Finality | The Maze Runner / Newt ³ ✓

{1.5}

Disclaimer:

I do not own The Maze Runner, but if I did, I'd film it like The Office.

-✼-

Lawrence was silent for a moment before whispering, "Those are some awfully polite Cranks."

"Maybe they're not past the Gone yet?" Thomas suggested, then apparently thought the idea was stupid, because he quickly added, "Or not in the mood to get run over by a big van?"

"Maybe not all Cranks are the same," I replied thoughtfully. "Maybe they're not all bad and want to kill every living human left."

Even as I said the words, part of me didn't believe it. I shoved down the dread creeping down my spine as best as I could. Trepidation made my heart pound, positive something awful was about to happen.

"Well, either way, gun it," Brenda ordered blankly. It was both a blessing and a curse for her to be unfazed by almost anything. "Before they change their minds."

Lawrence obeyed and pushed hard on the gas, not daring to slow down this time. The Cranks that lined the walls watched carefully as we shot past. They had the same maddened eyes and battered faces as every other Crank we've seen, but they didn't try to attack us.

It could have been reassuring if it didn't seem so wrong.

Sure enough, just before we were about to finally pass them, there were several loud pops and Lawrence lost control of the vehicle. It swerved wildly to the right until finally crashing its front end into the wall violently. My entire body gave a jolt as I struggled to hold on, hands clenching onto the front of the armrests while my biceps pulled at the sudden movement. Two Cranks were pinned beneath the front of the van, screaming in agony and pounding their fists on the hood in an attempt to free themselves.

"What the hell?" Lawrence demanded before firmly putting the van in reverse.

The vehicle gave an ear-piercing screech as we moved backward as much as we could handle. The two Cranks dropped to the ground and were immediately swarmed by the ones closest to them, the sounds of wailing and beating making my gut wrench. Thumping came from all over as each of the people surrounding us began knocking their fists against the van. To top it all off, even as Lawrence was flooding the pedal, the tires squealed and spun, unable to gain traction on the ground.

"I retract my earlier statement!" I exclaimed, unsure of where to look. The leering faces of Cranks peered through every window; the sounds of their fists thudding against the van made it impossible to think.

"What's wrong?" Brenda yelled over the noise.

"They did something to the tires!" Lawrence replied. His voice was laced with fear as he glanced downward at the rotating wheels. "Or the axels. Something!"

He continuously switched back and forth from reverse to drive, but it didn't do much more than getting us a few feet. A woman with wildly tangled hair approached the window to Thomas' right with a shovel clenched firmly in her hands. She raised it high above her head before bringing it down against the glass. Luckily, it held.

"We really need to get out of here!" Thomas shouted. He was watching the woman with eyes so wide it appeared like they'd pop out of his head at any second. His bottom lip was quivering with fear.