XX

Lights plus the City of Scorch equals safety minus the fact that a fierce sandstorm was blowing in from the south.

We're so close! We have to make it! We will make it! Brenda inwardly vowed as she bent down to shake her brother awake. "Chuck. C'mon. We have to go."

As Thomas roused Newt from his restless slumber, a loud whistle of wind sounded, blowing puffs of sand into the cave.

"We don't have much time," Brenda looked pointedly at the boys. "Let's get a move on." Pulling her scarf up over the lower half of her face, Brenda seized Chuck's chubby, little hand in her own and set her face towards the rolling hills in the distance.

Thomas wrapped his arm around Newt's waist and supported him as he limped across the dry mounds of sand.

Clumsily and blindly, the group ran as fast as they could through the fast-gathering sand storm. They were gaining ground fast, but the storm seemed even faster. The wind increased its speed; picking up sand and flinging it at the weary travellers as if to taunt them, to give them a taste of what was to come.

Some sand managed to find its way into Brenda's mouth and she screwed up her face at its dry, dead taste. Every limb and bone in her body was aching. Every muscle and tendon was screaming at her to stop, to give up. But Brenda couldn't do that. She'd already let Vince and the others down once. She was not going to let them down again. She was not going down without a fight.

"We're nearly there!" Chuck shouted as he pushed his chubby little legs to go faster. "We can make it!"

Brenda could barely see anything anymore. Sand was in her clothes, her hair, her eyes. It was slowly diminishing her surroundings and sucking at her feet, laughing at her, telling her that she wouldn't make it, that she wouldn't survive.

"Over there!" Thomas yelled, pointing ahead of them.

The darkened form of a small, simple stone hut, secured tightly by a strong, wooden door, loomed into view.

Chuck ran up to the door and tried it. "It's locked!"

"You've got to be kidding me!" Brenda stumbled up behind him.

Thomas lunged forward, smashing and swearing at the door. "C'mon, let us in!" he screamed. "Let us in!"

Brenda, shielding her eyes from the oncoming sand, glanced over her shoulder. The eye of the storm was about to pass over them. If they didn't get to shelter in a matter of seconds, they would be engulfed by a flood of sand and buried alive.

Open the door! she inwardly shrieked, desperation clawing at her throat.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, the door flew open. Instantly, Thomas and Chuck both tumbled inside.

With a loud grunt, Brenda seized Newt by the shirt and threw him and herself towards the opening. They both tripped over the doorsill and fell to the ground just as the door was slammed shut behind them.

A massive wall of sand engulfed the hut, making the small construction shudder at the impact.

"Whew, that was a close one!" Thomas gasped.

Brenda struggled up into a sitting position. "Newt, are you alright?"

Newt nodded soundlessly as he wrestled the scarf off his face.

"Holy shuck!" Thomas yelled out in shock, causing everyone to look over at him. "Okay, okay ... don't anyone move!"

Brenda turned around and gasped.

A young, slender woman, her face cloaked by a black scarf, was standing behind a solid oak table on the opposite end of the room. In her hands was a rifle, which she had pointed straight at them!

"Hey, just put the gun down alright?" Thomas coaxed, holding out his hands. "We're not going to hurt you."

The woman didn't reply. She just sent him a steely glare.

Just then, a door leading into an adjoining apartment swung open and a big, scruffy man stepped inside. He scrutinised the intruders before screwing up his face in disgust. In one, swift motion of his hand, he whipped out a pistol from the holster on his belt and snapped off the safety lock.

"I've only got 3 questions," he growled as he trained the pistol on them. "What are you doing here? Who are you? What do you want?"

Thomas raised his arms in defence. "We've just come out of the Scorch. We were trying to escape the storm. I - I'm Thomas. I - we - just want to stay until the storm's over. We don't want any trouble."

"Any trouble?" the man laughed. "Neither do I, but I've got no choice. You're all a bunch of strangers. How can we trust you? How do I know that you're not from WCKD? No one's come out of the Scorch in a long time."

