A/N: Don't forget, I link a song in every chapter for you to get a little more out of each one, and most of them are on my 'Ace' spotify playlist <3
Also I've replaced my abandoned Glee Instagram account with @/thatmazefayz in case you're interested. It'll be mainly Maze Runner and Gone series related, because apparently I love hanging out in relatively dead fandoms XD
Trace woke up as the sun rose the next morning, she tried to groan, and the sound that came out made her jump a foot in the air. She sat up and looked around, expecting to see an old, frail man sitting behind her. Nope, no old man. That would have to mean she'd made that sound herself. Maybe she'd become an old man overnight. She looked at the back of her hands and flipped them over to inspect her palms. No, she was no more wrinkly than usual.
Dehydration. It was dehydration. That's why her voice was croakier than Gally eating sandpaper. She hadn't had a drink of water in a long time, and she'd run through the desert and caused a massive explosion and fire since that time. She should probably have a drink.
She hadn't bothered to remove her backpack at any point during, or after, the fight. In fact, she hadn't touched it since she'd grabbed the torch from it to set off the fire. Praying silently to herself, Trace unzipped it, feeling desperately for the water bottle at the bottom of the bag.
Got it. She pulled it out and found that it was still half empty. Or half-full. Yes, she decided, it was half-full. She was feeling like an optimist today.
She limited herself to five quick sips. Her body craved more, but the heat of the day hadn't even begun to set in yet, and she knew she'd need to hydrate herself as she walked.
The bottle was half-full, and today was going to be a good day, so Trace pushed herself up, ignoring the ache that resounded all over her body, particularly in her shoulder. Trace took a step forward and inhaled sharply, glaring down at the comically large bruise on her leg. It had swelled up overnight, and was now a deep purple, green and yellow at the edges. Real artsy. In fact, Trace wondered if she could put it in a museum.
No, she decided. She'd better keep it attached to the rest of her body. Use it for walking and stuff. It was actually pretty useful.
She took another step and grimaced. This was going to be a long walk. Or a long limp.
"No pain, no gain," she muttered. And when the gain was seeing her Glader friends again, she could definitely put up with some pain.
She pushed forward, getting into a steady rhythm. She probably looked an absolute mess right now; her hair was disheveled; she was constantly squinting against the sun; her clothes were torn and bloody and she had a really impressive limp to top it all off. But, despite how she may appear, Trace was proud. From the moment she'd woken up in that box, which felt like years ago, she'd felt completely overwhelmed by everything. None of what she'd faced had made any sense, but she'd faced it anyway. She'd spent so much of that time in the maze worrying about fitting in, but out here in the Scorch she'd learnt to fend for herself. She'd learnt to fight on her own, to survive.
Rose would be proud, she thought, and her heart clenched in response. Part of her still didn't believe she'd lost Rose. Somehow that was the hardest part of all this to believe; a girl that strong, that brave, and that fearless shouldn't be dead while Trace was alive.
A lone tear escaped and ran down Trace's cheek. A ridiculous thought occurred to her: she'd saved Thomas' Chuck but doomed her own Rose. How jacked up was that?
The mountains got closer with each weary step, and at approximately midday, Trace had closed about half the distance she'd started with. She could make it there by evening, provided no more gang members arrived, or Cranks didn't crawl out of the earth, or sun flares didn't decide to return for The Kill Order Part Two. She took a few more sips of water.
Providing none of that happened, she could make it. Actually make it. She could actually reach the Safe Haven today.
She tried not to squeal with excitement, then remembered that nobody could hear her, and did it anyway. She couldn't wait to see the people she'd been thinking about ever since she'd been dragged away from them that fateful night before this all began. Before she'd been shoved into a room with Terriblesa, drugged, and taken to another room full of girls.
She hoped they were okay. Group B was pretty cool, and she'd met some good friends there, even if she had only known them a few days, and complained about being hungry for about 87% of the time she'd known them. She hoped most of them had survived, but she had no way of knowing who did and who didn't- other than Harriet and Sonya, of course- just from her knowledge of the books. She supposed she'd have to wait and see.
She didn't know how she'd handle the news if more of her friends had died.
Her mind flickered back to Chuck. If the others had let him die, she'd be far less than happy. Trace would be furious if Chuck had died while she was away. What would the point have been in saving him if the others went and screwed it up for her?
Though, she knew they wouldn't have. The way Chuck had died in the book and movie was so unexpected. It was a split-second decision. Out in the Scorch, there was more time. Thomas could save him if he needed to, and Thomas would save him if he needed to. Trace trusted Thomas more than she trusted herself sometimes.
By mid-afternoon, Trace had actually covered a lot of distance. The mountains were close now, and she could make out some of the crevices and paths that ran around the side of them. They were actually very beautiful, and if it were a different world, she would have taken a picture, posted it on some social media website with the quote '#blessed', probably followed by '#travel' and '#adventure'. She seriously considered this for a second before deciding she'd caption the image with 'Scorch smiles'. It was perfect.
The whole notion of it brought her mood up again. It was time for another song. An upbeat one, filled with enthusiastic clapping of hands and clicking of fingers. Inspired by gospel.
'Walking for so long
It's time for a new song
Trudging through the dirt
I'm beaten up and hurt
So, although I've walked for miles,
Enduring the Scorch Trials
Without a halt or pause
It's all been for one cause
Something to look forward to
Inspiring me to push through
The thing that makes me smile
-that which makes it all worthwhile
Is the chance to see my friends
Before the story ends'
On the last line, Trace looked up towards the mountains and did a double-take. She would've laughed at herself for it if she hadn't been so distracted by what she'd seen...and still saw.
Movement.
A figure. Then two. Followed by four more. They just kept coming, appearing through what appeared to be a track on the side of one of the mountains, quite near the base. People.
She was only just close enough to distinguish them. Some were boys. Some were girls. Some short, some tall.
Trace did not want to get her hopes up, but everything about this was screaming 'get your hopes up, now!'. Her instincts told her she knew these people. Very well.
Then one of them stopped. A girl. She stopped and nudged the girl next to her. Then she pointed directly at Trace, who was still a couple of miles away from the base of the mountain.
A boy stopped next and nudged a taller boy next to him. The taller boy stopped in his tracks. Trace swore she could see tension leave his shoulders even with the considerable distance between them. Then the boy started running, navigating his way down the mountain. The first boy who nudged him caught up and put a hand on his shoulder, slowing him down. They walked together, at a quicker pace than before.
And, as they got closer, Trace realised something that would send her hobbling towards the mountains at the fastest speed she could manage.
The taller boy had a limp.
It was him.
It was Newt. Newt and Minho.
She'd finally found Group A and B.