honey, seeming to contemplate something. "Well, Y/n. Maybe WICKED capturing you was a good thing, cause then you escaped, and now you've found the Right Arm." My breath hitches in my throat for a moment, "Are you serious?"

"She's more than serious!" Another feminine voice calls out, and I turn my head to see another girl approaching. She seemed close to my age as well, and her fair skin was nearly glowing in the sunlight. Her light-blonde hair was worn into a braid, standing out against her dark-brown eyes. Which seemed like an exact replica of Newt's, both of them sharing that same chocolate color. She wore a grey jacket over a dark-brown shirt and red scarf, her pants and boots were both a lighter shade of brown than her shirt.

"I'm Sonya." The blonde says, "And I've heard that you're, Y/n." I nod my head, Sonya definitely seemed more relaxed and bubbly than Harriet, but the two seemed to make a good pair.

"Come on, Y/n. We'll bring you to the Right Arm, give you a chance to relax!" Sonya exclaims, moving over to help me stand, she puts my arm around her shoulders, allowing me to take some weight off of my ankle as she helps me walk.

"I'm sure everyone will be excited about a new arrival, we haven't had one in a hot minute." Harriet emphasized, and I look over to her. "Everyone? How many are there?"

Harriet and Sonya smirk at each other, "You'll see!"




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