"You're wrong," Brenda spoke up. "We're not from WCKD. We come from the Right-Arm."

The man aimed his pistol at her head as he walked forward aggressively. "What did
you just say?"

"We're from the Right-Arm," Brenda repeated, slowly and empathetically.

"What do you know about them?" the man pressed, his brows knitted together in suspicion.

"Brenda Salazar," she answered shortly.

The man froze. "What? You know her?"

"I am her."

The man stared at her in disbelief for a moment before lowering the gun. "We've been looking for you."

"Someone care to explain what's going on?" Thomas ventured, looking back and forth between Brenda and the mysterious man.

"It's okay, Evie, you can put the gun down," the man addressed the woman as he crouched down to Brenda's level. "This is the second-in-command of the Right-Arm ... She's our guest and she'll be treated as such."

Straightening up, the man offered Brenda a helping hand before pulling her to her feet. "The name's Lane. It's nice to finally meet you."

It didn't take long for Lane to spill the beans. He and his daughter, Evie, were part of an resistance force known as the Rebels who resided in a fortified underground tunnel beneath the city of Scorch. They weren't as well-known as the Right-Arm but they did what they could to survive and helped others affected by WCKD.

"We returned home from a meeting yesterday to find a small, scraggly group of travellers waiting for us," Lane explained. "Apparently, they had travelled across the Scorch in much the same way as you. They, too, came from the Right-Arm. I took them to see my leader, Clint. If I'm not mistaken, they should still be with him and the rest of the underground as we speak."

Brenda's breath caught in her throat. "Wait, the others...they're alive?"

Lane nodded. "If you count fifteen of your forces to be a lot, yeah, they're alive and safe."

Brenda heaved a deep sigh of relief and thankfulness. "Thank god! I thought we were the only ones who escaped WCKD! I thought the others died in the explosion!"

"You can see them tomorrow," Lane assured her. Then, he surveyed the group with a crinkled-up nose, "But first, let's do something about that smell."

Brenda and the others were given baths, fresh sets of clothes, refreshing bowls of soup, and mattresses to crash on. Evie, who had a background in nursing, even re-bandaged Newt's leg and gave him some medication.

Later that night, as everyone settled down to sleep, Brenda stared up at the ceiling, a new hope rising within her heart.

