WICKED told them the Trial was over -no more tests, no more lies, but Frankie had been deceived enough to know that the statement alone could never be true.
Truthfully, she wanted to die. She wanted to leave this cruel world of being experimented an...
THE WORDS FELT like a sword, stabbing through her soul, even though Newt wasn't saying it directly to her face.
"Show us where he is," Frankie ordered curtly.
"No way." The sexist guard shook his head adamantly, "You asked us to find your friend and we did. Give us our money."
"Does it look like we're with him yet?" Minho asked, evidently as scarred as she was. "No one makes a dollar until you get us all together."
The two guards didn't look happy at all, and they whispered back and forth, arguing.
"Hey!" Jorge barked in support. "If you want that money, let's go!"
"Fine," the Stan guy finally said. His partner gave him an exasperated glare. "Follow us."
They turned and headed back in the direction they'd come. Minho was right on their heels, dragging Frankie along, and then everyone else.
The guards marched ahead, sweeping their Launchers left and right at anyone who got within a dozen feet of them. At one point they passed a ravaged-looking man beating a drugged-out teenager, and Thomas stopped.
"Don't even think about it," the guard said, knowing that he had an intention to help, "Keep moving."
"But isn't it your job to—"
"Shut up and let us handle things. If we meddled in every squabble and cat fight we saw, we'd never be done. We'd probably be dead. Those two can sort out their own problems."
"Just get us to Newt," Minho said evenly.
They continued until they reached a high wall with a big archway that led to an open area full of people. A sign at the top of the arch proclaimed in bright letters that this was the Central Zone.
The guards stopped, and the not-Stan one addressed the group. "I'm only going to ask once. Are you sure you want to go in there?"
"Yes," Minho answered quickly.
"Okay, then. Your friend is at the bowling alley. As soon as we point him out, I want our money."
"Let's just get moving," Jorge growled.
They followed the guards through the arch and entered the Central Zone. Then they stopped to take it all in. Frankie had to take in a deep breath and tightened her grip on Minho's fingers, seeing how horrifying the place's state was. He squeezed back, reflecting her thoughts.
Cranks were everywhere. Some people were laughing hysterically, wildness in their eyes as they slapped each other's backs roughly. Others cried uncontrollably, sobbing all alone on the ground or walking in circles, faces in their hands. Small fights had broken out here and there.
"Remind me not to buy any real estate here," Minho quipped.
Frankie couldn't bring herself to at least twitch a smile. She was filled with anxiety, and she desperately wanted to get this over with.
"Where's the bowling alley?" he asked.
"Over this way."
As they made their way deeper into the compound, Frankie shuddered more and more. She would do anything to drag that boy out of this shabby place. She would tie him up and carry him into Jorge's Berg —she swore she would.
Most of the Cranks stopped their feverish activities and stared at the small group of newcomers as they approached and walked past. Frankie kept her gaze straight and her expression neutral, ignoring the catcalls, whistles, crude jokes or insults thrown their way as they kept moving. They passed a dilapidated convenience store, a doctor's office and a sandwich shop, but no lights shone in either one. The glasses on their doors were gone and everything inside seemed ransacked to the core.
The bowling alley, on the other hand, didn't have any doors.
"He's in there," Stan said, "Now pay up."
Minho stepped past him to the empty doorway and leaned through the opening, craning his neck to see inside. Then he turned around and looked at Thomas and Frankie.
"I can see him in the back," Minho said, his face pinched with worry. "It's dark in there, but it's definitely him."
"We want our money," the guard repeated.
Jorge appeared completely unfazed. "You'll get double if you make sure we get back to our Berg safely."
The two guards consulted, then not-Stan took a turn speaking. "Triple. And we want half of it now to make sure you're not blowing smoke out your butts."
"That's a deal, muchacho."
Jorge pulled out his card and touched it to the guard's, transferring the money.
"We'll wait right here," the guard said when they were done.
"Come on," Minho said. He went inside the building without waiting for a response. Frankie immediately followed after him.
The lanes where people had once bowled were now completely torn up. Most of the wood panels were ripped out or broken. Sleeping bags and blankets filled the spaces now, with people either napping or lying in a daze as they stared at the ceiling.
Minho pointed to the far left lane, about a hundred feet away. Not many people were over there, but Frankie spotted Newt immediately despite the poor lighting. It was the flash of his long blond hair in the firelight and the familiar shape of his slumping body. His back was facing them.
No one bothered them as they carefully made their way to Newt, picking through the maze of people dozing in blankets until they reached the far lane.
They were about ten feet away from Newt when he suddenly spoke in a loud voice that echoed off the dark walls of the bowling alley. "I told you bloody shanks to get lost!"
A/N: Searching for gifs made me fall in love with Thomas Sangster all over again ♥️♥️
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