The three of them walk in silence through the dimly lit, claustrophobic tunnels, their flashlights bouncing off the damp, rotten walls. The smell of decay hangs thick in the air, making each breath feel heavy, the scent seeping into their bones like a cold grip.

"Why are you helping us?" Katherine's voice cuts through the oppressive silence, sharp and questioning as she swivels her flashlight around the narrow path ahead of them.

Brenda doesn't slow her pace, her footsteps echoing off the walls. "Trust me, it's not my idea. Jorge seems to think you guys are the ticket to some 'safe haven.'" She glances over her shoulder, her expression guarded. "A place where the sun doesn't burn you, where the Flare is nothing but a distant memory. Supposedly, the Right Arm's been taking immune kids there for years."

"The what?" Thomas frowns, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Brenda sighs, continuing to walk, the distant flicker of her flashlight casting long, wavering shadows across the walls. "You know, paradise," she says, her voice distant. "A place safe from the sun, free of infection. At least that's what Jorge says. And he wouldn't be risking his life if it wasn't something worth chasing."

Katherine listens, her thoughts dark. The thought of a safe place-a real one-tugs at her heart, but it's quickly tempered by the faces of the others. Newt. Minho. Frypan. Teresa. Aris. Chris. Where were they? Had they already escaped? Or had WCKD finally gotten them? The thought makes her stomach churn, her grip tightening on her flashlight.

"And you know where that place is?" Katherine asks quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her.

Brenda shakes her head. "No. But Jorge knows someone. A guy named Marcus. Used to smuggle kids up into the mountains. If Jorge made it out, that's where he'll be taking your friends."

Thomas frowns, his jaw tightening. "If he made it out?"

Brenda laughs, but there's little amusement in her tone. "You two ask a lot of questions."

Katherine glances at Thomas, sharing a glance that only twins can. Their bond has always been unspoken, their connection something deeper than words could ever explain. They'd always asked questions, always searched for answers, never content with blind trust or the unknown.

"We're twins," Katherine says, her voice steady despite the fear twisting in her stomach. "You can't expect less from us."

Brenda chuckles softly, shaking her head as she turns back to the path ahead. But as the sound of her laughter fades, the tunnels fall into an even heavier silence. The flicker of flashlights feels like tiny beacons in the pitch-black darkness, cutting through the oppressive void. Then, a sharp, echoing shriek tears through the air, its sound chilling, distant, but unmistakable.

"Well, that doesn't sound good," Thomas mutters, his voice taut with tension, as he swivels his flashlight toward the source of the noise.

Brenda's steps falter for a second, but she keeps moving, her pace quickening. "Yeah," she says, her voice quieter, more subdued. "They'll be full-term here."

Katherine's breath catches in her throat. Full-term. It's a word they'd heard too many times, a word that sent a shiver down their spines, raising every hair on their bodies. Their hearts pound faster as they move deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels.

They emerge into a larger chamber, the tunnel splitting into several branching paths. The walls, coated in grime, stretch away into darkness on either side. The space feels vast and oppressive, as though the tunnels had all converged here into some forgotten gathering place.

Brenda gestures with her flashlight, leading the way. "I think it's this way," she says, though her tone lacks conviction, the uncertainty in her voice clear.

Thomas narrows his eyes, glaring at the trail Brenda's picked. "You think?" His voice is skeptical, dripping with doubt.

Katherine watches him, a subtle frown on her face. She can feel the worry bubbling beneath his defiance. They both know too well how much hangs on their shoulders-the lives of their friends, their survival, everything. There's no room for guesswork.

"Do people live down here?" Katherine asks, her flashlight sweeping the tunnels, looking for any signs of life, or something, anything that might feel familiar.

Brenda doesn't break stride. "The Solar Storms forced people underground. Jorge said there are settlements scattered throughout these tunnels. Refugees who had no choice but to hide."

Thomas mutters something under his breath, and Katherine glances at him, a small frown tugging at her lips. "So, what about Jorge?" Thomas asks after a long pause. "Is he your father?"