Could her uncle still be alive?

~~~~

The next morning, they were all awoken early by Lane and gathered around the table to eat a hearty breakfast.

Never had Brenda felt so rested and refreshed. It was a very nice exchange from the Scorch.

As Evie cleared away the dishes, Lane launched into the day's plans. "Okay, so
today I'll take you all to the underground. Be careful though, not everyone there is very welcoming so stay quiet and let me do the talking."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"We're good?" Lane slapped his legs in anticipation. "Alright, Evie, let's roll."

Ten minutes later, they all stepped outside into the warm sunlight.

"Welcome to the city of Scorch!" Lane proclaimed, motioning to the view in front of them.

Newt, Thomas, Chuck and Brenda all turned around and stared, aghast, in the direction that Lane was pointing too.

The city of Scorch was even worse, if it were possible, then the infested area around Crank Palace! The streets were littered with decaying remains of rubbish, corpses, rodents and the occasional broken-down car. Every single building and construction left standing was either partly decimated or completely ruined.

The citizens of the city, the ones who were still alive at least, had set up tents and shelters for themselves in the middle of the town square. The place was swarming with men, women, and children - all raggedly thin and haggard. It was a pitiful sight. What was once a glorious and exciting tour-site was now the abode of death and destruction.

Just then, a distant, blood-curdling scream rent the air.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Newt demanded, his hand straying to the knife stuck in his belt.

"We call them cranks," Lane responded. "Trust me, young fellow, you never want to meet one."

"Cranks?" Thomas turned questioningly to Brenda.

"They used to be people," she replied quietly, "Until they got the Flare."

A moment of horrified silence issued.

"Shuck," Thomas muttered under his breath.

"Yeah," Lane agreed. "They ain't a pretty sight, that's for sure. Okay, let's go."

Lane started off down the hill towards the city, Brenda and the others following.

As they walked down the main street leading into the crowded square, Brenda continued to gape around her in horror.

The living conditions in this place were disgusting.

Lane led them down a narrow alleyway that opened up into another street. As they rounded the corner, they went down another cobblestoned street before clattering down a flight of stairs leading to the lower level of the city.

As they entered the dusky, dank tunnels, shrouded in darkness and wreaking of havoc, Lane pulled out his pistol and cocked it. Cautiously, the group crept through the tunnel, making their way along a few wrecked train-track rails which led to a huge, barred metal door guarded by four, burly men.

Upon spotting their shadowy figures, the men stepped forward and levelled their guns at the newcomers. "Drop your weapons!" one of them ordered brusquely.

"Guys, chill, it's me. It's Lane. Don't worry about these guys, they're with us," Lane called out to the guards as he approached them.

The men stepped back, reluctantly lowering their weapons. They glared suspiciously at Brenda and the others.

"Fine," one of them spoke up distrustingly. "But one inkling of trouble outta them and they all get booted, understand?"

Lane nodded.

One of the guards stepped forward and plugged a pass-code into the entry machine near the metal grate. The door's seal hissed as it was unlocked. The men tugged it open and allowed everyone to pass through.

As Lane led the way into the underground, Brenda and the others looked around them, amazed at what they saw.

The outcasts of society had banded together and made themselves a home.

The perimeter was like a huge subversive house with numerous occupants. There was a massive kitchen, a dining room, a living area and a few corridors stacked with bunks. Across the wide expanse of space were rows of rifles, axes and knives. Trainees, under their mentors' careful eyes, were practising with the deadly weapons or boxing each other in a roped arena.

The peaceful serenity of the moment was cut short when someone's thunderous voice boomed through the air, "Lane! What the hell?"

Everyone in the area turned to look in the newcomers' direction as a huge, muscly guy covered with tats and piercings strode over to them.

"What is the meaning of all this?" Tats demanded angrily, motioning over Lane's shoulder to where Brenda and the others were standing. "We just let in a bunch of random guys and now you're back with more? Who are they? Get them out of here!"

As if on cue, a few fierce-looking men started to move in on them, herding them back towards the door.

"Wait!" Brenda yelled. "Stop!"

"Hang on just a minute!" Newt called out desperately.

"Lane!" Thomas shouted. "Do something!"

"You can't just make us leave!" Brenda snarled as two burly men grasped her arms and jerked her back.

"Wait, Clint, you haven't heard me out yet!" Lane addressed his leader urgently. "Please... "

"Branda!"

Everybody froze.

A dark-skinned girl, her wrists and arms wrapped in material bands that were every colour of the rainbow, forced her way to the front of the fast-gathering crowd.

Brenda gasped. "Harriet?"

As Harriet rushed forward, the men holding onto Brenda released her, allowing her to hug her friend. 

"Oh my god, I thought you were dead!" Harriet cried as she buried her head in Brenda's shoulder.

"Brenda!" another cry rang out and she looked up to see Jorge shoving his way towards her, Frypan, Winston and Trish in tow.

Jorge walked up to Brenda and crushed her in a big bear-hug. "I thought I'd lost you."

Brenda wrapped both arms around her uncle's waist, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

Trish sighed in relief. "I can't believe you made it, Be!" she leaned over and squeezed Brenda's shoulder fondly.

"Wait," Clint stepped in, his brow crinkled in confusion. "You know them, Jorge?"

Jorge pulled away from Brenda and smiled. "Of course. Clint, this is my niece, Brenda Salazar."

Gif: Clint.

Q: Would you have followed Lane into the underground?

~ If you enjoyed this chapter or want to give me feedback on anything, don't hesitate to vote, comment or DM me. I'm open to any suggestions, ideas or constructive criticism. I love chatting with my readers and I love to hear what they think about my writing. However, any hate or negativity posted on here will be deleted and reported. Have a great day everyone! Catch you all soon. ~