Chapter 12 - Apart

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Song - Born to Die (Lana Del Rey)


We're right behind you...

No, you weren't.

You're stronger now.

No, I'm not.

The final words that Thomas may have ever said to me kept circling my brain like a toy train.

Jorge said that Brenda knew about the end of the song. And that she wouldn't have gone back to grab whatever it was unless it was vitally important. And that there are lots of tunnels and passageways from the compound to the city we were heading to. It felt wrong to walk further and further away from the potential of finding Thomas's dead body. But although I wanted to deny it, Jorge was right. There was nothing we could do if we were captured so we just had to pray that they made it out before...

I shook my head at the thought.

Newt hadn't said a word. He walked behind Jorge ten meters in front. I didn't say anything to him. I knew he didn't want to hear it. Because I knew how he felt. Although it was awful, I did. Except with me, there was no hope of my love coming back. But now as I thought more and more about Thomas and Newt and prayed that one of my best friends was alive, that familiar growing sensation of grief and guilt started to bubble over in my brain. I pictured the list one more time and couldn't bear to add Tom's name on the end. If we don't have him... I don't know what we would do.

We walked through the night, over sand dunes. Jorge occasionally looked over his shoulder at the group of us silently moving forward. A comfort was that his face looked confident, confident perhaps at Brenda and Thomas's survival. 

The sun rose.

A beautiful yellow-pink sunrise welcomed the new day. As the sun rose on the horizon, we finally came face to face with our destination when we reached the top of a tall dune, another city. But a different sound wafted from ruins I could barely recognize. Civilization... a mix of shouts, machinery, and other city sounds. From here all we could see was the top of destroyed buildings but beneath... that's where the people were. We made our way through an apparent main street, makeshift shelters, fires in metal canisters, and stray dogs scattered everywhere. People milled around, many lay on the ground, sleeping or perhaps unconscious from a few too many drinks.

"Stay close," Jorg murmured to all of us as we tried to ignore all obvious stares from the people around us, "We're heading for the center, I have an old friend, Marcus, he can help us get out of this shithole,"

I gulped while avoiding several old men's gazes. Thankfully, Minho was walking by my side and sent everyone glares like daggers back.

Forget about being subtle I guess...

We turned a corner and were met with a massive crowd of bodies. A cacophony of shouts and screams erupted from them. People shoved and threw their fists at one another. Blood sprayed and more and more people joined in the mess.

A brawl.

Jorge and Newt started to back away quickly but were too late. A stumbling body crashed into Newt, sending him to the ground. Minho pushed forward to the front and shoved the man who had now gotten to his feet.

"Watch it!" Minho growled. I heaved up Newt to his feet. His nose was bleeding. I wiped away the blood with my shirt sleeve. His eyes remained distant as I worked.

I turned to look at the man death-starring Minho. He was skinny and short. Long dark hair down to his shoulder and bushy facial hair. His clothes, hair, and skin were greasy and grimy.

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