Brenda's grip on her flashlight tightens for a brief moment. "Close enough," she says, her voice distant. "Truth is, I don't really know what he is. He's just always been there. And I've always done what he's asked, no matter how stupid."

Thomas and Katherine exchange a quick look. Jorge had always been some sort of figure, someone they barely understood. But if he'd always been there, guiding Brenda, it made the bond between them feel even more complicated.

"So you don't think the Right Arm is real?" Thomas asks, his voice tinged with doubt, searching for the truth beneath Brenda's guarded demeanor.

Brenda hesitates for a beat, the shadows shifting across her face. "I think..." She lets out a breath, her tone growing darker. "Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope's killed more of my friends than the Flare and the Scorch combined. I just thought Jorge was smarter than that."

Another shriek echoes down the tunnels, cutting off any further questions. The sound sends a shiver down their spines, fear gnawing at them.

"Damn," Katherine curses under her breath, gripping her flashlight tighter, her eyes scanning the darkness ahead. She knows they don't have time to waste. "I hope we won't be the lunch of a crank gang."

Thomas chuckles softly, though there's no humor in it. "Don't worry. It might be a cat?" His voice is light, as if trying to defuse the tension, but there's no real conviction behind his words.

Katherine glances at him, her expression one of pure disbelief. "Let's pretend you didn't say that. We should get the hell out of here."

A nervous laugh escapes Thomas, though it dies in his throat quickly. "Hilarious," he mutters, but there's a smile lingering on his lips despite himself.

Katherine groans, shaking her head in exasperation as she facepalms. "It wasn't a joke, Tommy."

"Whatever," Thomas mumbles, rolling his eyes, but the flicker of a smile stays in his voice.

Katherine shines the beam of her flashlight, sweeping the area where Brenda should have been. But there's no one. The light falls on empty space. Her breath catches in her throat.

"Where's Brenda?" Katherine whispers, her voice tight with worry.

Thomas turns, following her gaze, his expression hardening as the fear creeps in. "Brenda?" His voice cracks as he calls out, the echo of his shout lingering in the narrow, dark tunnels.

"I'm over here!" Brenda's distant voice echoes faintly, distorted by the cold, damp air. The twins exchange quick glances before both their gazes snap toward the sound of her voice. But there's no urgency in it, no panic. It feels... far away.

"Let's move," Thomas says, his voice tight, as he takes a step forward.

"Look at this," Brenda's voice breaks through again, and this time, the beam of her flashlight sweeps over the twisted, webbed vine pattern on the walls. It's unlike anything Katherine has ever seen-disgusting, unnatural. The texture seems to pulse beneath the light, as if the walls themselves are alive, stretching and shifting before her eyes.

"What the hell is this?" Katherine mutters, her face twisted in disgust as her grip tightens on the flashlight.

"I don't know," Brenda answers, her tone laced with unease, reflecting the growing dread that coils tighter around them.

Katherine glances down the hall again, every shadow seeming to twist and writhe with the grotesque life of this place. It's suffocating. Every step feels heavier. "This place is a total disaster."

She starts to lift the flashlight again to examine more of the walls, but the beam cuts short when her breath catches in her chest. "Shit."

Thomas's head snaps toward her, his eyes wide with the same shock. She sees it-the terror mirrored in his expression before he whips his head around.

Gone Cranks. Their broken, contorted bodies lie scattered across the floor, lifeless-at least, they look that way. But neither Thomas nor Brenda speak. They all know the truth. They look dead, but something about the stillness feels worse than if they were moving.

"Are they dead?" Katherine whispers, her voice thin and fragile.

"I don't know," Brenda responds, the tension thick in her voice.

Thomas exhales, his jaw tightening. "I honestly wish they were."

The sound of something skittering toward them makes all three of them jump. Their breaths hitch as they whirl around, only to freeze when they realize what it is. A rat emerges from the pipe nearby, small and insignificant. But the very sight of it sends a chill down their spines.

"Jesus," Brenda mutters, her voice barely more than a whisper. Without hesitation, she kicks the rat, sending it tumbling across the ground. It lands near one of the lifeless Cranks, close to the edge of the faint light cast by her flashlight.

