𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐒 - 𝘚𝘊𝘖𝘙𝘊𝘏 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘈𝘓𝘚

17 ~ 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙙

Lottie

 We'd lost Winston and Clint. I tried not to look out at the sand dunes, where their bodies were. When the lightning fell, it illuminated the dunes, and I could just make them out, lying face first on the sand, certainly dead. If they weren't by now, they would be soon. It was too dangerous to go back for them, but I still felt guilty. Newt, Thomas and I did everything we could to get Minho under the cliff. Why couldn't we do the same for Winston or Clint?

There was nothing I could do now. With a silent tear sliding down my right cheek, I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep; the lightning still imprinted behind my eyelids.

The next morning, I was shaken awake by Jorge. He shoved a stale, crumbly granola bar into my hand, yanked me to my feet, and pushed me out from under the outcropping.

The lightning storm had stopped. It was now replaced with a cloudless sky, and the burning sun just beginning to rise from behind the mountains. How ridiculous that just a few hours ago there was thunder so loud it shook the ground and lighting so deadly that it killed our friends?

We began climbing the mountains. It was a steep climb, so we had to move in a single-file line. I made sure to walk pressed against the rock, not looking down. My face must have given away my fear, because Newt called from behind, "You doing alright?"

I glanced back at him and gave a weak smile. "Yeah. I'm just... not a big fan of heights."

"Yeah... you're not the only one." He peers over the edge, shudders, and rights himself again. I would expect this from him... given his history with heights. I reached behind me to give his hand a reassuring squeeze before continuing, making sure I placed my feet in the exact place that Jorge did a few feet ahead so I knew I wouldn't make any fatal mistakes.

I was keeping a close eye on Minho; he was a bit wobbly on his feet this morning, but he seemed to be doing alright now. His clothes were burned, and in some places, the lightning had singed right through the fabric. In those places, angry red burns were visible on his arms, neck and legs, though he never complained.

After a few hours of exhausting climbing, we came across a platform that was wide enough for all of us to stand. Jorge called for a break, and we all took his offer gladly. I leaned against the rock, still avoiding the edge, and took slow sips from a water bottle.

"How's your leg holding up?" I called to Newt, who was also keeping his distance from the drop.

He shrugged. "Could be worse," he said, but I could tell it was really bothering him from the way his face twitched every time he took a step. I bit my lip, wanting nothing more to take away his pain, but I knew that that was impossible. The only thing we could do was to reach the Right Arm; maybe they could help him.

Jorge and Brenda were huddled in a corner like they always were, rationing the food found in the backpacks. Alex and Frypan we sitting against the wall. Alex seemed to be on the verge of tears, clearly mourning his friends that we lost last night to the lightning. Julian looked like he was ready to throw the next person that spoke to him off the mountain.

Minho was standing somewhat close to the edge, pouring droplets of water on his burns, wincing as they made contact. Thomas stood a few feet away, right at the drop off. He looked like he was admiring the view.

You could just barely see the city that we'd come from; it was a small blur in the distance. Thomas pointed at it. "Look how far we've come," he said encouragingly, taking an unconscious step forward. The rock crumbled beneath his foot, and Thomas began to fall.

"Thomas!" I shrieked, rushing forward, arms outstretched, but I knew I could never make it in time.

Minho could. He dropped the bottle of water and lunged forward, just clasping his hands around Thomas' wrists just before he fell onto the jagged rocks below.