Tired of Running

82|| sanctuary city

// there was a wonderful
structure to the city;
and it put my cares to rest \\

         Newt woke with a start, as the car once again drove over a bump.  Sighing, he sat up and rubbed the grogginess from his eyes, "Someone else should drive this shucking thing,"  The sun was coming up over the distant hills, which meant they had a few moments before the Scorch's heat would burn down once again.  Newt cleared his throat, "How far have we gone?"  Thomas was looking down at a map, "Not sure, I think—"  Brenda snorted, "We're lost.  There's no straight shot to The Last City!  God knows where we are right now!" Jorge stretched, keeping his foot on the gas.  Thomas cocked his eyebrow, "Not really much of a city, is it? I only see desert and wasteland..." Frypan laughed, "I think the world was always like that, Thomas." Newt stayed quiet, watching the landscape pass outside the window, frowning. They were close, but still very far from getting into W.I.C.K.E.D.

Another hour in the car and the shucking bumpy roads, and Newt was getting more anxious and less optimistic. "Denver was the last safe city. They called it a Sanctuary City- where people could go for safety- to escape the virus. Last I knew it was overrun... I can tell you now, it won't be easy to get in. There will be crazies running the place, security is probably even more strict." Newt smacked Thomas on the arm, nodding towards the window, "Unless they found another way to keep them out..."
Jorge let out a swear, and it wasn't glader slang- he slammed on the breaks so hard Newt had to catch himself on the back of the front seat.
The Last City was certainly a sanctuary.
There were walls all the way around it.