And then it happens. The Crank stirs-slowly at first, almost reluctantly-its skeletal frame twitching as it comes to life. There's something unnatural about it. Something too surreal to be real.

The Crank's tattered suit, once dark but now filthy and frayed, hangs loosely from its emaciated frame. Water, or something fouler, stains both knees of the pants, dark and putrid. But Katherine doesn't focus on that-her gaze is drawn elsewhere, mesmerized.

The man's head. His scalp is bare, patches of bloody scabs in place of hair. His face is pale, wet, riddled with scars and sores. One eye is missing, replaced by a sickly, gummy mass that pulses with a disturbing life of its own. His mouth-that mouth. Lips drawn back in a snarl, revealing rows of gleaming white teeth clenched so tightly they seem ready to snap.

Katherine's breath catches. She can't look away, but every inch of her skin crawls.

The Crank tears into the rat with feral hunger, its teeth gnashing, swallowing with an almost animalistic satisfaction before it slowly lifts itself to its feet. It leans to the right, its left foot and leg twitching uncontrollably, as though it's plagued by some unseen affliction. The same happens with its left arm-the hand clenching and unclenching, as if trapped in a nightmare of perpetual motion.

And then it sees them. The good eye-the only one left-glares, but not just at them. There's something cruel and calculating in the way it scans the three of them, as though it recognizes their fear, their desperation. It doesn't rush, but there's a terrifying certainty in its steps as it begins to move toward them.

Behind it, other Cranks stir from their slumber, groaning and shuffling to life, their ragged cries echoing through the tunnel like the call of some monstrous army.

"Run!" Thomas yells, his voice breaking through the tense silence.

Without a second thought, the three of them turn and flee. The echo of their footsteps reverberates in the narrow tunnels, each step frantic, each breath ragged with terror. The cries of the Cranks rise behind them, echoing louder, like the wail of some ancient, demonic army that's hungry for their blood.

Brenda's flashlight beams jitter wildly as they sprint, crisscrossing the narrow passageways, bouncing erratically as they careen past a maze of right and left turns. The light flickers, casting distorted shadows that twist and shift along the walls.

Thomas and Katherine follow her lead, each step frantic, their breaths ragged, hearts pounding in their chests. The angry cries of the Cranks, echoing behind them, grow quieter now, but they still hang in the air like a menacing threat, persistent and deadly.

Brenda veers right suddenly, dragging the twins along with a firm grip on their arms. Katherine stumbles, her legs barely catching up, but she manages to regain her footing, shoving through the exhaustion and the burning heat. Sweat drips down her face, mixing with the dirt and grime clinging to her skin, but she pushes herself to run faster, pushing back the panic clawing at the edges of her mind.

Thomas keeps his grip on Katherine, holding onto her tightly, their twin connection grounding them in the chaos. His breath is ragged, but he doesn't let go. Together, they keep moving, their bond stronger than fear.

Brenda's light flicks left and then right again, each movement jerky and unsteady. Then she abruptly switches it off, plunging them into complete darkness. The air grows heavier, suffocating, and the twins instinctively reach for each other, their hands brushing in the pitch-black void.

"What are you doing?" Katherine's voice trembles as she extends a hand in front of her, unsure if she's stepping into solid ground or heading straight toward a wall.

"Yeah, what are you doing?" Thomas echoes, his voice rising in confusion, desperation creeping in.

A harsh, urgent shush is the only reply.

Katherine bites her lip, unsure of how much she can trust Brenda. The fear bubbling in her chest grows louder, but she can't stop now. They've come this far-there's no turning back. Thomas squeezes her hand tighter, grounding her in this moment, their twin bond unwavering.

They stumble forward in the darkness, their senses heightened, every sound amplified. Every footstep feels like a battle against the encroaching silence. The twins are one step behind Brenda, unable to see what lies ahead, but always following her blindly.

