After the Death Cure ( The Maze Runner )

Chapter 41

The Berg lands, and my troops and I pile off. I see Thomas make his way towards me, his head facing downward. "I'm going to need you to lead this time. You were runner-up. Just-"

"It's ok. I got it. Just switch line ups with me."

He forces a smile. He doesn't need to, I already know he's upset.

"Alright! Four hundred feet, right smack in the middle! Line ups have changed, let's go!" I say as I swing my arm in the direction of the city. I see Melissa smile at me, and I smile back. I'm glad she likes my leading.

We head out four hundred feet.

I feel my stomach start to churn once I put more thought into it. I've never led before. I look around at the other groups which have formed beside me. Thomas is to my right, and Minho to my left. I see him glance at my group, and turn back to face the front. Must've been looking at Melissa.

I hear screaming and laughing emerging from the city. It doesn't seem to phase anyone...except me. I feel my heart thump faster and faster. It almost hurts.

I slowly grab my bow from around my body, and pull it up into position. "Prepare for battle!" I yell in a noticeably shaky voice. I hear guns being pulled out, and the sound of metal arrows sliding from their cases. I pull one out, and set it into the bow, which I lower to my side, awaiting the arrival of the army. I see the first few Cranks run out. Arms flailing.

I see the reflection of the boiling sun on the glass and knives which they hold. My stomach drops at the horrific sight. About a thousand run out. One hundred more. Another hundred. That's more than we have. I lift up my bow as they draw nearer. "Ready!" I hear the soldiers set their stance.

Closer.

"Aim!" I aim my arrow at a man in the front of the pack. He's smiling, barely any teeth. Chills run up through my body.

"Fire!" I see arrows and bullets fly towards the Cranks. Blood curdling screams flood the air, suffocating my emotions.

"Again! Ready! Aim!" I take in a deep breath, and find another man's head. "Fire!" I hear my voice crack. Oh, the headache I will have in the morning.

They're still pretty far away. I call for another fire. Another. Most of them are gone. Five hundred left, maybe. Hey, I'm doing better than Thomas. "Prepare to fight!" I put my bow away, and I suppose others do too. I bring out my gun. They're only about two hundred feet away, so I fire randomly. So do the other Gladers. Not the soldiers, though. Only about four hundred make it to us, and we fight. I punch a man in the face as I replace my gun with a knife. I stab his heart, and move to the next person. I slit two throats, and the battle is already over. I take a look around. We're all here.

"You know the procedure! Let's go!" I yell to the crowd. We march to the city as the soldiers make their way back to the Bergs.

We walk around the dead Cranks as we head towards the city. I feel a pain slice through my ankle. I cry out, and look at what cut me. A Crank has a tight grip on my leg. He pulls up to cut me again, but I hear a gun shot. His head lowers to the ground, and his hold releases. I look up at whoever shot him. Thomas. He gives me a nod. "Thanks, Thomas."

The city is pretty far away this time. It takes at least fifteen minutes to get there. How long did that battle take? I find myself asking the question out loud. "Like an hour," Minho responds, looking at his watch.

We make it to the city, and stare up at the giant barrier. There's an opening in the wall which surrounds it. "Who did this?"

"WICKED. The city was full of Cranks. They took over, so WICKED sent in troops to save the munnies," Minho says, scanning the hole.

"Why'd they destroy a hole in the barrier?"

"I told you, Cranks took over. Security and all."

I kick a small rock which used to be a part of the wall. I can see where the security cameras lie, all battered and broken.

The Gladers stand huddled behind me, Minho, and Thomas. I can hear their chattering about WICKED. I try to listen in on what they're saying. "Is WICKED good?", "They save lives through torture", "WICKED can be good, remember?" I smirk. I recall the day I said that. How angry I was with Thomas. That feels like years ago. I look over at him; he's apparently listening to the Gladers, too. He looks as if he's holding back tears. I wish we could all be ok again...