[ ELECTRA ]
❧
The stillness in the air made Electra's blood run cold. She contemplated running at the odd man in front of her and tackling him to the floor, or at least trying to threaten him, but something about Jorge's crazed eyes told her to stay firmly put.
"You people forget how to talk?" Jorge asked. "Or you just scared of the Cranks? Scared we'll pull you to the ground and eat your eyeballs out? Mmm, tasty. I love a good eyeball when the grub's running short. Tastes like undercooked eggs."
Minho, dauntless as ever, stepped forward, doing a perfect job of hiding his pain. "You admit that you're a Crank? That you're freaking crazy?"
Electra's ears perked when the ceiling above her cracked. She peered into the hole where Jorge had jumped down but saw nothing.
"In the Scorch, we're all crazy." Jorge outstretched his arms, beckoning the Gladers toward him. "Now, come, come, my new friends. I'd only eat your eyes if you were already dead. Of course, I might help you get that way if I needed to. Understand what I'm saying?" His tone was anything but inviting, and he looked at each of the Gladers in turn, surveying all of them with a crooked smile.
Just as Jorge's gaze settled on Electra, she heard another crack. Her eyes flashed up to the hole once more, seeing nothing in the darkness, before darting back to Jorge. The man's smile widened as her eyes rested on him, and she could barely detect his slight gesture at the ceiling, as if taunting her to go and see what was up there. She tilted her head at him. Was there something up there? Was there someone up there?
"Something wrong, girl?" Jorge asked, provoking her even further.
Electra rested her hand on her knife, which was hidden behind her back, tucked in her waistband, but she didn't bring it out. "How many of you are there?"
Jorge's gaze trained on her hand behind her back, before he raised his pointer finger at her, wiggling it back and forth. "Tsk, tsk. That's not how this is going to work." He began slowly walking towards her. "Those who are at a disadvantage have to speak first. I want to know everything about you. Where you come from, why you're here, what in God's name your purpose could be. Now."
Minho blocked Electra before Jorge could reach her, raising an arm to stop the man in his path. "We're the ones at a disadvantage? Unless the lightning storm fried my retinas, I'd say there are eleven of us and one of you. Maybe you should start talking."
The Crank let a scoff tumble out of his mouth. "Looks like the girl is more perceptive than you are. That's threatening."
"So, you feelin' scared?"
"Nah. Just makes her more appetizing." He pointed lazily to the group, before resting his gaze on Electra. "If she doesn't start cooperating then what use is she to me besides free food?"
Electra felt a boy near her from behind, as if silently warning her to stay put. Similarly, Electra reached a hand forward and rested it just above Minho's forearm, not quite touching it but conveying a warning sign.
However, Jorge's next words dissolved any warnings just as quickly as the lightning had destroyed everything in its path. "I bet the rest of you'd be so much more collaborative if I made you all watch what I do to her."
Just like that, Minho and Electra both pounced at the man. Minho got to Jorge first, sending the two tumbling to the floor. Electra, however, couldn't move forward a single step before she was restrained by her arms. Newt yanked her backwards, gripping hard onto her wrists.
On the floor, Minho was yelling a string of obscene profanities. He'd wrestled Jorge underneath him and pinned him down with his thighs. Minho landed a few punches before Jorge kicked upwards, pushing Minho off of him.
"Minho!" Thomas shouted, rushing forward. "Stop!"
Electra fought to haul herself free, but Newt pulled her in closer, squeezing as hard as he could. Jorge tackled Minho to the ground, but Minho punched straight up, right into the Crank's nose. The shock allowed Minho to roll back on top of Jorge, where another string of punches continued.
"Newt, let go of me, I swear to god." She thrashed harder in his grip, and she could feel it loosening.
"A little help here!" Newt yelled, and Electra felt another pair of arms holding her back, she recognized the arms belonged to Frypan.
She tried kicking backwards but the boys lifted her off the floor. She flailed her legs without making contact. Ropes fell from the ceiling and in unison, Cranks began streaming down from above. Some jumped all the way down, rolling as they hit the floor, while others hastily climbed down the rope.
Thomas tackled Minho, sending them flying off Jorge's body. "There's more of them up there!" Thomas screamed, squeezing Minho into a similar pin Electra was in. "You have to stop! They'll kill you! They'll kill all of us!"
The Cranks quickly gathered in a pack as they dropped down. Some were men, others were women, and some were even teenagers. There were maybe fifteen in total, and they all looked frail yet dangerous. Their skin hung off their bones, and their hair was covered in grime and mats. Their eyes looked alive yet barely human. Jorge, wiping blood from his nose, staggered to his feet before taking his position at the front of the group.
"Wait!" Thomas shouted. "Please wait!"
Jorge whispered something incomprehensible to a Crank behind him, covering his mouth with his hand. Electra imagined the Crank was ordering their death sentence. Thomas loosened his grip on a now calmer Minho but still had a protective hand on his friend's back.
"Please give me a minute," Thomas said, slowly nodding at the group of Cranks. "Won't do you people any good to... hurt us."