Brenda stumbles to a stop a few seconds later, coming to a halt at the edge of the collapsed tunnel. They've made it to what feels like the surface, the air fresher, though still tainted with the faint, sickening stench of decay. The sun breaks through cracks in the broken ceiling, casting weak rays onto the dust-coated ground. They all stand there, catching their breath, the Cranks distant but still close enough to keep the dread lingering beneath their skin.

"Okay," Brenda says, her voice tight with exhaustion as she points toward the collapsed building. "That way."

Without hesitation, the twins follow her, their steps shaky but purposeful. Every movement feels heavy, as if the very air around them weighs down on their bodies. They push themselves, climbing up through the rubble toward the remains of the structure.

Katherine feels her heart race as they near the top, the incline steep, every jagged piece of glass and concrete threatening to tear them apart. Her grip tightens on Thomas's arm as they climb, their bond grounding them in this chaos. Her twin-his steady presence-gives her something to hold onto.

They reach the top, pushing through a final hurdle of debris. Thomas glances down at Brenda, who's only a few feet away from the edge, when suddenly her balance shifts.

"Brenda!" Thomas shouts as she begins to slip.

Brenda lets out a startled cry as she crashes into the glass, the sound of her body hitting the floor reverberating through the empty space. The glass shatters beneath her, broken into sharp, jagged shards.

"Brenda!" Katherine echoes, her voice tight with panic, eyes wide with fear.

Brenda looks up, her face pale and disoriented, dust clinging to her tattered clothes. The twins grip the edge of the doorway, trying to hold themselves steady, but their hands tremble as they lean over the broken glass, desperate to reach her.

"You okay?" Katherine's voice cracks, laced with worry, as she calls down to her.

Brenda blinks up at them, her breath shallow, nodding slowly. "Yeah," she mumbles, though the tremor in her voice tells a different story.

"Hang on, we're coming down!" Thomas calls, his grip tightening on the metal bar beside him. He clenches his jaw as he feels his strength ebbing, every muscle screaming in protest.

Brenda's eyes flicker between the twins, panic flickering in her good eye. Her gaze darts to the glass beneath her, now trembling and cracking further beneath the weight of her body.

"No, Brenda, don't move! Don't move!" Thomas's voice cracks as he yells, his eyes glued to the spiderweb of cracks spreading through the glass beneath Brenda. He grips the metal bar tighter, his knuckles turning white as he holds onto Katherine's arm with the other.

Katherine's hand is stretched as far as she dares, her fingers trembling. "Brenda, grab my hand!" she shouts, her voice breaking as panic surges through her. The distance feels like a canyon between them.

"I can't," Brenda whispers, her voice hollow and filled with terror. She stares down at the glass, the web of cracks growing wider. One more step, one more shift, and it'll give way. If that happens, she'll fall-gone, gone forever.

"Brenda, grab my hand!" Katherine pleads again, desperation laced through her voice.

"Come on, Brenda!" Thomas encourages, his grip on the metal bar tightening, muscles screaming from the effort of holding his weight.

Then, the sound of something shifting-an unnatural, guttural screech-erupts from the shadows behind them. A Gone Crank has found them, slithering into the room, its sunken eyes gleaming with hunger. Its mouth twists into a monstrous grin as it charges toward Brenda, claws outstretched, ready to tear into her.

"Brenda!" Thomas yells again, his heart hammering.

Katherine's eyes snap to a wire hanging from the ceiling. It swings gently, taunting them with its proximity. Without hesitation, she reaches out, grabbing the wire and holding one end in her hand. The other she throws toward Brenda.

"Tommy, a little more!" Katherine calls, her voice tight with the weight of their panic. Thomas grits his teeth, lowering her further, the bar creaking under the strain of their combined weight.

"Brenda! Come on! Grab the damn wire!" Thomas shouts, his voice cracking under the pressure.

Brenda's fingers fumble at the wire, her breath ragged, but somehow she manages to grasp it. A sickening shatter reverberates beneath her as the glass gives way, the Crank screaming as it plummets several stories down into the darkness below.

Katherine exhales shakily, her grip on the wire faltering only slightly as relief washes over her. "Let's get out of this place," she says, her voice steady now, though still trembling with the intensity of their escape.