[ MINHO ]
❧
Minho's feet ached as he marched through the vast wasteland. The day had been long and unrelenting. The Gladers decided to pair off, stuff all their food and water into one makeshift bedsheet pack, and use the other bedsheet to cover the pair. Electra walked beside him under the same sheet, lugging the pack with all of their supplies on her shoulder. They'd decided to trade off the pack every thirty minutes, and each time Minho was handed the pack it seemed to get heavier.
He couldn't stop thinking of the boys they'd already lost; the ones who hadn't made it out of the pitch-black hallway. Minho wished his tattoo had said something besides leader, anything besides leader. It was his responsibility to lead all of these people to the safe haven. It was his responsibility to bring them all to safety. It was his responsibility that Gladers had already died and that more probably would within the upcoming weeks.
He also couldn't figure out why WICKED had deemed him the leader. Sure, back in the Maze he was the Keeper of the Runners, but hadn't Thomas or Newt always been the real leaders? It would be easier for him, possibly for everyone, if he wasn't the leader. Maybe if Newt or Thomas' tattoos had said leader, then all the Gladers would have a better chance of surviving. Maybe if their tattoos had said leader, then boys wouldn't have already died.
The weight of leadership was a heavy backpack clinging to Minho's shoulders, pushing him deeper into the suffocating sand beneath his feet. Still, he trudged forward.
"The safe haven better be worth all this trouble," Electra grumbled, uncomfortably adjusting the pack.
"Worth our lives, you mean? I think that's worth the hassle," Minho said, remembering the deal Rat Man had ingrained into their heads. Go one hundred miles, directly north, to the safe haven. Make it or die. Pretty clear. "Here, let me take the pack."
Electra shook her head. "It hasn't been thirty minutes yet."
"Well, you're obviously struggling so–" Minho began but was silenced by Electra's glare. If looks could kill. He raised his hand that wasn't clutching the sheet in defeat. "Okay, sorry. Nevermind."
"What do you think of their killzone patterns?" Electra spoke quickly, changing the subject as soon as she could. The edge on her voice when mentioning killzone was deadly. The sweet and open Electra from that morning was miles away, and the one from the night before who'd kissed him seemed nothing more than a dream.
"What made you think of that?" Minho asked, trying to remember what Rat Man had said about them.
"And yet it's not really an experiment as much as it is... constructing a blueprint. Stimulating the killzone and collecting resultant patterns. Putting them all together to achieve the greatest breakthrough in science and medicine."
"Janson said they were studying our responses. Analyzing our emotions," Electra said. "I wonder what patterns they got from Thomas saving that boy's life from the metal ball."
Minho knew that she was also wondering about something else, but she didn't have the nerve to say it.
I wonder what patterns they got from us kissing last night.
Minho frowned. "Well, hopefully, whatever they got was good enough because there's no way in hell I'm gonna willingly be bullied by steel balls again."
"I don't think we'd have a choice." Electra's tone was bitter; her anger was palpable. For some, fear was synonymous with cowardice but for Electra, fear was synonymous with rage. "WICKED continues to outsmart us, and now we're deliberately heading into a city filled with monsters."
"You lived alongside monsters for three years," Minho pointed out. "Whatever is in that city, we'll be able to handle it."
Electra looked unconvinced. Minho wished he could read her mind at that moment, but his best friend had her eyes trained on the looming city, and disgust showed plainly on her face.
"Next time I see Janson or anyone from WICKED," Electra said firmly, grasping tightly onto her knife. "I'm going to slit their throats."
✰✰✰
The journey ruthlessly continued. The sun plunged below the horizon, and the sky turned an inordinate fusion of pinks and purples before fading into a cool blue. Pair by pair, the Gladers were able to remove their sheets. The buildings threatened them as they edged closer. Faint light seeped and flickered from the windows of the distant city; evidence of life. It made Minho's heart drop into his stomach.
Wherever they were headed, something was waiting for them. Cranks, probably. Minho remembered the ones who'd tried to claw into the dorm window and shuddered at the memory.
Just as the landscape finally began to cool down, they heard screaming. It was a girl's scream, and a couple of the Gladers instinctively turned to Electra to see if it was her. The shrieking was distant, however, so Minho squinted to try to see any glimpse of a girl. He couldn't.
It was an earsplitting scream. One that clawed at Minho's eardrums and pounded right behind his forehead. The guttural sounds only grew more desperate as the moments passed, and the shrieking turned into broken howls of pain. It reminded Minho of how people would scream during the Changing, and a chill ran down his spine.
