Day One

The end of the world was less permanent than she expected.

She didn't remember it happening, couldn't quite remember the earth going up in a haze of fire and smoke, but she did remember the screaming panic that came with it. The way time seemed to slow to a stop, the terror that seemed to clutch the planet in a chokehold.

Now, sitting on the torn jacket she had stolen from her father's old closet before they had fled the house, tucked away in that half-concealed alcove on the outskirts of the city, she watched the time move by around her and thought perhaps it would have been better if the end of the world was permanent after all.

People crawled on dust-filled streets, sidestepping rubble and debris and bodies much like her own, squatting in the shade. Sand blew in from every crevice, clinging to hair and clothes. Exhaustion and fear was palpable in the faces of those that passed where she was crouched.

"Here you go, red." His voice shook her out of it, his silhouette blocking out the glow of the fiery sun. She squinted up at him, lifting a small hand up to her eyes to try and make out some of his features. Other than a dishevelled head of red curls and a smattering of freckles smudged across his nose like dirt, the rest of him was nothing more than a blur. He tossed an apple down at her, and she caught it with clumsy fingers.

It had seen better days, just on the border of being inedible, but even though she couldn't see the boy's face she knew he was looking at her with pride. "You got one!" She grinned, rubbing the apple on her sleeve before sinking her teeth into it. The sour taste exploded in her mouth, and she grinned around the bite as that clenched feeling in her stomach slowly began to abate.

"Yep! Had to swipe it off a vendor. Bastard nearly caught me too."

"Where's yours?" She frowned around another bite, scanning his pockets for any bulges. There weren't any.

"Don't worry about me, red. I'll find something later." He waved her away, but the frown remained. She may have been a child, but even she could see the weight he had lost over the last year and a half since their house had been swarmed. It was obvious with the way his bones jutted out, the way the t-shirt and grey jacket hung loose on his frame.

"Here," she held out the rest of the apple to him, small face grim with determination, but he simply chuckled and ruffled her hair.

"You need it more than I do, kiddo." His smile was tight. "Eat up, you're practically skin and bone."

The press of a leg against hers was what woke her. Ada's eyes snapped open, face lifting from where it was pressed against the window. The side of her forehead ached fiercely from the sudden release of pressure, and when she probed it with her fingers she knew there was a red mark left behind.

Minho winced apologetically, withdrawing his leg from where it had knocked against hers. The seating arrangements were fine for the first hour, but as the day crept by and the sun sank low on the horizon their bodies had begun to feel the strain of being cooped up. She was relatively small, so being slotted between Newt and the window was no issue for her, but Minho's long legs were bent at an awkward angle that she knew had to be painful for him.

Ignoring the sting of her limbs, she drew her legs closer to herself to give him more room, smiling tiredly at him when he knocked his ankle against hers in thanks.

Ada rolled her neck, trying desperately to relieve the pressure that had built up, but stopped when she processed the pressure on her shoulder. Staying as still as possible, she looked to her left, unable to stop the slow smile that crept across her face.

Newt had fallen asleep a while ago, judging by how relaxed he was, his head resting on her shoulder, face turned slightly into her neck. His hair was dishevelled, dirt-smudged strands tickling her skin, and his lips were parted slightly, breaths slow and even. She knew by the way his body was folded unnaturally that he would be sore as hell when he finally woke up. For a brief moment, Ada considered moving him so that he would be more comfortable, but couldn't quite bring herself to.

"He's been asleep like that for an hour." Minho said quietly, his voice hoarse. "He wanted to stay awake after you fell asleep, but I think he's more tired than he let on."

One quick glance around the helicopter confirmed that the others were either fast asleep or staring morosely out the window, shock still painted on their features. Perhaps it was the exhaustion or the pain still clinging to her, but the shock of their escape had worn off somewhat. Now, all that remained was the desperate urge to sleep for as long as physically possible, preferably somewhere with pillows and a blanket.

"Almost there," the man with the mask said, still clutching his gun protectively to his side. Ada nodded, leaning forward to peer out the window. She winced as her shirt stuck unpleasantly to the leather, her blood still crusting the material and making it cling to her skin. Now that they were sat in silence, she was all too aware of the injuries that marred her body, each movement a violent and painful reminder.

The world was a darkened haze of sand and buildings, sticking out of the earth like graves, decrepit and monstrous in the black. She watched as they passed them, unlike anything she had seen before. Every now and again something moved on the ground, like ants writhing, weaving in and out of the shadows.

"Woah," It was Teresa's voice from a few seats down that had Ada looking towards the other side of the helicopter. She was staring out of the window, eyes wide, palm pressed against the glass. Winston leant forward beside her, exhaling in disbelief.

Ada craned her neck, careful not to disturb Newt, and caught sight of bright lights in the distance. They looked like stars, slotted against two hills, but they grew larger and larger the closer they got until a building came into view, a looming structure of grey and steel.

"What is that?" Ada asked, speaking for the first time in hours. Her voice was strained, cracked, and the sound of it was enough to rouse the boy using her as a pillow.

Newt groaned out a noise of displeasure as he lifted his head, eyes squinted and bleary. His fingers flexed, and it was a true reflection of how exhausted she was that Ada hadn't even noticed that they were loosely circling her wrist, two fingers pressed gently against her pulse point.

