The Death Cure || 1

Prologue

Lawrence was a genius.. in his own mad way I suppose.

But these menial tasks, made me doubt his smarts.

Our mission was clear; break into WCKDs base and retrieve intel. Simple. Always bloody simple with him.

My head was crowded with the thoughts of pure frustration, and I felt my jaw grit under my mask. The thundering wheels of our truck drummed against my ears, the harsh winds whirring against the tin exterior of the vehicle, the one I so desperately did not want to be in today.

The blistering heat wasn't helping either, all for some shoddy stout building, it's grey walls buried in the dunes making it a time sensitive issue, soon to be engulfed in the unforgiving sands.

The Scorch was becoming increasingly temperamental, the grains of sand whipping against my skin through my clothes, not helping my mood in particular, but I had a job to do. It was all for the cause.

I raised myself out from the truck door frame, squinting through the blinding rays beating down on us. Upon a clear scan of our surroundings, I signalled to the outpost, marking my squadrons opportunity of pursuit.

The outpost had clearly been abandoned, the blatant lack of guards allowed us to waltz on through the busted doors swinging from their hinges, creaking in the howling wind. Apparently even WCKD wouldn't waste the manpower on a trashed base like this.

We pushed through the storm, our formation advancing through the gates, all of us dying to get out of the field. Our feet were met by an ocean of glass, swimming through the sand, their shark fins poking at our soles. Test tubes and bullet casings rolled limply from side to side in the persistent gusts, softly clinking with every movement.

There were bodies everywhere, half mangled forms, some unrecognisable, lab coats sprawled in and amongst the decrepit rubble, drowning in blood. I couldn't help but recoil at the sight, the air filling with the overpowering odour of decay.

And that was just what had covered the floor. Crimson drips polluted the walls, some drops reaching the ceiling, smeared on its surface. It had been a blood bath, a vicious slaughter.

"Diana, Eric, cover the far left side, yeah? Salvage anything you can from the computers. Alex stay with me." I commanded, removing my mask to set it down on a rusted steel table next to me, it's ear-splitting shriek of rusty coppered wheels scratching against the legs rang out through the lab as it wiggled under its new weight.

"Clear." Alex, my second in command, announced from ahead of me, his mask being set down as mine had, a soft clunk indicating its contact.

"Amelia, Harriet, you're on surveillance, we don't want any loose ends."

I scanned the area for anything that could be of use to Lawrence: documents, transfers, whatever. But nothing, the whole place had been stripped of anything remotely helpful.

Regardless, I carried on down the halls, my gun firmly in my hand, the trigger precariously pressed to my fingertips, each step crunching like cracks of thunder, like a warning of certain doom. A reminder that what happened here would most definitely happen to intruders like me. Outstanding.

A brief light flashed into the corner of my eye. Once. Again. Again. A soft red and white blinking corroding my visual with its persistence. It was then I managed to catch sight of it, a huge keyboard.

It was filled with buttons, one of which in particular immediately caught my eye. It was the bright flashing red and white key, blaring at me, luring me in.

"Hello. My name is Dr Ava Paige. I'm the director of operations here at the World Catastrophe Killzone Department."

A monitor linked up to the keyboard illuminated, cranks shrieking as doctors torturously poking at their black oozing brains washed over the lab coated woman narrating the events on the screen, their rippling flow or Flare wrenching out memories of people I'd much rather forget.