The Kill Order (Maze Runner 0.5)

He fired a shot. The quick stream of pure white bolted forward and hit the closest man, who’d just been pulling his arm back, a bloodied hammer gripped in his hand. He transformed quickly into that shimmering flag of gray, then exploded into a cloud of mist, whisked away by an unfelt wind. Alec was already firing another burst at the man next to him. Mark knew they couldn’t win this battle, though Lana had been brave and true and strong since the day they’d met back in the tunnels of the subtrans.

Mark lifted up his own weapon and started firing. He and Alec picked off the attackers one by one: Pull the trigger. On to the next.

Soon the monsters were gone and only the pitiful, wretched form of their friend lay on the ground. Alec didn’t hesitate for a moment. He aimed and shot one more burst from his Transvice.

Lana’s suffering ended in a spray of gray mist.

CHAPTER 56

Mark’s eyes drifted up from the bloody patch on the ground and fixed on Alec. The man had a look on his face that said a thousand things. But laced through it all was a profound sadness. Though Mark never fully understood what kind of relationship the two veterans had shared, it had been deep and full of history.

And now she was gone.

Alec’s expression cleared in a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime to Mark. He’d never seen his friend so sad before.

Suddenly Alec was all business again. He pointed at the house in front of them. “That’s where they dragged her out. And that’s where we’re going in. I’m sure Trina and the kid are in there right now.”

Mark turned to look. A mansion by any account, three stories and all gables and massive windows—many of them broken now—and fancy brickwork. But with a scorched roof and filthy walls and a weed-choked, yellow lawn, it looked ancient. Mark was terrified at what they might find inside it.

And people were gathering around them.

Less than a minute had passed since they’d vaporized their friend and the violent thugs attacking her, but the crowd milling about in the yard and street seemed to have doubled in size. Men and women, children. Most of them marked with bruises and scratches, some with worse. A man with a huge section of his shoulder missing was slowly ambling toward them; it looked like someone had taken an axe to him in a fit of rage. There was a woman with an entire arm gone, the joint a bloody mess. Most disturbing of all, there were a couple of kids with brutal injuries, and they didn’t even seem to know they were hurt.

Without fail, the people started to inch closer, surrounding Mark and Alec. Tattered and grimy clothes, dirty hair, hollow gazes—the crowd’s attention was entirely fixed on the two newcomers.

Alec started walking slowly toward the front door of the large house. Mark mimicked his wary movements, as if any sudden action would trigger the budding insanity in those who watched their every step. They inched closer, weapons held firm. Mark wasn’t taking even the slightest chance anymore. If someone came at him, they were getting shot.

The crowd pulled in tighter around Mark and Alec, gathering like spectators at a parade. There had to be dozens of them now, maybe over a hundred. Then several men broke from the larger group and cut off the path to the front door. As soon as they did it, others followed suit, completely surrounding Mark and Alec now, a tightening noose.

“I don’t know if you people can understand me,” Alec bellowed. “But this is a one-time offer. Get out of our way or we start shooting.”

“We’ve got friends in this house,” Mark added. “And we’re not leaving without them.” He raised his Transvice just for show.

The looks on the faces all around him were changing. That blank indifference was clearing. Eyes were narrowing, foreheads furrowing, lips curling up in slight snarls. A couple of women actually hissed at them, and a kid gnashed his teeth like some wild animal.

“Get out of our way!” Alec yelled.

The crowd surged in a few inches, pressing closer, tightening their circle. Mark felt that familiar break inside of him again, as if he was losing control. A rush of something like hatred burned through him.

“Forget this,” he muttered.

He aimed his Transvice at the closest man between him and the front door and pulled the trigger. A blinding stream of white light shot from the weapon and into the man’s chest, quickly turning him into a wall of gray, then an explosion of particles that disappeared. Mark didn’t hesitate. He immediately aimed at the next man, pulled the trigger, watched him turn to vapor. Next to him was a woman. Three seconds later she was no longer there.

He’d half expected Alec to stop him. But the former soldier wasted no time. The woman had barely disassembled when Alec was firing away as well. They concentrated on clearing a path to the house, slowly sweeping their weapons back and forth as they picked the people off one by one. Flashes of light filled the air as their Transvices heated up, unleashing a wave of destruction. All without a single drop of blood.

They’d eliminated about a dozen people, cutting through half the crowd standing in front of them, when the rest of the infected seemed to finally catch on to what was happening. A violent scream filled the air, a piercing, horrible sound, and suddenly every last person there was charging forward, rushing at the two men with their death-dealing weapons.

Mark moved his weapon left to right, pulling the trigger in short bursts, not even bothering to aim. Streaks of white connected with a few women. One stray shot hit a small boy, vaporized him. Still they barreled toward him at full speed. Mark turned to face the people behind him. He fired again, then gripped the Transvice and swung it up to smash its butt end into a man’s face, sending him sprawling, shrieking in pain.