"You know what that reminds me of?" he asked.
"Ben. Alby. Me, I guess? Screaming after the Griever sting?" Thomas said, scanning the horizon for any trace of the girl.
"You got it."
Electra stiffened at the mention of Grievers, but Frypan was the one to speak, "No, no, no. Don't tell me we're gonna have those suckers out here, too. I can't take it!"
"Doubt it," Newt said from off to the side, surprisingly calm. "Remember how moist and gooey their skin was? They'd turn into a big dust ball if they rolled around in this stuff."
"Well, if WICKED can create Grievers, they can create plenty of other freaks of nature that might be worse. Rat Man did say things were about to get tough," Thomas said.
"What a cheerful pep talk. Thanks, Thomas," Frypan groaned.
"Just saying it how it is."
"I know. And how it is sucks big time."
"What now?" Thomas asked, and in unison, all of the Gladers turned to look at Minho.
Minho cleared his throat. "I think we should take a break. Fill our tummies and drink up. Then we should book it for as long as we can stand it while the sun is still down. Maybe get a couple of hours' sleep before dawn?"
"And the psycho screaming lady out there?" Frypan asked.
"Sounds like she's plenty busy with her own troubles."
None of the Gladers argued against him. Most were happy to finally get off their feet, while others hesitantly sat down as if worried the screaming woman would magically pop up behind them.
Electra searched through their pack and handed Minho some dried meat. She split an apple in half with her hands before giving him one half. They took turns taking small sips from the water bag. The Gladers ate while speculating about everything under the sun, with the screaming a consistent background buzz in their heads.
Aris kept mentioning how he wished the girl would simply shut up. The sixth time Aris repeated himself, Minho fought the urge to tell the boy the same thing.
They began speculating about killzone patterns just as Electra had done earlier. Nobody had any answers, of course, but everyone was just trying to make sense of it all. They also conversed about the supposed safe haven, Cranks, and what could possibly be in store for them in the city up ahead. One Glader suggested going around the city entirely, but Minho pointed out it would take too much time and they would miss their deadline.
When the conversation drifted to variables, Minho hitched his breath. He remembered Electra's tattoo.
Property of WICKED. Group A, Subject A*. The Variable.
He wondered if any of the other Gladers knew of her tattoo name.
"Well, there's no Grievers out here. I wonder what other monsters WICKED has designed specifically for us," Stan said.
"I don't know about monsters, but those metal balls were the worst," Winston said bitterly. Minho couldn't stand to look at the gruesome wounds on the top of the boy's head; a reminder of Minho's inadequacy in leadership.
"The bloody Cranks should be monster enough," Newt said, gesturing towards the city. "Looks like there's plenty of them in there."
"Cranks should be the least of our concerns. I mean they were human once, weren't they?" Thomas said, leaning forward onto his palms. "I think whatever WICKED has created as variables is our real concern, judging by what Rat Man told us."
Frypan turned to Electra, and his tone was accusatory. "Isn't that what you are? The Variable, yeah?"
Apparently, Minho hadn't been the only one who had seen her tattoo.
Electra stared daggers at Frypan. Minho didn't think she would admit anything, but she said, "That's what my tattoo says."
Minho noticed how Frypan's gaze lingered on the deep scar on the side of Electra's head. Minho knew it had been caused by a beetle blade self-destruction, but if he hadn't known he probably would've assumed it was from a Griever battle. Is that what Frypan was thinking?
Electra usually left her hair down to conceal the scar, but now her hair was tied up to reveal it. Had that been purposeful?
"So what's your role in all this, then?" Frypan asked.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "What do you think it is?"
"What role did Grievers have? Or those molten steel balls? They were there to try to kill us."
"Oh come on," Minho said, rolling his eyes. "That's about the dumbest shuck thing I ever heard. Electra isn't planning to kill any of us."
Frypan seemed gruntled with Minho's defence of Electra – the Glader had always trusted Minho – but the other Gladers weren't satisfied.
"Well, then explain her tattoo," Jack said firmly, although he avoided eye contact with Electra. "Because Rat Man said each variable has been meticulously thought out, so her nickname shouldn't be any different."
Minho noticed Thomas shrinking in his seat as if regretting bringing up the word variable.
"Janson is full of shit," Electra snapped.
