Dead.

Winston was dead.

It was a couple hours later after they heard the gunshot and it still hadn't sunken in that he was gone. Not for Bea. Not for anyone. The sun was still scorching hot and the humidity - well it was there - but at least the wind was officially gone.

Nobody had said anything to each other apart from Thomas checking in with everyone every half an hour or so. Bea realised he always had a look of enthusiasm and hope in his eyes but she knew that it was bullshit. She could see right through him. He liked to think he had built a wall but she could see the pain in his eyes and the fear that he was going to lose anymore people.

"Everyone good?"

There it was - the half an hour check in. The group responded with a bunch of 'yes's and hums as usual as they carried on walking. Until Thomas froze.

"Hey can you guys see that?" He said, putting his hand out, motioning for everyone else to stop walking. Bea followed Thomas' gaze to see....a house? More like a badly built hut. It was constructed of planks of wood and sticks and who knows what to put it altogether.

"What the shuck...." Minho mumbled, trailing off because of the odd sight in front of them.

"Maybe someone's in there," Thomas proposed optimistically, "Maybe - maybe someone that can help us."

"Thomas, I don't think someone who lives in a random house - that's terribly built might I add - in the middle of the scorch is-" Bea began arguing before Thomas cut her off.

"Shut up Bea, I know what I'm doing," he said harshly.

And before even discussing him with the group, he gripped onto the straps of his bag and started heading in the direction of the little hut.

I don't think this is a good idea.

Exchanging apprehensive looks, the group followed after Thomas wondering what they were gonna get themselves into. Once the reached the house, they stopped outside waiting for Thomas to give the next cue. Clearing his throat, he knocked on the wooden door and it instantly fell to the ground - that's how badly the hut was made.

"Hello," Thomas called out, "Anybody in here?"

There was no response. Consequently, Thomas gestured for everybody to stay put as he crept inside the little hut. After a minute or so of looking, he came out of the wooden hut looking a little bit deflated. And once again they carried on walking.

"Hey!"

At the sound of an unfamiliar voice they spun around to see a person.

"Hey...um do you think you could help us?" Thomas asked, walking up to the person. The person was a woman who looked like she was in her late 50's - pushing early 60's - and she was wrapped up in clothes from head to toe which is extremely odd considering it is searing hot in the scorch.

"What would you kids like?" she said in a high-pitched voice, her eyes twinkling.

"Um, we're looking for this group of people - The Right Arm," Bea voiced taking a few steps forwards so she was now next to Thomas and the rest of the group was behind them.

"Oh, I don't suppose I have heard of them," the lady replied, the tone in her voice slightly creepy, "That's pretty unfortunate."

"Well-um, you must have been in the scorch for a while, right?" Thomas continued, pushing for an answer, "Do you know if there are any other people around or like how far away we are from the mountains?"

"I said I don't know," the woman snapped, changing from sweet an innocent to rude and hostile in seconds. Bea and Thomas looked at each other with an uneasy look in their eyes.

"Well sorry for bothering you ma'am," Beatrice conclude, gently tugging on Thomas' arm for them to turn around and leave. The rest of the group also had confused looks on their faces but they knew it would be best if they just left.

"There is something you kids could to help me..." the woman said questioningly, her tone changing back to being sickly sweet.

Jesus, is this woman bipolar or something.

The group turned around for the second time to see the woman with a sly smile on her face.

"You-you have to help me," the woman pleaded, dropping to her knees and clasping her hands together, "I keep getting these sort of visions and they hurt me. You have to help me please help-"

The woman carried on muttering some sort of mantra under her breath that none of the group could understand. But this is when Bea got a better look at the woman; her veins on her neck and wrists they weren't the normal colour.

They were black.

Her eyes widened in realisation. It all clicked together; the mood swings, the lashing out, the needing help and covering up so nobody knew she was a crank. She whipped her head round to the rest of the group saying 'we need to go now' and they all frowned at her in confusion at her sudden urgency.

As the woman's eyes were latched on Thomas who was standing next to Bea, she secretly pointed at the woman's neck and wrists and the rest of the group quietly gasped. Bea saw the fear in their eyes; they knew what a crank was capable of after being in that abandoned mall and it killing Winston.

Bea motioned for the rest of the group to slowly back away which they did, leaving Thomas and Bea a few feet in front of the crazy woman. Thomas' head whirled around to see his friends steadily backing away and as he was about to call out to them Bea slapped a hand onto his mouth.

"Look at the woman," she hissed quietly, "Look at her veins, she's got The Flare. She's not past The Gone yet but..."

Thomas gulped, nodding his head in understanding. He lightly gripped onto Beatrice's wrist and jerked his head in the direction to leave. They had only taken a few steps until the lady had leapt onto her feet.

