𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐒 - 𝘚𝘊𝘖𝘙𝘊𝘏 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘈𝘓𝘚

7 ~ 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚... 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣

Newt

 A figure emerged from the flames. A very singed figure, with a smudged but furious face and long hair that was whipping in the wind. I almost laughed.

Of course; nothing could kill Lottie at this point. Not even a fire that came directly from Hell – she would just rise from the ashes like a phoenix.

The phoenix spread her wings; a beautiful display of gold and scarlet and flame. The phoenix began to run, directly towards us. "Go!" Lottie screamed. "Why aren't you running?"

At her words, no one hesitated to obey. She joined Brenda, Jorge, and Thomas in the front of the group. My mouth was still wide open. I had no idea how I was running; I hadn't even told my legs to do anything.

"How in the hell-"

"Not now, Newt!"

"Stay put, please." The voice came from the WICKED aircraft. I ignored it. Then I felt the heat, and the explosions. The WICKED Berg was shooting at us again, but seemed to purposely miss. They were only shooting close enough to seriously injure us so we wouldn't be able to escape them again.

We spent the rest of the journey into the city grabbing each other's clothes and pulling each other out of harm's way. Finally, we were in the city. Some of the others ducked into the first building they reached, but Jorge called them back. "That's the first one WICKED will check! Besides, we have to stick together." He and Brenda led the way and chose a promising-looking building; the only one that didn't seem like it would collapse at the slightest push.

"Look for trapdoors or hidey-holes," Brenda called. We searched in the dark for a good place to hide.

"Here!" Clint said. We all headed over to his voice at once. There, we opened a dusty trapdoor that was in the floor. Minho disappeared down there in the dark first.

"How's it looking?" I called down to him.

"Can't see a shucking thing," Minho grumbled back.

"I've got a flashlight," piped up Thomas.

"Well, you should've mentioned that earlier, shuckface." Minho snapped. Thomas jumped through the trapdoor next, switching on the light.

"Search every building." I heard a muffled voice from outside, and then a crash. WICKED had landed, and was breaking down the doors, searching for us.

"Hurry, hurry," I urged the others. I was the last to jump, slamming the trapdoor closed behind me.

Thomas' light shone around us, revealing that the space we were in seemed to be someone else's shelter. There were torn blankets scattered about the dusty floor, and pillows. There were boxes; lots of boxes, filled with who-knows-what. In one corner, there were a stack of backpacks.

"Well, that's helpful." Minho said cheerfully, and strode over to the stack to get each of us a backpack. We spread out, each taking a box to search through. Mine was filled with clothes; jackets, scarves, boots, sweaters, and cargo pants of all sizes. Others held food; cans of soup, packs of stale crackers and dried fruit, and a few smushed granola bars. Julian found some flashlights and batteries in one box, and handed one out to everyone. Zart found a case of bottled water, and even a few bottles of soda that had probably gone flat weeks ago. But the thing that got Jorge and Brenda the most excited were the books of matches that Winston had found in his box.

"Matches," Jorge said with relish. "These will save our lives."

"Does anybody want to change their clothes?" I asked, lifting my box. It turned out that everyone did. Soon, the box was empty, and everyone had found their own area to change. I had taken some brown cargo pants and some thick boots, with a white t-shirt and a brown jacket.