Once they were sure the bergs had disappeared, the Gladers kept walking down the main street. It was harder than expected because of the ruins, and they had to climb several broken buildings when the remains blocked the street. While Elle knew that these obstacles made it a more strenuous journey for them, she was grateful for the shade they provided. The sun scorched their skin and burned even in the shade, and she couldn't imagine what it would be like to walk the Scorch without any cover.
"Everyone good?" Thomas, who led the group, asked as they climbed a particularly steep ruin.
Trying not to show how difficult walking was for him, Winston replied, "Yeah." Everyone was breathing heavily, not used to the stamina climbing uphill required. Winston looked like he was on the verge of fainting. He coughed, and his skin was looking greyer than usual.
"Earlier when you were patching Winston up, what did the wound look like?" Elle asked Teresa when they had a private moment. She often found that Teresa had honest eyes, so when her blue irises widened a fraction before she turned her head to avoid eye contact, Elle knew something was wrong. "How bad is it? Be honest."
"It was already infected and I can see that he bled through the bandage within minutes," Teresa confessed quietly.
"Shit," Elle cursed. She didn't want the others to overhear and panic, especially Winston. Feeling like your body was off was one thing, but hearing someone tell you something was wrong made things real and could worsen his symptoms. "You don't think--" Elle cut herself off.
The thought was too terrifying to voice. "I don't want it to be true but..." Teresa trailed off.
Winston exhibited clear signs of infection, not just a bacterial infection from an untreated wound. If Elle and Teresa didn't know better, they'd think he had the Flare. Keeping an eye on Winston, Elle lingered at the back of the group in case his health worsened in any way. Teresa remained in the middle of the group, often settling beside Frypan or Aris as Thomas and Minho walked at the front. Regardless of the possibility of having the Flare, Winston kept up with the group until they reached the city's edge. The only thing between them and the view of their future was a large sand dune, which they scaled together.
"A little further, guys," Thomas encouraged everyone, nearly breaching the dune crest.
Now that they were out of the cover of the city, Elle felt how hot the sun was. There were barely any clouds in the sky, and there was no shade to give them a break from the sun. She was grateful for her zip-up hoodie, but the black material was attracting too much heat, and Elle paused to take it off before reaching the peak of the sand dune. Ignoring the sting of the skin on her arms burning in the sun, Elle wrapped her hoodie around her waist and followed the Gladers to the top of the dune.
When everyone reached the top, they squinted and gaped at the view ahead. There were more ruins, fewer skyscrapers, and more buildings buried beneath the sand. A destroyed suspension bridge was visible in the distance, and even further beyond that were mountains.
Thomas pointed at them. "Those mountains, that's gotta be it. That's where we're going."
Catching his breath, Newt stared at his friend with squinted eyes. "That's a long way off," he pointed out.
"Then we better get moving," Thomas replied.
Glancing at Winston beside her, Elle watched him take off his bag and struggle to breathe. "Hey, are you okay?" she asked, putting a hand on his shoulder when it looked like he was going to fall over. "Do you need more water, I have some in my--" Winson collapsed, falling forwards and sliding down the dune. "Winston!" Elle raced after him. The Gladers followed closely behind.
"Winston! Hey, Winston!" Thomas shouted, shocked.
"Winston," Minho exclaimed.
Turning Winston over, Elle saw that his lips had turned blue, and he struggled to gasp for air. "Give me some space," she requested. It felt like her body was operating on autopilot; she knew what to do and didn't give her actions any thought. After throwing off her backpack, Elle rolled Winston onto his back and straightened his body. Gently tilting his head back, she opened up his hair away and lifted his chin upwards to prevent obstruction. Once she pressed her ear against his lips and heard him breathing, she sat back up and watched his chest rise and fall unsteadily. "He's breathing for now," Elle reported to the others. She met Thomas's eyes and frowned. The implication was clear: she didn't know if Winston would continue to breathe.
"He's hurt pretty bad," Thomas observed, instantly recognising the solemn look on Elle's face.
Even though she had a lot of medical training, Teresa panicked when she saw how badly Winston's infection had escalated. "What do we do?" she asked.
Thomas got to his feet and looked into the distance, trying to figure out how they could help Winston get to the mountains.
"Winston, can you hear me?" Newt wondered. He shared a worried frown with Elle. "Do you think he can hear me?"
"I really don't know," Elle admitted. "Let's assume he can and stay positive. He's our friend, he knows we won't leave him behind."
Newt nodded in agreement. "It's okay. You'll be alright," he said kindly to his friend.
"I'm going to stay here and make sure he's breathing," Elle declared, glancing around at the Gladers and coming up with a plan. "We need to make something we can use to carry Winston. Start looking around for sticks or pipes or anything sturdy that we can attach our jackets to. We can fashion some kind of stretcher," she suggested. "How does that sound?"
