World Gone Mad (TMR fic 3)

Chapter 48

I meet up with Thomas a few minutes later, ready to head out on our mission. I have a backpack with three cans of spray paint and a knife, but other than that I just have myself to rely on.

"This is Lawrence," Thomas says, nodding at the man who will be driving us to the Berg. A pilot is also coming with us, but she isn't paying attention to us. Apparently Thomas doesn't know her name.

Vince comes out to see us off, everyone in the warehouse quieting as we prepare to begin the plan, and the bear of a man nods solemnly. "You know the plan. You'll do well, kids. Give us an opening, and we'll do the rest."

I feel my heart pinch when I look at him, and I take a step forward. "Vince?"

"Yes?" he growls.

"Good luck."

He smiles a little and pulls me into a tight hug. "Go show them what you're made of, firebird."

I turn to everyone else in the Right Arm, knowing it's my job to give them some sort of encouragement. They're watching, waiting to see what I have to say.

All I can think about is Icarus.

"We're dying," I say, my voice softer than anyone - including myself - expects. "Even us Immunes. There's nowhere safe for us anymore. We're dying, and I'll burn in hell before I let WICKED outlive me. I never had much, but they took the few things I did have. My cat, my family, my memories... WICKED destroyed me, so I'm going to destroy them back. I'll make them bleed for every time they hurt me. I will ruin their shrine of false science."

I see a few of them nod sharply, lifting their chins in a defiant salute.

I'll die by their sides, I'll fight with my makeshift family until there is nothing left.

"Are you nervous?" Thomas asks as I pile into the back of the car with him.

"Maybe. I don't know."

"We're going to be fine," he says, and I get the idea that he's mostly talking to himself.

I stare out of the window. The difference between the city I saw first and the current state of things is startling. It's a wreck, even touched by the dawning light that slips between clouds. Denver wasn't pretty before, but it's shocking how much has changed.

Cranks roam the streets, any stashes of supplies becoming battlegrounds as they scrap and scramble for things they don't even need. Thankfully, there aren't very many of them on the roads we take. Lawrence drives like a maniac, trying to get us to the Bergs owned by the Right Arm.

My hands clench and unclench in my lap until I distract them by playing with my knife. I'm thinking about Greenbean. It's driving me crazy that after losing Newt, the one person who could keep me sane, I find someone who needs me. I can't afford to lose control, not when I'm the only 'Munie in his life.

I don't want to have to fight anymore. I'm tired, and I don't have Newt. Isn't it all over for me anyway? Why did I pick up another reason to keep going? Maybe I can find another home for him. Maybe there's someone else who is Immune and who will take him in. Maybe...

But I don't know who would want another mouth to feed, another life to fight for. Besides, I can't deny the fact that I'm already really attached to him. I don't want to give him up. Even to die defeating WICKED?

"Woah," Lawrence says, and the car starts slowing down. We're driving up an overpass that seems to jut into the dark, cloudy sky. At the summit is a huge mass of Cranks, fighting and tangling with each other. They're scrapping for something, I can't quite tell what.

As we get closer it becomes visible that it's actually a huge pile of garbage, scraps of paper dancing in the light breeze

Three vehicles are driving on the overpass just beyond the Cranks. They're swerving around each other in a bizarre and dangerous dance, clearly driven by Cranks. Two of the cars catch sight of us and gun it in our direction, but the third, an old truck, wasn't paying attention.

They collide with an awful impact, one of the cars flipping over the truck that got in the way. It's a huge wreck. The vehicles burst into flames.

The pile of garbage starts to catch fire as well, albeit slower. Cranks scramble around the flames, fighting even more violently.

"Yes," Lawrence hisses, and he starts driving past the result of the collision.

"Wait, stop the car!" Thomas's voice surprises me, and I follow his gaze. When I see what he's looking at my chest collapses.

Newt is staring at us, framed by the chaos we're passing. Time slows for me, and I can see the breeze toying with the long ends of his hair as fire flares up in the background.

"What?" Lawrence says, but I'm already opening the door, stumbling onto the rough pavement as I drop from the moving vehicle, ignoring the jolt of pain.

Thomas is talking to Lawrence, but I don't care. Newt's eyes are veiled with insanity, but I don't care. Cranks are screaming and shouting, but I don't care. I didn't have a chance to say goodbye to him the last time I saw him, I won't let this opportunity slip past.

So I run towards him, my backpack thumping against me, and fling myself into his arms.

Some instinct deep within him catches me. I can see his eyes growing clearer.

"Ash."

~~
A/N: I wrote this scene and it's still agonizing and terrifying to read. Ahhh. Stress.