Her heartbeat had lulled him to sleep, and she couldn't help the flutter in her chest that came along with that realisation.

"What's going on?" His voice was gruff, raspy with tiredness as he peered out of sleepy brown eyes towards the windows. "What is that?"

Ada shifted, the movement drawing his attention to her, and a small smile graced Newt's face as his shoulders relaxed slightly. His fingers left her wrist, lowering instead to settle on her leg, just above her knee. His large fingers spread, running soothingly over the blood-drenched material, pinkie finger brushing her thigh. Ada let herself lean into the warmth.

"Your new home." It was the same guard from earlier that spoke, his eyes watching them carefully as the helicopter shuddered, slowly starting to lower. A beam of brilliant white hit them, and Ada lifted her hand to shield her eyes against the glow.

The descent was rocky, and she pressed her face against the window to watch other men, also dressed in black and carrying machine guns, scurrying around below them. They were yelling something, arms raised, and Ada's heart caught in her throat as the ground rose up to meet them.

"Stay here." The man said, peering out through the glass with a furrowed brow. "Don't leave the vehicle."

He was gone before Ada could protest, the door swinging open – the sound of the blades spinning above them, buffeting air, was almost deafening before it was muffled as the door once again slid shut.

"How is he still asleep?" Winston's voice came from the other side of the helicopter, and she knew he was talking about Thomas, still sound asleep on the ground, but she didn't turn her face away from the window.

The world beyond the glass was barely more than shadows and the odd haze of a torch reflecting onto the barrel of a gun or someone's mask, and Ada watched it with unease unfurling in her gut.

"Something's wrong," she said quietly, peering out into the black. Black figures darted back and forth, sprinting towards something just out of eyeline. "They're running."

"Running where?" Minho asked, leaning forward to squint out of the window.

"I don't know," she lifted a hand to rub at the glass, trying to clear the smears of condensation. "I don't know, it looks like-"

Gunfire and screaming split the air in two.

Ada backed away from the glass, heart in her throat, right as the man slid the door open.

His face was streaked with blood and sand, his eyes wide with panic. "Out! Now!" He grabbed her arm before she could protest, pulling her down onto the sand, and Ada barley had a moment to steady herself before she was being tugged forwards by other masked men, their gloved hands heavy on her arms.

"Run! Go!" Someone was screaming, and just like that the adrenaline was back, coursing through her veins.

The sand was soft under her feet, sinking away from her with every step, and she was vaguely aware of the others being ushered out behind her. The building was at least a hundred yards away, towering and colossal, bright lights illuminating the dunes behind her.

She cast a glance over her shoulder, eyes skimming the alarmed faces of her friends, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening.

Something was moving in the distance. Figures, black and warped.

They looked like humans, upon first sight, but they were wrong somehow. They moved far too quickly, and over the deafening roar of the helicopter blades and the screaming she could just make out the ear-splitting crack of rasping voices yelling unintelligible words.

"What the fuck?" Her voice was lost into the roar of noise.

Ungodly screeching cut through the cacophony, cracked and garbled and so so wrong it had the hairs on Ada's arms standing on end as she broke out into a sprint, allowing the soldiers to usher her forwards.

"Cranks!" Someone yelled, their gunfire popping her ears. "We got Cranks!"

They appeared on the hill, a swarm of them, limbs moving uncontrollably as they barrelled down the sand towards them. Ada flung an arm back, desperate to make contact with someone she knew, and Newt's fingers tangled with hers as his hand hovered over her lower back, urging her forward.

Cranks. The term was unfamiliar, alien, but even if she didn't know what it meant Ada knew for certain that she absolutely did not want to find out.

"What's happening?" She called out to the man beside her, hoping he had some semblance of an answer, but his eyes were fixed on the building ahead, his gun raised threateningly.

"Gotta move, kid!" He yelled, nodding his head behind him. "Not safe out here!"

Now that she was closer, and the shadows had receded with the blinding perimeter lights that blinked into existence, Ada felt her heart stop in her chest at the sight of large glass windows, high in the air, overlooking the scape of sand and destruction. There were people in there, crowded against the glass, a whole new world waiting just before her.

"Get these kids inside!"

The guard beside her pivoted, the snap of his gun accompanied by a deafening boom, and something behind her thudded to the ground. She didn't turn to look, pushing away the stubborn pain that clung to her as she forced her legs to keep moving.

"Tell him to take off! We're clear!"

Ada's fingers closed around the wooden bird in her pocket, clutching the figurine closer to her side, desperate for some semblance of familiarity as they reached the main doors, wide and gaping and so similar to the doors of the maze it had her breath catching in her throat. They closed behind them, right as Thomas stumbled through, cutting off the frantic yells and screams and sounds of death.

Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs, lungs burning something fierce as she slowed to a stop, eyes scanning the group beside her. They were all there, right where they should be, shaking and wide eyed, panting.

"Where the bloody hell are we?" It was Newt's voice that had her looking out at the room they had been shoved into. It looked like some sort of warehouse, towering rows of crates and boxes looming as far as the eye could see, men in masks rushing across gangways and bridges.

She stepped forward, bringing herself into line with Newt and Minho, unable to do anything but stare helplessly out at the unfamiliar surroundings. "I have no idea."