"Jesus." I rolled awake, my eyes adjusting to the bright light of the room I was in. Then I saw Victor looking over me, he was kneeling down, stupidly grinning. "Jesus!" I yelped, jolting on the floor. "What are you doing Carrot Crotch?!"

"Just noticing how pretty you look when you sleep." He sighed dreamily, a joking smile flashed across his face.

"Ugh, so creepy." Groaning, I massaged my temples. My brain collided against my skull, creating a massive headache. Hangovers. The worst. I had come down crashing from my high. Gally was gone. The guilt stayed behind.

But he was gone. He wasn't real. Not anymore. Gally was dead.

"I can't believe you got sloshed without me." Victor sat beside me on the dusty panels of wood. He patted my back to keep me distracted, out of pain.

"Yeah, me neither." I mumbled over my words, planting my hands on the ground for leverage. Crawling onto my feet I saw my friends scattered across a wide, open room. Music pounded from below. We were on the floor above the party house. We had to be.

Thomas was awake, chatting idly with Teresa as he rubbed his head. Brenda lounged on a dusty couch. Newt and Chuck whispered together from across the room, keeping secret from the others.

The others turned their heads when they heard me talking, saw me awake. Minho wore a smug grin, crossing over to lightly jostle me by my shoulders.

"Took you long enough Shuckface." He laughed with a scoff, being so kind to give my head an intended playful push. It made my brain ache just the same.

"I suggest that you talk! You son of a bitch!" My attention was called over to Jorge roaring at a man bound up in a chair.

THWACK

I recoiled at the sight of Jorge hitting the man's bloodied face, his fist heavy and thick. Upon taking a closer look, I realized that the tied up man was the blond guy who insisted on Brenda, Thomas, and I drink from his flask. Filled with my tenacious curiosity, I snuck closer to the two men to get a better look at the altercation.

"Damn it!" Blond Man shot out through gritted teeth. The smack to his face didn't seem to keep the smart ass part of him from spilling out. With a sharp adjustment to his chin, he righted his head back to look up at Jorge daringly. "I'm sorry, you're going to have to leave my house."

"Looks like you lot had some fun." Newt teased in a quiet manner as Thomas and I sidled up beside him. I took a seat next to Chuck, fighting the urge to nibble on my nails while I eagerly watched the two grown men tussle.

Not with bodies, but with mere words. Each opponent's biting and nipping at his counterpart.

"Listen. I don't enjoy hurting you. Okay?" Jorge flexed his fingers, looming over the red suited man. "Where is the Right Arm, Marcus?"

Marcus? The man we'd been searching for from the beginning? The man with the pathetic pulpy face was Marcus?

"Wait, this is Marcus?" Thomas jumped in, stepping forward with alertness. The pieces were clicking together. He had fooled us.

Marcus chuckled peevishly, his eye oozing with loose fluid.

"The kid catches on quick. Are you the brains of the operation?"

"You lied to us." Dismay left my voice, curling up in my expression. "Yo why'd you have to that Marcus? I thought we were chill."

"People lie Angel, get used to it. Besides, truth hurts- Argh!" The front tuft of Marcus's hair was snatched up by Jorge, forcing his head back.

"Leave the girl be. I know you know where they're hiding." Jorge's tone was soft now, velvety, even more chilling. "So you tell me, and I'll make you a deal. You can come with us."

"I burned that bridge a long time ago." Marcus said after snickering, mocking Jorge. "Besides, I made my own deal. You're the one who taught me, never miss an opportunity." A burst of giggles followed his cryptic jumble of words.

"What's he talking about?" Questioned Newt, he cast his own gaze over at the man, holding it there.

"I'm talking about supply and demand." Marcus began to answer before I interrupted.

"Capitalism?"

"Sure, Sugar." He replied disgruntled, finishing his explanation. I tried my best to mend my mouth close after that. "Wicked wants all the immunes they can get. I help provide that for them. So I lure the kids in... they get drunk, I take an odd girl for my business." My stomach turned, doubling over. Those words stuck out to me. An odd girl. "And then later, Wicked comes in...they separate the wheat from the chaff."

"What business?" I couldn't help but speak up, the answer belonged to me already. I only wished it wasn't true.

