Tired of Running

62|| regrouping

// the horrors of the night
melt away under the warm
glow of survival of the day \\

   •

   Harper stumbled up a mound of sand; her breath rapid and hitched.  Minho's hand was on her elbow securely, "Hey..." His sad eyes met hers.  Harper looked down as she struggled for breath, "Minho-"  Part of her wanted to just give up- to take the gun just like Winston; but she couldn't.  Not here.  Not with Minho.  The buzzing in her head had amplified, making headaches a frequent visitor.  She pulled at Minho's hand, her own fingers lacing into it.  On top of the sand mound she caught her breath; she could see almost everything.  Run down buildings- leaving only unsturdy foundations.  Harper could see the mountains, and the slowly setting sun- she could see how far they had to go. 

    When Harper closed her eyes and really focused, she could stop the voices, and the buzzing.  Newt's smile played in her mind, his soothing and familiar accent.  Harper pulled her knees to her chest, keeping her eyes closed.  She became aware of Minho's arms around her, hugging her from behind- or maybe she imagined it.  His breath hit her neck, reminding her she wasn't alone yet- her mind hadn't taken control just yet.  Sometimes she still felt his lips on her's; kissing him had been the most normal thing she had experienced in her short, chaotic life.  The thought made her stomach twist and her heart skip; always breaking into a small smile when he wasn't looking, yet it felt wrong.  Was she Newt's?  Newt had never kissed her like that.  But Harper knew she had feelings for Newt- though now she might have feelings for Minho...  She shook her head; this wasn't important.  Exhaling, she stood to her feet once again.  "Min..."  The boy was still spread out on the ground, his breath rising and falling slowly with sleep.  Harper knelt next to him; his hair was stuck to his sweaty forehead, eyes closed.  He looked more peaceful than he had since the early days in the glade.  She pushed his hair off his forehead, "Hey..."  Minho's eyes fluttered open, "What-" he spoke in a groggy, dazed voice.  "Come on, we'd better move..."  The boy stood to his feet, sighing.

   After walking what had to have been most of the day, Minho insisted that they take a break.  Harper, of course, debated him at this fact.  "Minho, look at me; we don't have time."  Minho grabbed her wrists, meeting her eyes softly.  "You need to rest- I need to rest.  Okay?  Just- Please?"  Harper sighed as she slid down against building's shambles.  They had reached what used to be a populated city, but was now just a relic of the sun flares and the disease.  Harper felt her eyes closing as she leaned against Minho- she was always tired, but sleep wouldn't find her friends or stop the rapidly growing disease in her head. 

    Harper remembered falling asleep but soon she was being shook awake roughly.  "Hey!  Don't touch her!"  Harper sat up in a panic, jumping to her feet, pulling her gun out.  "Whoa- !"  A girl stood in front of her, her own gun pointed to her.  "Let's not be stupid."  Her voice was deep and it was obvious she was the leader.  She had dark skin and dreadlocks, she was pretty-  she looked familiar.  Minho had jerked away from the two that had been holding them, both looking confused.  "Aris!?"  Harper stepped forward, pushing away from Minho and standing at gun point.  "Harper?"  The head girl turned to look at Aris, "Aris?  You know these two?"  It had clicked with Minho as they looked at each other coldly.  "Where is everyone else?  Aris..."  Panic filled her instantly; what had happened that he wasn't with the group.  "I don't-"  "Harriet!"  The blond spoke up, "They're like us..."  Harriet, apparently, knit her eyebrows, looking at them carefully, "Group A?"  Minho hesitated, glaring at her.  Harriet rolled her eyes, grabbing at Harper's shirt, pulling it down by her neck, "A8."  She looked at Harper softly, "She's not immune..."  Harper looked to the ground, but this comment set Minho off, "Obviously she's not shucking immune!  Look I don't know who you slintheads are but we just want to find our friends."  Harriet studied him, looking between he and Harper; a small smirk danced on her lips, "What are your names?" 

   Minho just glared at her with the same fire and stubbornness he always had.  Harper watched him with raised eyebrows in amusement, "That's Minho, I'm Harper.  Group A.  We were in a maze and-"  Harriet nodded, "I know...  Aris told us about you.  He was in our group."  Minho still didn't move, so Harper nudged his hand with her own, "Min..."  The blond spoke up, "We have someone that can help her...  And someone you might want to see."  Harper's eyes softened, looking to Minho expectantly, "If they're subjects, they'll be just as against WICKED as us."  Minho sighed as his eyes shifted to her.  The girls and Aris had started walking again, not waiting, knowing they would follow.  Minho shook his head, "Fine but I still don't trust them."   Harper smirked in amusement, "Good to know, I don't either."  Minho smiled, draping his arm over her shoulder as they followed.  Whatever lay ahead they would meet together; even if it was death.