It was the way the ground rumbled that had Clara running over to the med tent door.

It was the way the first gunshot sounded that had her ducking down. 

Clara turned behind her to look at her small group of young patients. Most of them had straightened up in their beds, the thick blankets sliding down to their waists. They were staring at her, eyes wide with panic.

Clara held her finger to her mouth. "Don't make any noise, stay here. I'm going to see what's going on."

Clara slipped out of the folds of the tent, keeping herself low. Her own eyes widened. Somehow, out of the surrounding snowy plains, in the dim evening light, WICKED had managed to sneak up on them. 

Soldiers were surrounding the small camp, guns aimed at the crowd of people. In the distance, Clara saw a berg approaching, a massive spotlight aimed at them. It crawled over the ground, slowly illuminating the Right Arm. 

Her heart began to sink. All this effort and WICKED had still found them. Just before they could leave for the safe haven. 

She scanned the area, beginning to run. Where were Tris and Leo? Ezra and Rosie? Simon? Minho? The rest of group A? She couldn't let them be captured. She couldn't let them be taken for experimentation. Not when they were so close to finally being free of WICKED and everything that came with them.

Shouts rang out, reverberating off the tents and stony peaks. The kids in the tent were sitting ducks-- hell, all of them were sitting ducks. They hadn't been ready, hadn't known they were coming. For a brief moment, Clara was beginning to feel hope.

Clara collided with Minho as soldiers began to tighten around them, crowding them together. Across the tightening group, Clara could see Tris, Leo, and Ezra crowded together. Tris had her machete braced, her hair tied back, and her eyes narrowed.

Clara made brief eye contact with Tris. The girl nodded once. They would go down fighting then. 

Stepping closer to Minho, Clara drew the small shotgun she had been given, cocking it once and holding it pointed at the ground. She wouldn't fire unless she was targeted first.

"How did they find us so quickly?" Clara asked, glancing up at Minho. She could see the panic spreading across his face, his eyes widening as he held the old-fashioned rifle up high, pointing outward. 

Minho shook his head. 

There was no way they could've known, Clara reasoned. None of them had trackers, and they hadn't been followed, and still...

The berg came to a landing on the wide open field, the snow crunching under it as the ramp lowered, and a woman, dressed in white, stepped out. She descended, scanning the area with an unsettling sense of familiarity and calmness. 

Clara swallowed. There was a soldier close to her, holding a sharp knife in one hand and a blaster in the other. All of them were wearing thick face coverings and hoods-- to hide their faces or hide the cold, Clara wasn't sure. 

The woman in white came to a stop a little outside their closed ring. She waved a hand and they parted enough to let her approach. 

Clara pressed closer to Minho, her arm brushing against his. She couldn't feel the heat of his arm, but she could feel the fabric of his jacket underneath her new pair of blue gloves. 

Vince stepped forward, pointing his gun straight at the woman in white. "You aren't welcome here."

The woman in white scanned the group, a demure smile on her face. She briefly met Clara's eyes and Clara shrunk down on herself as if the woman was scanning her soul. 

"You have something that belongs to WICKED," She spoke, the smile never leaving her face. "We are going to take them back."

"Like hell you are," Thomas shouted. He was shoving his way through the group, to face the woman. "How did you find us?"

There was another pause as the woman in white scanned the crowd. One of her soldiers nudged Clara in the side with his gun's nozzle. Clara took another step closer to Minho, her back brushing against someone behind her. 

Just over the shoulder of the soldier, she could see the med tent. The poor kids in there were defenceless. Most of them were too sick to move without assistance. They were sitting ducks, and would no doubt be taken by WICKED for experimentation if she let them get there.

Clara twisted again, watching the woman in white gesture to someone in the crowd. Please don't let it be someone from her group. She couldn't take the betrayal, not after what she had left and what she had done, not after she had fought to keep everyone alive.

To her horror and her relief, Teresa of group A stepped forward, weaving through the group like a salmon moving upstream. A deadly hush overtook the group, all of them watching as Teresa moved to stand next to the woman in white.

It had been her all along. Maybe Teresa had been giving them updates all along as to where they had been and what they had been doing. 

Everyone stared at Teresa as she stood beside the woman in white. The soldiers shifted subtly to protect both women. 

The woman scanned the crowd, her hazel eyes finally settling on Clara. 

Clara took a step back. 

"Clara, don't you want to opportunity to help treat the flare? You can bring your group with you. WICKED just wants to stop the virus. Once we have a cure, we can stop the disease and everyone will be safe," The woman took a step towards Clara. "Don't you want to be a part of that world?"

That was the problem.

Clara did want to be a part of that world.

She wanted a world where the flare never existed. Where she could be free to treat people without worry of being killed. Where cranks and WICKED and greedy people who weren't immune tried to chase them and monetize them and treat them like lab rats. 