"And so are you!" another Glader piped up, Minho tracked the voice to find Tim speaking. "I mean, seriously. You think we're all stupid or something?"
"What are you implying?"
"Where were you for three years in the Maze?" the boy asked, but he wasn't looking for an answer since he continued. "It must've been a pretty sweet killzone pattern for WICKED when you showed up, literally fighting a Griever before our eyes."
"It must've been," Electra simply said, and Minho sitting beside her could feel her shaking with rage. He was tired of the Gladers assuming the worst in her, but he understood why they did. They hadn't seen her out there like he had.
"So you admit it, then?" Jack joined back into the conversation.
Electra frowned at him. "Admit what?"
"You know more than you're telling us," Jack said. "Just tell us. Because two boys just died."
"You're not making any sense," Minho said. "She's in the same boat as us. She knows just as much as you know."
Jack scoffed, "Yeah? Her tattoo suggests otherwise."
"We don't know anything about the tattoos yet," Thomas said, trying to make peace. "So, until we know let's not assume anything."
The Gladers weren't convinced by Electra, Thomas, or Minho's words, and an awkward silence settled over the group. Minho wanted to say more to defend her, but he wasn't sure what to say. Some of the Gladers muttered and whispered to each other, occasionally taking turns peeking over at Electra, but none of them openly challenged her. Eventually, Aris was the first to speak.
"You are a bit scary," Aris mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.
Electra's eyes widened as she turned to face Aris. The fury vanished and was replaced with hurt, only momentarily until Electra was able to cover the pain with anger once more.
"I'm not a damn Griever you idiots," Electra seethed, gripping her knife so hard her knuckles turned white. "So slim it before I give you all a real reason to be afraid of me."
"Everyone just back off," Thomas added. "She's one of us."
Minho was certain it was Electra's aggression rather than Thomas' support that shut the Gladers up, but regardless the conversation forcefully switched to speaking of the screaming lady once more.
After their break, the Gladers continued their trek. The girl's screaming did not let up and to Minho it started to seem as natural as the wind.
The sun disappeared completely from the sky, and they were met with a darker-than-dark night. A chill ran down Minho's spine as they ran along in the brisk night. The boiling heat from just hours ago seemed unbelievable compared to the bitter cold of the night.
Electra hadn't spoken much since her argument with the Gladers. Minho could tell she was still running on fumes. He wasn't sure what to do to make her feel better, so he decided to wait it out like he always had. Eventually, she would calm down and he would talk to her about it, but right now wasn't the right time.
The lights in the windows of the buildings were flickering, meaning they probably came from fires rather than electricity. Minho doubted a city that looked so broken would've had electricity anyways. Still, people lived in the city. Well, Minho hoped they were people.
Along with the flickering of fires, as they neared the city Minho noticed it was bigger than he'd anticipated. The buildings stretched out on each side and were arranged in an organized cluster. Now he knew for sure there was no other choice than to go directly through it.
Minho slowed to a stop. "Potty break," he said, hands on his hips and he caught his breath. "Bury your klunk and don't do it too close. We'll rest for fifteen, then we'll just walk awhile. I know you shanks can't keep up with us Runners."
The Gladers split to use the bathroom, and Minho had just finished up when he heard Thomas yelling.
"Hey!" Thomas pointed toward what had caught his eye. Minho followed his gesture to find a house a couple of miles away. "Looks like a little building up there, just a few minutes away, to the right some. You guys see it?"
Now that he really looked at it, Minho decided it wasn't a house at all, it more so resembled a shack or shed. Only a few feet wide, it barely stood at all. The roof dipped in on itself in the middle, the wood was cracked, the only window he could see was completely shattered, and shingles fell as if they were made of paper. Minho wouldn't be surprised if the entire building caved in on itself.
"We're about to enter a city," Electra said from beside Thomas. "Of course there are buildings."
Minho walked up to stand on the other side of Thomas. "This one seems off though, I don't know... wonder what it is."
Before anyone could offer an explanation, the screaming stopped. Then, Minho squinted to see a girl appear in the doorway, her black, long hair flowing behind her like a spider's legs. Her face was shadowed, and they were too far away, so Minho couldn't see who it was, not that he knew many girls to begin with. But Thomas took the smallest of steps forward, his eyes never leaving her frame.
"You think that's Teresa?" Newt asked, joining the group in gawking at her.
"No clue," Thomas said, but his face revealed that he definitely thought it was her.
"You think she was the one screaming?" Frypan asked. "It stopped right when she walked out."
