Subject of the Flame | Maze Runner [2]

TWENTY-ONE

On the floor, Minho was yelling a string of obscene profanities. He'd wrestled Jorge underneath him and pinned him down with his thighs. Minho landed a few punches before Jorge kicked upwards, pushing Minho off of him.

"Minho!" Thomas shouted, rushing forward. "Stop!"

Electra fought to haul herself free, but Newt pulled her in closer, squeezing as hard as he could. Jorge tackled Minho to the ground, but Minho punched straight up, right into the Crank's nose. The shock allowed Minho to roll back on top of Jorge, where another string of punches continued.

"Newt, let go of me, I swear to god." She thrashed harder in his grip, and she could feel it loosening.

"A little help here!" Newt yelled, and Electra felt another pair of arms holding her back, she recognized the arms belonged to Frypan.

She tried kicking backwards but the boys lifted her off the floor. She flailed her legs without making contact. Ropes fell from the ceiling and in unison, Cranks began streaming down from above. Some jumped all the way down, rolling as they hit the floor, while others hastily climbed down the rope.

Thomas tackled Minho, sending them flying off Jorge's body. "There's more of them up there!" Thomas screamed, squeezing Minho into a similar pin Electra was in. "You have to stop! They'll kill you! They'll kill all of us!"

The Cranks quickly gathered in a pack as they dropped down. Some were men, others were women, and some were even teenagers. There were maybe fifteen in total, and they all looked frail yet dangerous. Their skin hung off their bones, and their hair was covered in grime and mats. Their eyes looked alive yet barely human. Jorge, wiping blood from his nose, staggered to his feet before taking his position at the front of the group.

"Wait!" Thomas shouted. "Please wait!"

Jorge whispered something incomprehensible to a Crank behind him, covering his mouth with his hand. Electra imagined the Crank was ordering their death sentence. Thomas loosened his grip on a now calmer Minho but still had a protective hand on his friend's back.

"Please give me a minute," Thomas said, slowly nodding at the group of Cranks. "Won't do you people any good to... hurt us."

"Won't do us any good?" Jorge countered, spitting bloody saliva onto the ground. "It'll do me a lot of good. That, I can guarantee, hermano."

With a slight backward nod of his head, the Cranks brought out their weapons. Some wielded rusty kitchen knives, others had managed to scavenge full-blown machetes, black spikes that looked like they'd been pulled directly from railroad tracks, or even broken glass with red tinting the razor-sharp edges.

Electra tried to reach for her knife, slowly to not alert the monsters, but she was still too heavily restrained by the two boys. Newt and Frypan seemed too frightened to realize they'd both tightened their grip on her.

"Let me go," she whispered as low as she could, but the only response she got was Newt slowly shaking his head.

Stupid, stupid boys, she thought, shifting her gaze from one Crank's weapon to the next. There were too many people for her to possibly take at once, but she hated feeling so defenceless at this moment.

"Listen." Thomas continued trying to plead. "There's something about us. We're not just random shanks who showed up on your doorstep. We're valuable. Alive, not dead."

"Valuable?" Jorge raised his eyebrows. His anger from before vanished in replacement for a weird sparkle in his eyes. Perhaps curiosity.

"Me and you. Ten minutes. Alone. That's all I ask. Bring all the weapons you need."