Clara could sense several pairs of eyes on her, and slowly, she shook her head. "I do want to be a part of that world, but not with you."

The woman in white let out a disappointed sigh and Clara clenched her fingers around her gun. What was she going to do?

"I was hoping you were smarter than that," She spoke. "Don't you know that only half your group is immune? Of every pair that was sent up in the box, only one was immune. We wanted to see how you would react if the person who was your closest companion died. We thought it might help produce more enzymes. What if it is your box partner Clara? Are you going to be responsible for their death?"

Clara hesitated. She could handle it if she wasn't immune. She could take it, find any way to keep herself from dying-- or separate herself from the group before anything did happen. But Tris? The person who continued to keep her going despite everything they had faced. Clara wasn't sure she could handle the heartbreak.

Slowly, Clara found Tris' eyes through the crowd. Her sister blinked once, and mouthed "We are going to make it out together,"

WICKED could go fuck themselves.

"No," Clara responded. "Find someone else to do your dirty work."

The woman in white shook her head and waved her hand. "Take them,"

Clara instantly began to run towards the med tent as the soldiers began to capture the Gladers and the Right Arm. Her boots dug into the dusty hard ground, her hands clenching inside her blue mittens. She had to get the kids out, had to make sure they were safe. WICKED couldn't take them. Nobody else was going into the maze.

A hand grabbed the back of her jacket and flung her backwards. Clara slammed into the ground, her back protesting at the sudden impact, but thankfully, she had missed colliding her head on the ground. 

A gun was pushed into her face and Clara flinched, rolling out of the way. A blast ricocheted off the ground, sending dirt flying. The bang reverberated, making her ears ring. They were going to kill them all.

The soldier who had followed her tossed his gun to the side and grabbed at her face, pulling her up. 

Clara screamed as pain shot through her left eye, which the soldier had grabbed. There was something sharp in his hand, and it was enough for all input to vanish. Nothing but an empty void in her left eye.

Someone yanked the soldier off, and Clara pressed a palm to her eye, feeling blood gush onto her mitts-- a biohazard, she had to clean the wound and the glove later, she thought numbly. 

She spun just in time to see Minho fighting with the soldier, tugging him back. All around them, shots were ringing out-- Clara could see Simon lying splayed on the ground, a gunshot through his skull. Another dead Glader. Another one dead. Another person she couldn't save. 

The soldier slammed his elbow on the top of Minho's head and he crumpled to the ground. In the distance, Clara could hear the Berg engine beginning to rumble. She twisted in time to see an unconscious Ezra being pulled on board. Another Glader down.

The soldier turned back to Clara and she flinched, ready for him to come again.

His eyes narrowed, but he turned back to Minho. 

Clara stood there, numb as blood dripped down her face and jacket, watching uselessly as Minho was dragged away towards the Berg. She wanted to help. She wanted to save him. Wanted to help them, as he had when he had given her the toque and mitts. The cup of steaming tea this morning. Everything he had done. 

And still, she stood there, her heart pounding, her mind racing, and her body still.

Paralyzing fear as the world raged around her. 

Somebody slammed into her and Clara stumbled forward a few steps, her hand never leaving her blind bleeding eye. Was it another soldier?

"Clara? What the fuck are you doing?" Tris screamed in her ear, shoving her along. "Run, get the fuck out of here."

Clara flinched, turning to look at her boxmate. She was bleeding down the side of her head. That would need cleaning and bandaged later. Clara reached up her free hand gingerly to touch it.

Tris swatted her hand down, and grabbed both sides of Clara's face, pulling her to face her. Pain flashed through Clara's eye again. 

"Clara," Tris lowered her voice as much as she could with the roar of bullets and the Berg engine and the screams around her. "I know you are panicking. You need to go. You need to get the kids in the med tent and get out of here. WICKED won't kill us, not while they need us, but the Right Arm needs you and your skills, or they will all die. We are going to get out of here together eventually, it just might not be today."

Clara pressed her lips together to keep from whimpering. Tris was right-- defenseless injured sick people were relying on her right now, and she was frozen.

A soldier grabbed the back of Tris' jacket, tugging her away. 

"Run!" Tris shouted. She kicked at the soldier holding her, but they held fast.

Clara took a step towards Tris. Tris was one of her Gladers. She couldn't let her be taken. And still, there were a group of kids in her tent that were defenceless.

"Run!"

Clara clenched her jaw, staring at Tris once more, memorizing the tan lines on her face, the way the freckles scattered her skin. The face of her sister and her friend and her box mate-- no matter which one of them was immune. 

She turned and ran. 

~~~

Hello lovelies!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please feel free to vote and comment, I love hearing from you all!

Until next time,

Indigo