Tired of Running

51|| hitting the ground and running

// they told me that
the end is near;
we've got to get
away from here \\

    •

    Thomas was standing to his feet, his limbs shaking from exhaustion and lack of sleep.
Thunder boomed above them, coming in from the distance.  "Hey..." His voice was a dry rasp; barely audible.  "Get up."  He swallowed, trying to wet his throat and find his voice, "Get up!  I see something."
Minho and Newt were standing.  Aris was shaking Harper.  Frypan sat up, squinting, looking disheveled.  "We gotta go..."
The thunder crashed louder, lightning following, flashing.  "Come on...  Come on!"
Harper was being helped to her feet, Minho pulling her up, Newt carrying her backpack.
The run down shack nearby flashed, a popping sound following.  The shack ignited in flame, lightning striking the ground beside it again.
"Run!  Run, we have to run!"
Thomas was running, looking behind him,
checking on the others.  "Come on!"
Minho pulled Harper along behind her, stumbling sideways as another strike hit the ground feet away.  Harper stumbled, her ears ringing, landing on her face.  She screamed as her body weight fell on her arm.  Nausea surged through her, the pain asking her if she wanted to pass out.  Arms were grabbing her, pulling her up; skinny and strong- Newt.  "You okay?"  he held her close and dusted her off before starting off on a run again.  "Get inside!  Go, go, go!"
Frypan had forced a door open; sliding it, ducking inside as the monster storm raged.
A crash threw Thomas to the ground, his ears ringing, his vision blurred. 

    Someone screamed- Thomas forced himself up; the screaming escalated, "Harper?"  He stumbled forward, Frypan grabbing him and pulling him into the doorway.  He turned, seeing Minho on the ground, smoking- his clothes, hair, skin- he had been hit.
"Minho!"  Thomas started to run, only to be pulled back by Frypan.  Aris and Newt were carrying Minho.  Harper collapsed at Thomas's feet; screaming, sobbing, pleading.

Not Minho.
Not Minho.
Please not another one...
Please not Minho.
Minho, Minho, Minho.

    Thomas drown her out, grabbing Minho as soon as they had him through the door. 
They laid him on the ground, all gathering around him.  They all stared; holding their breath.  Waiting, praying.  Hoping desperately- just as they had all the many times before. Each time had the same result; the same dark, heavy feeling laid across them. 
"Come on, man..."
Thomas shook him, eyes filling with tears.
Harper's head rested on his chest, tears soaking his shirt, "Minho...  Please..."

    The boy lay there, motionless.
His hair stood up straight, smoke curling up from his clothes, his cheeks stained in ash.
The heaviness in the room was suffocating,
the room was silent as the flashlights all shone on the group.  Harper's crying commenced again, her body shaking with sobs.  She had lost him.  Her best friend.  Yet another friend.
Minho's eyes shot open, a gasp escaping his mouth, "What happened..."
Harper nearly tackled him, falling on his chest, hugging him in a desperate hug- once again forgetting about her arm.  Thomas sighed in relief; his smile finally back.
"You got struck by lightning..."
Minho's head fell back to the ground, his arm weakly embracing Harper, "Oh..."

~~~

    "What's that smell..?"
Frypan tightened his face, a repulsive look on his face.  "Wait..." Thomas was just about to back up when a screaming roar caused Harper to trip over him.  Cranks.
The flashlights were quickly flicked on, frantically shining in all directions.  They were surrounded; completely crazed cranks lunging at them from every direction.  But wait-
These cranks were chained to the wall.
Almost as if...

"I see you met our guard dogs."
The voice was female; small, but full of authority.  A figure walked out; a gun over it's shoulder.  And amazingly, the gladers wished they were just alone with the cranks.