black veil ◦ scorch trials || thomas

22.

     Jorge stared at her for a moment. He shook his head. "If we go out there, we go down, too. Our best chance is to leave now. We won't do much good if we're caught, too."

     Evan's body flushed, her eyes narrowing. "We can't just leave them here. We have to do something. They helped us. Now it's our turn."

     "Evan," Brenda said softly. "Jorge's right. We can't help them if WICKED takes us, too."

     Feeling helpless, Evanna turned back and peered over the barrier again. Her fists were clenched by her side. Everything she was looking at now only fueled a burning anger. An anger that may or may not prove to be useful later on, if given the chance.

     "Brenda!"

     She knew it was him. She didn't avert her eyes, didn't turn around. Brenda shot up and grabbed Thomas by the back of his jacket. She cursed at him and pulled him along, pushing him down so he was shielded.

     "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Brenda asked, annoyed.

     Evan didn't move, though her focus was no longer on WICKED or the Right Arm. An explosion went off close to her and she flinched. Her shoulder collided with Brenda's. The girl looked at her, and so did Thomas.

     His wide-eyed expression and parted lips disappeared faster than any speeding bullet. His lips were set in a grim line, jaw tight and eyes narrowed. His knuckles were white. It felt like a punch to the gut, and Evan couldn't block it.

     "The hell is she doing here?" Thomas spat, tone venomous.

     Evan recoiled. Jorge dismissed him. He turned to the others, voice rushed as he spoke. "We have to go. Now, while we still have a chance."

     Brenda nodded, grip tightening on the rifle. Thomas shook his head and pushed himself up. "I gotta go find the others."

     Jorge grabbed his wrist and yanked him down. "No! No, look! Look at them, Thomas. They're barely holding out there. You can't help them."

     "I don't care. I have to help them."

     Thomas stood up again. He halted when the truck was hit by an electric grenade. His eyes widened as he watched electricity bolts crawl over the truck and his friends, bringing them to their knees. Evan gasped and cursed under her breath. She turned and leaned with her back against the barrier.

     Her gaze was unfocused, clouded with shock. She heard the helicopter come closer until it met the ground, its choppers slowly coming to a stop. She wanted to look up. She wanted to see – see... who? Newt? Frypan? Evan wasn't sure anymore.

     "I'm sorry," Jorge whispered as he placed a hand on Evanna's shoulder but looked at Thomas. "There's just nothing you can do for them. If we don't move now, we won't be better off."

     The boy nodded. He spoke with a distant voice, hollow. Evan didn't look him in the eye as he faced the others. "You guys gotta go right now."

     "What?"

     "They're not looking for you. You'll be safe, okay, but you have to go," he paused, then added, "now."

     "Thomas..." Brenda trailed off, not knowing what to say. Evanna stared at her hands, at the small gun that lay on the ground not too far from her. She could grab it. It was within reach.

     "I can't leave without them," Evan knew then that she couldn't leave either. Not without Frypan, Aris or Newt. Not without Minho. Thomas sounded as hopeless as she felt. "Go."