"Won't do us any good?" Jorge countered, spitting bloody saliva onto the ground. "It'll do me a lot of good. That, I can guarantee, hermano."
With a slight backward nod of his head, the Cranks brought out their weapons. Some wielded rusty kitchen knives, others had managed to scavenge full-blown machetes, black spikes that looked like they'd been pulled directly from railroad tracks, or even broken glass with red tinting the razor-sharp edges.
Electra tried to reach for her knife, slowly to not alert the monsters, but she was still too heavily restrained by the two boys. Newt and Frypan seemed too frightened to realize they'd both tightened their grip on her.
"Let me go," she whispered as low as she could, but the only response she got was Newt slowly shaking his head.
Stupid, stupid boys, she thought, shifting her gaze from one Crank's weapon to the next. There were too many people for her to possibly take at once, but she hated feeling so defenceless at this moment.
"Listen." Thomas continued trying to plead. "There's something about us. We're not just random shanks who showed up on your doorstep. We're valuable. Alive, not dead."
"Valuable?" Jorge raised his eyebrows. His anger from before vanished in replacement for a weird sparkle in his eyes. Perhaps curiosity.
"Me and you. Ten minutes. Alone. That's all I ask. Bring all the weapons you need."
Jorge let out a bellowing laugh. "Sorry to burst your bubble, kid, but I don't think I'll need any."
He paused, allowing himself to catch his breath. So this was it. Jorge was going to order the Cranks to attack them, or possibly even worse. Although she was severely outnumbered, Electra reckoned she'd go down fighting. She was trained, in a way. Her years battling Grievers had prepared her for at least beating a handful of hungry, scavenging Cranks, but what would happen after that? She imagined her death wouldn't be quick or painless.
Finally, however, Jorge spoke, "Ten minutes. Rest of you stay here, watch these punks. If I give the word, let the death games begin."
Electra's heart fell into her stomach. The Crank reached out his hand, beckoning Thomas to follow him deeper into the building, down a darkened hallway. Thomas took a deep breath, before striding forward into the darkness. She wanted to go with them, to make sure this wasn't some trick, but she was still trapped. A tense air following Thomas and Jorge's departure settled over the two groups, each group holding their breath as if waiting for the other to make a move first.
"Promise you won't freak out like a lunatic if we let you go," Frypan whispered, barely intelligible, in Electra's ear.
"Can't promise that," Electra hissed. "Especially not when you two idiots stopped me from trying to protect us all." Newt shushed her, but she continued. "Where's Thomas now? Oh yeah, probably getting eaten alive and you have the gall to call me a lunatic?"
"What are the kiddies talkin' bout over here?" A girl sauntered over, waving her surprisingly polished knife playfully in their faces. "Do spill. Don't be shy."
Electra glared at the girl. Her crazed smile matched her wide-eyed brown stare, while her ripped t-shirt matched her tattered brown boots. Her hair though—brown and cut short, not even reaching her shoulders—seemed clean. Well, cleaner than the rest of the Cranks if that even meant anything.
"They're trying to convince me not to attack you," Electra sneered.
"Attack who? Me?" The girl feigned offence. "So mean! Now what have I done to you? In fact, boys, how about you let her go? I think she and I can be great friends."
Newt and Frypan hesitated. The girl rolled her eyes at them. "C'mon now. Chop chop. Let her go."
Slowly, the boys loosened their grip on Electra. She kept one hand behind her back, firmly around her knife, but kept her eyes on the girl's blade down at her side.
The girl noticed where Electra's attention was. "Nuh uh, up here." She directed Electra's gaze up to her eyes with a couple of snaps of her fingers. "That's better. Friends look each other in the eye, you know."
"Are you trying to intimidate me or something? Because it's not working," Electra said.
"Aw, that's such a you thing to say!" The girl clapped her hands in satisfaction.
"Cut the bullshit. What do you want?"
"Electra, be careful," Minho said slowly. He hovered a hand over her arm—another warning sign.
"Oh, don't try to play peacekeeper now, little boy." The girl scoffed in his direction. "Your chance for reparations has already expired."
Minho opened his mouth to reply but the girl beat him to it. "Nope. Still my turn to speak. Thank you!"
She turned to Electra, her smile only widening. "Now, since I'm your best friend I think I know a thing or two about you. You're a girl in a group full of boys who thinks she's so tough just 'cause maybe she's had a couple of lucky fights with the pretty little weapon concealed behind her back. News flash: we all know about the knife in your waistband."
Electra wrapped her fingers around the handle, and the girl pouted. "You wouldn't dare use it on us though. Especially me, your best friend. So, here are your two options: one; you give me the knife nice and easy and everything is all sunshine and rainbows or two; you try to use it on me and every Crank in this building will slowly tear you apart limb by limb and use your insides in a tasty stew. Choice is yours but let me just say, we're all quite hungry so maybe pick the second option."
Minho slowly nudged Electra, glaring at her to hand over her weapon, but she hesitated. She didn't want to hand over her one possession, the one thing she'd made in the Maze and had been able to keep ever since. She risked her life to retrieve it. It was the only thing in this world that was hers.
"You're struggling to choose between your life and a piece of metal?"