"Brilliant," Newt agreed, nodding eagerly.
"Let's leave our bags here with Elle so we can carry more stuff," Minho added.
Everyone began removing their clothes and shedding any extra layers they didn't need so they could move more freely throughout the Scorch. Getting comfortable, Elle sat cross-legged beside Winston. She removed her fingers from below his chin when she saw him breathing more regularly. "Hey Winston, I'm going to make you a little pillow so your neck is more comfortable and there's less pressure on it. Does that sound okay?" Elle asked, keeping her tone positive and soft.
When Winston nodded, she unwrapped her zip-up hoodie from her waist and folded it up before putting it underneath his head. He seemed to relax after that, and Elle noticed that he was drifting in and out of sleep. The others worked hard to find and collect anything they could use to build Winston a stretcher. Teresa soon joined Elle to tie the jackets together for Winston to lie on.
"How's he doing?" Teresa wondered, kneeling beside Elle. She knotted together her zip-up hoodie and jacket from Elle's backpack.
"He's hanging in there," Elle replied, carefully eyeing Winston's chest and neck to ensure he was breathing. "I think he's been asleep for a little while."
Teresa nodded. "That's good." As she tied together their jackets, Teresa glanced over at Elle. "You said in the hospital that you thought I was resourceful and determined in the Maze." Humming, Elle confirmed that she recalled their first conversation. "I thought you should know that I think what I did is nothing compared to what you're doing now," Teresa complimented. "You and Thomas are the only reason any of us are organised and have any hope. And the way you jumped in to take care of Winston was incredible. I was just panicking the whole time. We all were."
"I panic all the time, Teresa. You don't have to worry about your reaction, it's totally normal," Elle assured her friend.
"I know." Teresa returned her gaze to the jackets she was tying together. "I just think you have an incredible mind and you're so quick to help people. It's about time you knew that," she added, smiling when Elle lifted her head to grin at her new friend.
"You're pretty great yourself, Teresa," Elle replied. The two girls shared a chuckle and accidentally woke up Winston. "Sorry," Elle whispered, smiling down at him and gently pushing his hair from his forehead. "Go back to sleep, we're okay here."
"It's nice to see you smile so much," Winston said quietly, coughing when he was done. "I'm glad you made another friend." The exertion of speaking was too much, and his eyes shut again.
"Me too, Winston," Elle said, looking fondly at Teresa. Having another girl around had a positive influence on Elle. They had connected instantly in the med-wing, and their friendship grew from there. She knew they'd be incredibly close once she knew Teresa for as long as she had known the Gladers.
When the boys returned, they helped Teresa tie their jackets and tested the stretcher to ensure it could carry Winston. Once they were done, they lifted Winston onto the stretcher together and descended the dune. Since gravity was on their side, it was easier for Minho and Frypan to drag Winston around as they climbed down the sand dune. Things were more difficult as they approached the broken suspension bridge and had to pull Winston on a flat or uphill terrain.
Lingering in the back, Elle kept a close eye on Winston with growing anxiety. At first, she thought it would be good for Winston to sleep so that he could sleep off the infection. Now, she wondered if he was sleepy because he was getting worse. Silently, Elle spiralled into a whirlwind of failure and self-doubt. She was in charge of watching Winston but didn't know if she was helping or making things worse. Being anxious, combined with being sunburned and overheated, was making Elle dizzy.
"Hang in there, Winston," Minho said, hearing Winston wheeze.
"You guys are incredible," Elle complimented Minho and Frypan. They had been dragging their friend without any break end without swapping shifts with another Glader, and their determination was heartwarming. "Let us know when you need to swap, though. Don't suffer in silence, okay?" They nodded in agreement.
As they crossed underneath the broken bridge, it became too steep to drag Winston down because he kept falling out. Instead, everyone helped lift Winston. "Thomas," Minho panted. "Grab his legs."
Thomas complied. "I got him, I got him." The boys grunted from the effort of carrying Winston and struggling not to fall over in the soft sand dunes.
An intense sandstorm only made things more difficult. Using the scarves Elle found the previous night, everyone covered their faces from the strong gusts of wind. The sand blew in every direction, making it nearly impossible to see ahead of them or keep their eyes open.
"Gotta find shelter!" Thomas shouted over the whistling wind.
But shelter never came. Instead, the group walked until they were too tired to take another step. By the time they took a break and sat, the sandstorm passed. They found a piece of broken concrete to hide underneath for shade, but it would have done nothing to keep out the earlier wind.
