𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓼𝓽 - ᴀ ᴍᴀᴢᴇ ʀᴜɴɴᴇʀ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄ

Chapter Fifteen - Addy

My mother, who is not, in fact, a Crank, accepts my apologies, blaming it on the Flare, but it doesn't stop the chorus of sorry's from tumbling out of my mouth like snow down a mountain during an avalanche.

"Addy," she says finally, placing her hands on my shoulders with a noticable amount more of caution. "It's alright. You weren't yourself and I'm ok. There's no harm done."

I nod, shakily. Dehydration has set in, I must've cried out any moisture I'd retained prior to this. Hopefully, that will ward the demons away for a while so I can hold on to myself. I can only plead with the forces of the universe that the weakness won't welcome them to control more easily. Whatever happens, it's out of my hands.

"Let's move," Mary orders and this time, everyone follows unlike before when she told Thomas and Newt to go while I had a complete breakdown.

My brother leads the group, pointedly avoiding eye contact with me. I swallow a sob, wondering if he'll ever forgive me. Surely he knows I didn't want to do it. I had to. But, if Newt wasn't really being tortured, did I?

The blond boy looks as confused as I feel. He walks with a lilt that wrenches my heart out, deliberately far from me. He's afraid. Of me. And the worst part is, he has every reason to.

Gosh, I have got to stop crying! My tears are about the only predictable thing left in my life right now. I swipe a hand beneath my eyes, never letting them stray from the British boy that is my lifeline. My heart longs to throw myself into his arms, but my head, or what's left of it anyway, keeps me planted far from him.

As the party approaches the cave Group B has taken refuge within, a few of the girls sprinkle out, Harriet and Sonya leading the bunch of them. Immediately when I see the blond girl, my eyes dart to Newt. His jaw drops and his chocolate eyes swim with tears.

"L- Lizzy?"

Recognition flickers through her face and I can see in her eyes that she's remembering when she'd been called that before. By me. I nod as she meets my glance and allow a small smile to creep across my cheeks.

Newt doesn't allow her any more of a reaction before pulling her into a hug and whispering into her ear through happy sobs. Their reunion warms my heart and for a moment, it seems like everything might be ok. Who am I kidding, when in my life has everything been ok?

Just as I'd predicted, trouble arises. My mother's walkie talkie blares loudly, "Mary, they've figured out what we're doing. We gotta hurry. Pick someone to stay and get the Cure or get your butts out of there!"

The woman releases a string of curses. "Screw it, I'll find a way back in to get the Cure. Meet me at the rendezvous point and have Hans start disabling tracker chips. We don't have time for proper treatment, just sanitize and go." She beckons for us to follow and breaks into a run towards what I assume is the rendezvous point.

"No!" Vince's gravely voice cracks. "We've already started on the trackers, but I sure as heck ain't going to let you go in there. Send the kids. They're the ones who need the Cure. I know you don't like it," he says just as my mother opens her mouth to protest, "but if we don't do it like this, they'll die. This is their only chance."

By now, everyone stares at Mary and the device in her hand. Static intermingles with the roar of an engine and thundering of tires over hard, dry ground in the background of the man's speech. The beating of my heart pounds inside my head as I run, making it even harder to comprehend what's going on, by it's worth the strain to me.

"Fine," Mary obliges though her voice cracks in emotion. "You're right, but I'm not sending them in alone. They've got no chance without protection."

"You're not going with them!" Vince vetoes before she can even suggest it. I wonder, for a split second, if they're more than colleagues and friends from the way he knows what she'll say before she says it. "They won't take you anyway, they know you're not a subject. Heck, they know everything about you. You've got to send a few of the subjects. We've already got a volunteer on my side and I'll bet my butt that son of yours will eagerly throw himself into danger."

She's visibly distressed as a mother, but as a rebel leader, she knows he's right. "Thomas," Mary whispers, tears carving gentle curves down her face, "take your sister and any other non-immunes. Keep them safe. If you don't come back to me, I'll kill you."

She plants a kiss on his dark hair just as a nearly empty Humvee rolls in along with a cloud of dust. A man, that I assume is Vince, hops out of the driver's seat and begins to pile girls in urgently. A medic, I gather, begins to operate on the neck of the first girl immediately, to my shock. The passenger door opens to reveal a familiar face that has not been eternally betrayed by me and won't turn into a zombie by my touch, hops out.

"Minho!"

Someone gasps his name. It might've been me. I don't really know anymore. He grins confidently and says, "Who else is coming to give WICKED a taste of their own shucking medicine?"

"I like you," Harriet decides. "And Sonya and I are coming by the way."

The blonde nods in confirmation, but doesn't remove her hand from around her newly reunited brother.

"Good," Vince interjects. "Are there any other known non-immunes? Anyone acting strange even since coming to the Scorch?"

"Emmie," I speak, surprising myself with the memory.

"Ada, Charles, Emmeline, Isaac, Jackson, Naomi, Rosa, and Winston. The rest of you, are immune." The words ring in my mind. Ada is me, Charles must be Chuck, and Isaac- Isaac Newton, that must be Newt.

"Emmie," I repeat, "and Jackson, Naomi, Rosa, and Winston."

Minho's face darkens. "Winston and Jackson didn't make it."

"Neither did Rosa," Harriet says solemnly. "Naomi?" She questions into the vehicle.

A tall girl with slick black hair and sepia skin slips out of the car. I recognize her, but I don't recognize the dark circles around her eyes or limp, almost lifeless way her arms hang to her sides. "Am I going to die?" She whispers. Her height is misleading, but her voice betrays that she can't be older than fourteen.

Sympathy sends sharp, stabbing pains through my body and before I know it, she's wrapped in my embrace. "No, I won't let you."

A/N I'm sorry if this was cringy considering all of the substitutes for swearing I used. 😅 I just wanted to make sure that all readers are comfortable reading my work and swearing goes against my values. (I'm a goody two shoes, I know. Mock me all you want, I don't mind😉) Anyway, that's all. Tysm for reading! Hope you enjoyed!