She really was prioritizing a chunk of metal over her own safety, but Electra still wanted to try anything to prolong the inevitable. "You're not the Crank in charge. I don't have to listen to you. They're waiting for Jorge's signal, not yours."
"Y'know, if you don't cooperate we have weapons far worse than knives that you'll have to worry about."
"Electra, give her the knife," Newt said, but Electra didn't budge.
"Ah, well. I'll take your silence as compliance for the second option, but since we're best friends and all, I'll give you ten seconds to change your mind. Ten... nine..." she looked up, making a tick-tock motion with head tilts.
"Just give it to her," Minho said.
"Eight... seven..."
The girl was distracted. Electra could fight her off. The rest of the Cranks though... maybe the Gladers could outrun them.
"Six... five..."
But Thomas. He was too deep within the madhouse.
"Four... three..."
"Electra." Minho tried to forcefully grab the blade.
Electra pushed Minho away. "Fine! Stop counting, please."
The girl scrunched her eyebrows. "I still don't see the knife so... two..."
This time, Minho was successful in grabbing her knife. He quickly pulled it from her waistband and shoved it in the girl's hand. "Here. Take it."
She beamed at them. "Great! All sunshine and rainbows! Well, for now at least until Jorge comes back and orders us to kill you all but that's just how it goes, isn't it?"
The girl held up Electra's knife, scrunching her nose as if she was holding a dead animal that had gone foul. "Not much of a weapon is it? I've seen rail spikes more impressive than this lumpy thing."
The girl shrugged her shoulders before lazily tossing it to another Crank in the group; a tall, lanky man with chunks of his hair missing in the place of angry, blistering sores. He giggled at her knife, surveying it closely for a few moments before securing it within his waistband, preferring the shard of glass he'd already been holding as his weapon of choice. Electra stared daggers at the man, trying to memorize his face. The first opportunity she got, she would find him and get her knife back.
The girl turned back to face Electra, overdramatizing a frown. "Now, now. Don't be so angry. I'm only looking out for you. You should be thanking me."
"Thanking you?"
"If Jorge had caught you with a weapon, your death would've been far worse than it's already going to be." The girl motioned toward Minho. "Your friend here, for example, is definitely going to suffer a lot more than the rest of you. Probably will have his fingernails plucked out one my one and then boiled alive or something along those lines. Depends how creative we're feeling."
Electra tried to latch onto the girl's shirt but was tugged back, falling into another bearhug trap from Newt. Minho looked green as if realizing the possible consequences of his actions. The girl stuck out her tongue before giggling, spinning on her heels and retreating to her group.
If anyone tried to lay a hand on Minho, Electra knew she would punch them in the face. Or claw their eyes out with her nails. Or steal their weapon and use it against them. She would figure out something in order to save his life.
Jorge and Thomas returned within a few minutes. Electra tried to read their faces, to see if they were all doomed like the girl was sure they were, but neither Jorge nor Thomas revealed anything in their body language.
Thomas awkwardly stood beside Jorge as the Crank raised his voice to address everyone. "All right, everybody listen! Me and the bird-face here have come to a resolution."
Bird-face? Electra didn't have time to process the funny nickname before Jorge marched his way to the middle of the room, extending his arms out theatrically to the Gladers. He left no time for anticipation. "First, we need to get these people food. I know it seems crazy to share our hard-earned grub with a bunch of strangers, but I think we could use their help. Give 'em the pork of beans—I'm sick of that crap anyway."
Jorge found Minho in the crowd, giving him a wave. "Secondly, being the grand gentleman and saint that I am, I've decided not to kill the punk who attacked me."
Electra was sure she must've heard him wrong. They weren't going to die and they were going to get fed? Since when was Thomas this good at bargaining with people? What had he said to get Jorge on his side? A few of the Cranks groaned—those that were farther gone. Electra looked over to the girl. She was surprisingly neutral about the announcement, even shaking her head, not at Jorge's statement, but at the Cranks who'd whined in disappointment. Electra reckoned the girl must've been on the brink of insanity for how quickly she seemed to switch up.
Minho was ecstatic. A bright smile adorned his face while he placed a hand on his stomach, probably thinking of the stale canned food as a freshly made feast just for him.
"Pretty happy, are you?" Jorge asked, and Minho's smile faltered the slightest bit. "That's good to know. Means you'll take the news well."
"What news?" Minho asked. Electra's face went cold.
"After we get you all fed, we have another important matter about your... decisions that must be handled. No crime is without punishment." He opened his fist, waggling his fingers. "Hmm... You punched me with both fists, so we're gonna cut a finger off each hand."
—
A/N: HELLO!!! i don't want to even acknowledge how long it's been... so anyways.
hope everyone had a good holiday and happy new year! i originally had planned for this chapter to be way longer but i just wanted to get something out for you all. this was so chaotic to write and i'm not sure why.... also a lot of jorge's dialogue is taken from the book btw
let me know what you think!! i always really appreciate all your comments and votes, thank you guys so much for continuing to appreciate this story. hopefully this chapter is alright, but the next few should get a bit more interesting from here on out.
alright!! bye :)