"My special business Sweetheart, you could've been a part of it too." Marcus rambled, his smirk crawling across my skin. "You got the perfect look for it too. It's a shame your friends came in and-"

"I changed my mind Hermano." Jorge cut him off sharply, patting Marcus with his gaudy silk handkerchief. "I do enjoy hurting you." He threw his knee up, kicking the chair Marcus sat on and sending him flying back. He landed on the shaggy carpet, maniacal laughter bubbling up from his throat.
Jorge withdrew a gun from his holster, crouching on top of Marcus while he aimed the business side toward him. Seeing the gun made my heart race, pupils dilating at it's every movement. The lab swam circles in my memories. "Talk! Talk!" Jorge shouted his demand, waving the gun around like it was nothing.

"Okay! Okay! Jesus!" Marcus gave in, writhing at the pistol. "But I'm not making any promises. These guys like to move around." Jorge straightened himself as well as Marcus up, satisfied with his spouting of information. "They have an outpost in the mountains. But it's a long way away. You got half of Wicked on your ass. You're never gonna make it." He chuckled to himself at our misfortune.

"Not on foot." Jorge replied, dismantling Marcus's grin. He slapped his hands on his velvet suited shoulders. "Where's Bertha?"

"Not Bertha..."

_______________________

"Shotgun!" Newt cried out, running with that charming half limp. A grin tugged itself on my lips. This was one of the few times I'd ever seen him act childish. That was mostly the reason he gained position of the front passenger seats. Happy Newt was rare to find these days.

Bertha was a beautiful creature. She looked just as Jorge described, a roughed up teal 1985 Chevrolet Suburban. Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

We piled in, one right after the other, cramming Bertha full to the brim. Jorge drove, Newt took passenger seat beside him, taking advantage of his position to dig through the glove box.

Teresa ambled on next, starting the second row of seats. Thomas joined her, cock-blocked by Victor who sat between the two.

Aris, Frypan, and Minho took the last row of seats, leaving Jeff, Brenda, Chuck, and I to fend for ourselves in the way back, swaying to Bertha's every movement in the open trunk. Our limbs tangled together getting in, but after a short while we had situated ourselves comfortably.

I found bags of chips in a hideaway snack horde that Marcus had kept. Tossing a bag around to each person caused a big ruckus, creating laughter and big smiles. Jorge even had to tell us to settle down.

"Hey! If you kids don't shut your traps I'll go on driving strike! I'm serious!" His warning was pointless when he grinned, making us all chatter even more.

Brenda wasn't used to the noise, or frankly the company. She remained quiet alongside me, munching on her chips, slightly hunched over.

"Oh look what I found!" Newt held up a CD, light caught the reflective surface, shining a ball of light in my eye. "It says here, Jorge's mix."

"Hey, hey." Jorge made a grab for the CD, keeping one hand on the wheel. "Let's listen to that later Chico, it's no good."

Too late. Newt had already popped the disc in, spinning the volume up on the dials.

(Play Shoop-By Salt-N-Pepa)

"Ooh how you doin' baby?"

Cackles echoed in the car, the song causing us to curl over in fits of outrageous laughter.

"Damn Baby, that sounds sexy"

I of course knew the song by heart, unlike my amnesia ridden counterparts. Still, the other kids liked the tune all the same.

"Wicked, wicked (oooo) - had to kick it"

I crawled my way over the second seat, making it over to the first row next to Victor. Leaning up to the front, I reached Jorge.

"You have exquisite taste." My eyes were bright and twinkly, cheeks sore from smiling. "Could you open up the sun roof?"

"Of course Mija!" Jorge obliged, the cool air from above signaling the top window open. Perfect. I stood in the car, shoes planted on the seat while the upper portion of my body stuck out of Bertha.

This was the first time I could remember riding in a car. From the way the sun splashed on my skin and breeze rippled through my hair, something told me that I liked it. Very much.

When I was finished stretching my arms out, I collapsed back into the car, landing next to Victor. The freckled boy slung an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close.

"We're free y/n. We're actually free." The corners of his eyes crinkled from his crooked grin. I did something without thinking and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

"We are Vic. We are."

The squeeze between Victor and Thomas was tight so I slid onto the redhead's lap, laughing as I did so. He wrapped his arms around my stomach to keep me secure, settling his chin in my neck.

The members of the car rode the rest of the trip occupied in giggles and bellowing laughter, all through the winding curves, making our way up the mountains. We were happy.

We were free.