They were about 10 miles away from the hanger. So far, the only cranks they had seen were occupied, fighting one another for scraps of food. Lawrence hadn't spoken since they left the Right Arm. He looked plagued with thoughts but he drove with obvious caution, making sure to keep to the main road. Thomas thought it was safe enough to rest on the back seat for the remainder of the drive. He turned his body so that his back was leant on one of the rear doors, and then balanced his head against the window. He must have been asleep for 5 miles before it happened.

Lawrence slammed on the breaks and a piercing shriek sounded from underneath the van. The screech tore through the air and Thomas was thrown like a rag doll towards the front window screen. His scrawny body crumpled against Lawrence's seat and all the breath disappeared from his lungs. He lay winded on the back seat, scorch air frantically rushing to fill his lungs.

He slowly opened his eyes to see Lawrence hovering above him with panic plastered all over his face. His eyes were wide and sweat dripped from his forehead.
"What happened?" Thomas snapped rubbing his eyes to clear his vision.
"I don't know! I think we hit something, it might have been a Crank. I don't know. But whatever it is it's stuck under the truck and now we can't move!".

This couldn't be happening. They were less than 5 miles away form the hanger and now they were trapped on the open road. Cranks were sure to have spotted them, and it wouldn't be long before they started to attack. Lawrence sat back in his chair and rubbed his hands against his face. He was visibly shaking by this point, the whole situation was terrifying.

After a few minutes Thomas was beginning to feel restless. He was sure that at any moment Cranks would start ripping into the vehicle tearing it to pieces until they reached them.
"We need to do something" Thomas screamed suddenly.
"What do you suggest? We get out and walk to the hanger?".
"No you Shank!" His head was still pounding and the heat inside the van was unbearable. "What if I took a look under the truck?" Thomas sighed with exhaustion. "There's no Cranks about and you can cover me".

Lawrence stared at Thomas for a few moments. You could see his brain deliberating the risks involved, but they both knew something had to be done. If they stayed there, they were dead for sure. "Fine" Lawrence grunted. "You see a Crank you get back in the truck without so much as a second thought. You die, and I may as well die with you".
Lawrence turned away to ready his weapon. A fully loaded launcher. "Good that" Thomas muttered to himself. It was no fun working with a complete stranger. Minho would have made a joke about leaving him to save his own skin. After a nod that suggested Lawrence was ready, Thomas clicked the safety lock on the door beside him and hesitantly stepped outside of the vehicle.

The sweltering scorch air slapped him right across the face. It was thick and hung in his throat. He hoped that there was somewhere left on earth where the air didn't feel like this. Air consistency never crossed his mind in the Glade. He backed away from the truck and crouched down on the ground. He checked that there was no sign of any Cranks and then tilted his head to peer beneath the truck. Immediately he was filled with relief at the realisation they had just hit an old garbage can. How Lawrence hadn't seen it Thomas could not understand. Reaching under with both arms, he slid the can out and then onto the side of the road. It was empty, despite a few blood stains and some grubby looking marks on the base.

The Scorch air was an unavoidable thought. It felt as though the sides of his neck were tightening like someone was turning a crank on his throat. There was hardly a sound outside of the van. Only the calming whistle of the wind and the clang of metal as the garbage can rolled down the slope next to the road. Thomas almost missed the glade when he stood in this empty barren land. He didn't miss the grievers or the concrete walls, he missed the lush grass that covered the glade like a blanket of green. He wondered if he would ever live on a patch of land like that again.

"Tommy. What the hell are you doing here?"

Thomas recognised the voice instantly. He was facing the truck so he couldn't see who it was, but no one else had ever called him Tommy.

"Newt."