Chapter 28

                                    

                                          
By the afternoon we're completely wiped, barely stumbling along. Minho decides we can rest, and this time I fall asleep under my sheet despite the sun's warmth. The light breeze that has decided to appear helps, and I let the world fade into turbulent dreams of mazes and guns and children who scream as they die.
                          
I wake with a shiver. At first I assume it's because of the Griever in my dream, but I realize a second later that it had a very, very different cause.
                          
I'm cold.
                          
I sit upright in a world that looks completely changed. Instead of the golden blazing sunlight, the desert is bathed in a slate grey color. My sheet is flapping in a sturdy wind, trying to escape my leg that's trapping it down.
                          
Boys are sprawled out around me, solidly asleep. They look almost dead, completing a graveyard-like picture.
                          
What happened?
                          
Something is wrong.
                          
I blink up at the sky, and see the dark clouds on the horizon, and the grey ones directly above us.
                          
A storm is blowing in.
                          
The number of sheets that have blown away, off of the boys they belonged to, are the least of our issues.
                          
"Minho!" I shout, grabbing my sheet and climbing to my feet. "We have to go."
                          
I start kicking the nearest boys, waking them roughly. We don't have time. We need to find shelter before this wind gets worse. Who knows how bad a storm is in this barren land.
                          
"Wake up!" I growl at everyone around me.
                          
They stumble awake, realizing that most of the sheets are gone. I can see the fear in their eyes as they take in the stark surroundings.
                          
"Everything will be fine," I say. "We just have to go. Where is Minho?"
                          
"I'm here." The leader has a grim look on his face. Thomas is beside him, looking equally pressed and stoic.
                          
"Everyone awake?" I ask, glancing around.
                          
Minho nods. "Let's go."
                          
Thankfully, the city is nearby. We just have to get there in time. If we reach the outer buildings before the storm hits, we'll be fine. Right?
                          
We run in a pack, the cool air working with our anxiousness to fuel our speed.
                          
"There's something ahead of us!" Clint yells from the front. We catch sight of the figure he was talking about, and in a few seconds have surrounded what turns out to be an old man lying on the desert floor.
                          
"Who are you?" Thomas asks.
                          
"A Crank," he wheezes. "We're all Cranks here. Have fun dying. I am waiting for It."
                          
"For what?" Minho asks, frowning.
                          
The man gives a toothless grin. "It."
                          
The storm hits.