Demolished Love | Death Cure

Disable

Do you have fan art? Send it to me through Instagram (Shuckoffgreenie) or Email (Acreativeblur@gmail.com) ❤️

  "Are you real?" I ask, tempted to reach out and touch her, just to make sure she's not an illusion of my mind.

  "No. I'm a unicorn. Yes I'm real," She replies, rolling her eyes. She takes a sigh of relief and tucks her gun into her back pocket. "What hell are you guys doing here?"

  "Nice to see ya too, shank." Minho mutters from behind me. I step in his toe, earning an ouch shuckface. But even though they helped us get through the Scorch, we left them behind. Sure, it wasn't our fault, but I wasn't sure if we could still trust her.

  "After that stunt you all pulled back in the Scorch, I should just shoot all your pretty faces," Brenda threatens. But she is still relaxed. "But I won't. Because I want an explanation before I kill you."

  "Aww, the Crank thinks we're pretty." Minho coos. This time, I kick him in the shin.

  "I'm immune." Is all Brenda says in response.

  This sparks my interest. "Wait, you're immune? How'd Wicked not find out?"

  "I have been hiding. Spent my entire life in the shadows," She nods, thinking back. "As much fun as this little reunion is, I suppose I am responsible for getting you some food and water."

  She whips around, trench coat flying behind her as she walks toward the shelter at the edge of the town.

  I quickly run after her, the others following in suit. Newt grabs my hand and leans into my ear. "Are you sure?"

  "Don't worry about your girlfriend, Newt. She'll be fine." Brenda says, still walking to the building.

  Newt keeps his fingers interlocked with mine as we follow Brenda, shielding our faces from the sand getting picked up by the wind. The air would be a fine temperature if it weren't for the cold breeze nipping at our noses. As the town gets closer, I see how awful it really is. Even a hundred feet away, I can smell the awful odor wafting from it, urine and roadkill. The streets are littered with broken pieces of buildings, street lamps that once illuminated the roads now smashed in and bent in half.

  We reach the building Brenda leads us to. "Jorge and I are the only immunes, of course we have to pretend we aren't though."

  A puzzled look crosses my face. "Why?"

  A chuckle escapes her lips. "They hate the healthy. While everyone else has this disease eating away at their brains, some people never have to worry about the effects. I would hate 'Em too, if I was sick. They call us Munies. Be careful, they may end up slitting your throat out here." She says it so lightly, sending a shudder through my bones.

  "Then why do you and Jorge live with non immunes?" I ponder.

  "It's all about survival. Once you've been like this your whole life, you learn what you need to do to live. Strength is in numbers. Cranks like to join packs and mobs, lowers their chances of getting attacked by other crazy fellas." She explains, stopping as we reach and door locked up in chains. She pulls a key out, wiggling it in the lock and opening the door. It's illuminated with orange and yellow light on the inside.