"Better bet is she was the one torturing somebody. Probably killed her and put her out of her misery when she saw us coming." Minho grunted, before clapping his hands together once. "Okay, then, who wants to go meet this nice young lady?"
"I'll do it," Thomas said too quickly and too loudly, already motioning toward the girl.
Electra reached out and grabbed his arm. "Don't be stupid. We don't know who this could be."
Thomas didn't pull out of Electra's grasp, but he didn't turn to meet her eye.
"I was just kidding, shuck-face," Minho said. "Let's all go over there. She could have an army of psycho girl ninjas hiding in her shack of hers."
Newt blew air through his nose. "Psycho girl ninjas?"
"Yeah, let's go." Minho started walking forward.
Now Thomas pulled himself from Electra's grip. "No!" he yelled, then continued in a calmer voice. "No. You guys stay here. I'll go talk to her. Maybe it's a trap or something. We'd be idiots to all go over there and fall right into it."
"And you're not an idiot for going by yourself?" Minho asked.
"Well, we can't just walk on by without checking it out. I'll go. If something happens or gets suspicious, I'll call for help."
Minho didn't want Thomas going by himself but also knew the boy wouldn't let anyone come with him. "All right. Go. Our brave little shank." Then, Minho whacked Thomas on the back, pushing him forward.
"This is bloody stupid," Newt said, taking a step forward. "I'll go with him."
"No!" Thomas snapped. "Just... let me do this. Something tells me we need to be careful. If I cry like a baby, come save me." Thomas took off before anyone could stop him.
"What an idiot," Electra groaned, shaking her head.
Newt simply watched Thomas go, only unfreezing from his spot when the girl ushered Thomas into her shack and the door closed behind him.
"Do you think that really was Teresa?" Minho asked, breaking the silence.
"I'd rather it be her than a psycho," Electra said, although her tone wasn't convincing.
"Why did he have to be so bloody stubborn?" Newt asked, sighing. Minho couldn't read the emotion on his face.
"Relax, I'm sure he'll be fine," Minho said.
"If he's not then it was his own fault," Electra added, and Newt cringed at her tone. "We tried to go with him but no, Mr. Hero had to do it on his own."
"You never offered to go with him." Newt corrected, pointing a finger at Electra.
"Yeah, well, can you blame me? I'd rather not be an idiot and go greet some random girl who was screaming for the past few hours. Maybe she's a Crank for all we know and she's eating him alive as we speak."
"What's wrong with you?" Newt looked at Electra as if she were the Crank eating somebody alive.
Electra shrugged. "Just being realistic here."
"That's not being realistic, that's being needlessly gruesome."
"Whatever. It's still a possibility."
"And you want that to happen, don't you?"
Electra turned to Newt, furrowing her eyebrows. "I never said that."
"Didn't have to. I can read it on your buggin' face."
"And what would I have to gain from him dying?" Electra scoffed. "Seriously, Newt. Don't be an idiot."
Newt was about to retort but instead sucked in a deep breath. A few moments later, he finally spoke, "You're still a Variable at the end of the day. I haven't forgotten about that."
Electra prepared a rebuttal, but at the mention of the word variable Minho jumped into the conversation. He put himself in between Electra and Newt, holding his hands up in peace.
"Guys, you're both being idiots right now. Let's stop this shucking fighting."
"No," Electra said firmly, pushing Minho aside and sticking a finger in Newt's face. "So what if my tattoo says I'm a Variable? Yours says you're glue, so WICKED didn't mean it literally–"
"Electra, please stop." Minho put himself in the way once more. Electra looked up at him, then tried to cast a glare at Newt, before groaning and turning toward the city, crossing her arms.
Then, Minho saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned toward the shack. The door whizzed open, and Thomas bolted from the front door. Without joining the Gladers, he began sprinting toward the city. Minho shared a quick glance with Electra before she raced off after him. Minho called to the Gladers to follow him and the group ran after Thomas.
Electra picked up speed, not waiting for the Gladers and simply trying to catch up with Thomas. Minho surged forward as well. Whatever Thomas had seen, it must've been awful.
—
A/N: well lol the gladers still really don't like electra. i mean, are we surprised tho? she's not the most friendly person
also!! these last few chapters have been pretty close to the book but soon it'll actually be more original stuff!! if you've read the book you know what's coming lol and i'm excited to explore that side of the story that wasn't seen in the book!! :)
anyways ttyl lol