tough world ✔️ | death cure minho

15

Gally scoffed, "Don't get all whiny on me. I hated you more than I had ever hated anybody in my life. But what happened in the past doesn't matter anymore. We need to talk about the future. About the end of the world."

"Wait a second there, muchacho," Jorge said, "First off, you're going to tell us every little thing that's happened. Start from the very beginning."

"I wanna know how you knew we were coming," Minho added, "And when. And who was that weird dude who delivered the message to us?"

Gally began, "The guy who gave you the note is Richard. He's a member of Right Arm —a group whose mission is to bring down our old friends and use WICKED's money and influence for things that actually matter. But they don't have the resources to disrupt an organization so huge and powerful. They have people in every city and town left on this crappy planet."

"We've heard of them," Brenda said, "But how'd you get involved?"

"They have a couple spies in the main complex at WICKED and they got to me, explained how if I faked going crazy, I'd be sent away. So they attacked my escort car and took me. Brought me here. As for how I knew you were coming, we got an anonymous message. Was it you?"

Brenda looked at Thomas, then at Jorge, "No."

"If it wasn't you, maybe it was someone at headquarters sending out an alert, trying to set up bounty hunters or whatever. Anyway, the Right Arm is planning their moves, but we've got several big problems in our hands."

"What?"

"First of all, word is that the Flare is running rampant through this whole shuck city and that all kinds of corruption is going on to hide it because the ones who are sick are government bigwigs. They're hiding the virus with the Bliss  —it slows down the Flare so people who have it can blend in with everyone else. But the virus keeps spreading. There's just no way to keep that beast out."

"What's the other problem?" Minho asked, "As if that one wasn't bad enough."

"People like us."

"People like us?" Reggie repeated, "You mean Immunes?"

"Yeah," Gally leaned forward, "They're disappearing. A little birdie told me that they're being gathered and sold to WICKED so they can continue the Trials. Start all over if they have to. Whether that's true or not, the population of Immunes in this city and other has been halved in the last six months, and most of them are disappearing without a trace."

"Don't most people hate the Munies?" Thomas said anxiously, "Maybe they're being killed or something."

"I doubt that. My little birdie is a reliable source, and this reeks of WICKED to the core."

"Do you know about Teresa and a bunch of other people who also escaped today?" Thomas asked.

"Yeah. Who did you think my little birdie was?"

"Teresa," Thomas whispered.

"She said she couldn't agree with them starting the cycle all over again. Said something about hoping to find you, too. But there's one more thing."

Reggie groaned, "That doesn't sound so good."

Gally shrugged, "Never does these days. One of our people out looking for your group came across a strange rumor. Said it was somehow related to all these people escaping from WICKED."

"Why?" Minho asked, "What's the rumor?"

"There's a huge bounty out for a guy named Hans who used to work there, lives here now. WICKED thinks you came here for him, and they want him dead."

〰️

FRANKIE AND NEWT had finished their slow, limpy tour around the Berg.

There was the common area, with the cockpit ahead. On its left wing were the sleeping quarters, while on its right were a bathroom, a pantry, and a small storage.

They went through Jorge's personal stuffs, making up unbelievable stories behind every photo they found and judging the man's poor fashion taste. There was a photo of his young self and Brenda, looking no more than ten years old, standing on beige mineral rocks. There was nothing but blue sky and greeneries behind them, forming a picturesque landscape of a background.

Then they opened every crate and box in the Berg. There were old memoirs and flight notes, Launchers and guns, along with incomprehensible paperworks.

Then, since they were bored out of their wits, they began to rummage through the pantry for snacks or food to eat.

"Anything you want?"

Frankie grabbed any carton box and canned goods she could reach and read out their names for options: "Cereal? Tuna? Tomato soup? Baked beans? Sweet corn? Salmon? Mushroom?"

"I said I'm not hungry!" Newt suddenly growled.

No, he hadn't said that he wasn't hungry before.

He took the closest can and hurled it to the pantry's wall. It bounced off with a loud clang, fell to the ground, and rolled over to the foot of the square dining table.

"Newt—"

"Quit yapping for a minute, Frank! Leave me alone!"

Frankie sighed and took a long, deep breath. It was the Flare again, wasn't it?

"Newt!" She whisper-yelled, "We have to be quiet, okay? Newt?"

〰️

BRENDA STOOD UP abruptly, "We're leaving. Now. Come on."

Minho, Jorge, and Thomas got to their feet. If WICKED was after Hans, they had to get to him first and get the tracking device out of his head.

"Gally," Thomas called one last time, "Do you swear everything you told us is true?"

"Every bit."

"What do we do if we want in? Do we come back here? Go somewhere else?"

Gally smiled boyishly, and underneath all the scars he seemed like his age —eighteen years old. "Come back here. Any time before nine or so in the morning, for another week. I should be around. I don't think we'll make any moves before then."

"Moves?"

"I've told you enough. You want more, you come back. I'll be here." Gally suddenly reached out and squeezed Thomas' elbow, "Time's running out. But we can do something."

Thomas nodded.

Minho waited for Thomas to pass through and sent Gally another curt nod of acknowledgement before closing the door. "We'll be back."

"Bring Frankie and Newt next time."

"Good that."