Teresa and Elle sat beside Winston, watching him like hawks and refusing to do anything but stare at him. Aris lounged nearby while Minho, Frypan, and Newt sat in a row. Glancing at her friends, Elle saw Minho take small sips of water before passing the bottle to Newt as Frypan poured sand out of his shoe. Winston was unconscious and shivering. Even though his airways were clear, his breathing was more shallow, and Elle didn't know how long he had left without a cure.
Wordlessly, Teresa stood and approached Thomas, who stood at the crest of the nearest sand dune and stared out at the mountains. Curious, Elle watched them converse from a distance. She was too far away to hear them, but she wondered what they were discussing.
Newt took a seat beside Elle and gently bumped shoulders. "I think you should take a break from watching Winston," he advised. "I can feel the anxiety radiating off of you."
"I'm fine," Elle waved him off. "I need to make sure Winston's okay."
"It's not your job to make sure Winston's okay, it's your job to make sure you're okay," Newt insisted. "I'll take over for a bit, just shut your eyes or have some water." Reluctantly, Elle took the bottle from Newt and sat next to Minho. "How's it looking?" Newt shouted to Thomas and Teresa.
Thomas shared an unsure look with Teresa. "It's a little further," he replied doubtfully.
Newt glanced at his friends. "That's not very convincing," he mumbled.
Taking Newt's advice, Elle rested and had some water instead of constantly checking on Winston. She knew Newt often helped in the med-jack hut back in the Glade, so she trusted him to take care of Winston and alert her if something was wrong. With nothing else to occupy her attention, Elle watched Thomas and Teresa interact. Her brows pulled together in confusion when she saw Teresa lift her dark hair over her shoulder to show Thomas something on the back of her neck. There was a twinge in her gut when Thomas reached over to push Teresa's hair and scarf away from her neck. The act was so tender and intimate that it made Elle gasp quietly.
"What does that shank think he's doing?" Minho muttered beside her, shaking his head in disapproval. He'd become overprotective of Elle since they were separated at WICKED, and he couldn't believe his eyes. If Minho didn't know better, he'd think Thomas and Teresa were flirting.
"I'm sure it's nothing," Elle defended their actions. She didn't know if she was convincing Minho or herself. "I see her rubbing her neck all the time, maybe she's just asking him to check on it." Thomas released Teresa and took a step back to stare at her.
"She's asking your boyfriend instead of you? You're her friend and the most knowledgeable person here," Minho pointed out the flaws in her logic. "Makes sense to me," he said sarcastically.
The twinge in Elle's stomach grew into a knot, and something uncomfortable settled in her chest. Perhaps this was jealousy, she thought. She'd never been confronted with it, and it felt ugly and selfish considering the circumstances. It seemed silly to sit here worrying about someone who wasn't even her boyfriend when Winston was dying less than ten feet away.
"I remember you and Elle," Teresa specified after revealing to Thomas that WICKED had returned her memories. "We grew up together. I used to go study and work with you but they separated us when we started sending people into the Mazes."
The familiarity Thomas felt when he first met Teresa was explained. He vaguely recalled seeing her when he went through the Changing in the Glade. "I remember you too," Thomas said. "I don't think Elle recovered any memories of you but I've seen you before; spoken to you before."
"I remember you loved her, even when we were kids and she barely talked to anyone," Teresa revealed. She chuckled, and Thomas couldn't tell if it was nostalgic or sad. "She was the only person you saw. Nobody else mattered." Thomas nodded, averting his eyes. He didn't know what to say to that. He didn't like talking about Elle with other people; it felt too intimate to reveal his feelings to anyone other than Elle. "Why is that?" Teresa asked, searching his eyes for answers. "How did you fall in love with her all over again in a matter of days, even though you didn't have your memories yet?"
"Why are you asking me this?" Thomas wondered. He was growing suspicious at Teresa's line of questioning. "Why do you even care?"
"I remember why we were there," Teresa said, referencing their work with WICKED. "We thought we could fix all this." She paused, wondering if Thomas would feel the same way. "I think we should go back," Teresa confessed.
Thomas stared in shock. "What?"
"Just listen to me--" Teresa began.
"What are you talking about? Go back? After everything they've done to us," Thomas interrupted her.
"No, it's not that simple--"
"Yeah, I think it is that simple."
"No." Teresa shook her head as tears collected in her eyes. "It's not what you think, we're important. Elle, specifically, is so much more important than you could ever imagine. You don't understand."
"What don't I understand?"
"Everything was fine until you and Elle--" Teresa paused as if she'd said too much.
Thomas raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What?"
Teresa shut her eyes, frustrated she had let it slip. "Nothing," she said unconvincingly.
Thomas's jaw clenched. He was starting to like Teresa less by the second and definitely didn't trust her. "Teresa, what aren't you telling us?" he demanded.
Thomas and Theresa stared at each other, neither willing to say anything. A gunshot interrupted them.