"Wait please! Please don't go," she begged, "You have to help me!" Thomas and Bea didn't reply instead they just kept slowly backing away, not making any quick sudden movements.

"Please! Please help me! Make them stop!" she pleaded walking close to the two alarmed teenagers. The racing beat of Bea's heart pulsated under her fingertips as bile started to rise in her throat. The rest of the group had luckily made it quite far away and were now crouching behind a few boulders waiting for Thomas and Bea to catch up with them.

"On three we run okay," Thomas whispered, his voice barely audible. Bea nodded as they started quickening their pace.

"Help me!" the woman cried out, now stumbling towards them in a zombie like way.

"Okay," Thomas murmured, "One, t- RUN!" He cut himself off as the woman let out an ear-splitting shriek and lurched forwards at them. Immediately, the two set off in a dash towards the rest of the group who were looking at them with worried looks on their faces. Thomas and Bea speedily sprinted away, both having an equally fast pace, dodging boulders that were in their path.

Bea quickly snapped her head round to see that the woman was incredibly close now.

Damn these cranks are fast.

The woman was shrieking inaudible words, her arms flailing all over the place. Without warning, she dug her hand into her pocked and pulled out a knife that was deathly sharp. Bea tensed, her eyebrows shooting upwards as she sprinted even faster next to Thomas.

But it wasn't enough.

Bea turned her head round again just in time to see the lady, that was even closer now, throw herself forwards directing the knife in Thomas' direction. Although she was petrified, Bea thought quick on her feet, placing her hands onto Thomas' back and shoving him to the ground. However, she didn't think this plan through clearly as immediately after she did that, she felt a cold blade of metal slice through her skin and she collapsed, her head viciously colliding with the ground.

Groaning, she curled into the ground, cradling her head in her hands. She squinted her eyes open at the sound of a gunshot to see the outline of Minho's figure holding a gun. She wanted to thank him but was in too much pain to even speak.

"Bea!"

A few seconds after being pushed to the sandy ground, Thomas had jumped up and was by Beatrice's side within seconds. He crouched beside the girl, pulling her hands away from her face.

"Are you okay? You fell pretty badly," he asked urgently, his eyes darting across her face.

"I think just a concussion," she groaned rubbing her temple. Her eyes were drooping shut and she could just about make out the rest of the group, quickly making their way towards her.

"Hey. Hey. Hey!" Thomas pressed, tapping the side of Bea's head to get her to stay awake, "Don't fall asleep now we-we need to...keep you awake." She swallowed a lump in her throat, tilting her head so she wasn't making direct eye contact with the sunlight.

"Beatrice!"

"Are you okay?"

"Are you hurt?"

"Bea!"

"Do you think you can-" Thomas started but instantly stopped when he saw a thin line ripped into the seams of her top with splashes of red around it. His eyes flickered from Bea's face to her torso and then he slowly lifted her top upwards. He tried to hide his shock and horror but it was no use because even a stranger could see his emotions.

"Is it bad?" Bea wheezed, trying to tilt her head downwards to look at the gash but winced in pain at the action. What she couldn't see was a pool of blood forming on the ground beneath her stab wound.

"Oh-uh, um no. We-we.... we can fix it. It's not bad..." he trailed off, trying to reassure her but failing miserably.

Bea reached down, pressing her hand to her hip and when she brought it back she gasped inwardly. It was drenched with blood. Her blood.

"Hey don't touch that," Thomas hissed protectively, gripping her forearm so she wouldn't get the blood anywhere. Bea was still in shock; she couldn't believe she saved him and got herself stabbed.

"I-I knew it. I knew I should have listened to you," he rambled on, his whole body trembling now, "This-this is all my fault. I-I'm so, so sorry."

"Thomas. Thomas. Thomas look at me!" Bea pleaded using her non-bloody hand to tilt his chin so he would make eye contact with her. Once she did she saw a mix of fear and sadness in his eyes giving her even less hope.

"Am I going to die?" she croaked out, tears threatening to spill but she kept them at bay. The brunette boy shook his head aggressively, his breathing becoming more and more unsteady by the second.

"Then it's okay," she whispered reassuringly, using the pad of her thumb to wipe away stray tears that were streaming down his face. He leaned back up from the position he was crouching over Bea in and ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of a solution. The rest of the group were now kneeling around her, her head in Aris' lap, as they looked at her stab wound.

"Dang that's gonna need stitches," Frypan exclaimed, causing Bea to groan in annoyance, rolling her head backwards. Everyone turned to look at the dark-skinned boy with a questioning look.

"Don't look at me," he said, putting his hands up in defence, "I was just a cook. I ain't gotta clue how to do that klunk."

"Well I don't know how to do them either," Thomas mumbled, guiltily looking down at the ground. A chorus of 'me neither's and 'I can't do it's broke out amongst the group until everyone's gaze fell on Teresa.