“Hey,” he said. He wiggled his hands from her grip and grabbed her upper arms, pushed her away. He still couldn’t see anything, but he imagined her there, looking at him. “Don’t you think we need to figure things out?”
“You still haven’t promised me,” she replied.
Thomas wanted to scream, couldn’t believe how strange she was acting. “Fine, I promise. Did Jorge tell you everything?”
“Mostly, I think. Though I’d already guessed it the second he told our group to go on without us and meet at the Tower.”
“Guessed what?”
“That we were going to help you get through the city in exchange for you taking us back to civilization.”
This made Thomas worry. “If you came up with that so quickly, don’t you think some of your friends did, too?”
“Exactly.”
“What do you mean exactly? Sounds like you figured something out.”
She reached out and placed her hands on his chest. “I think that’s what happened. At first I worried it was a group of longer-gone Cranks, but since no one chased us, I think Barkley and a couple of his buddies rigged an explosion at the Underneath entrance, tried to kill us. They know they can get plenty of food somewhere else, and there’re other ways to get down here.”
Thomas still didn’t understand why she was being so touchy with him. “That doesn’t make sense. I mean, kill us? Wouldn’t they want to use us, too? Come with us?”
“No, no, no. Barkley and the others are happy here. I think they’re a little more gone than we are, starting to lose their rational sides. I doubt the idea even occurred to them. I bet they just thought we were all gonna gang up and … eliminate them. That we were making plans down here.”
Thomas let go of her, leaned his head back against the wall. She pressed in again and wrapped her arms around his middle.
“Uh … Brenda?” he asked. Something wasn’t right with this girl.
“Yeah?” she mumbled against his chest.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you think it’s a little weird how you’re acting?”
She laughed, such an unexpected sound that Thomas thought for a second she’d succumbed to the Flare—become a full-blown Crank or something. She pulled away from him, still chuckling.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said through a schoolgirl snicker. “Guess we came from different places, that’s all. Sorry.”
“What do you mean?” He suddenly found himself wishing she’d hug him again.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, her merriment at his expense finally subsiding. “Sorry for being so forward. It’s just … pretty normal where I come from.”
“No … it’s okay. I … I mean, good that. I’m good.” He was glad she couldn’t see his face, because it must’ve burned so red she’d start laughing all over again.
He thought of Teresa then. He thought of Minho and the others. He had to take control. Now.
“Look, you said it yourself,” he said, trying to pump confidence into his voice. “No one chased us. We need to go back.”
“Are you sure?” She had a suspicious tone.
“What do you mean?”
“I could get you through the city. Find enough food to take with us. Why don’t we leave all of them? Make it to this safe haven place on our own?”
Thomas wasn’t going to have this conversation. “If you won’t come back with me, fine. But I’m going.” He put his hand against the wall to guide himself and started walking in the direction from which they’d fled.
“Wait!” she called out, then caught up to him. She grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers, now walking alongside him, hand in hand like old lovers. “I’m sorry. Really. I just … I think it would be easier to make it through with fewer people. I’m not really great friends with any of those Cranks. Not like you and your … Gladers.”
Had he said that word around her? He didn’t remember, but anybody could’ve at some point without his noticing. “I really think as many of us as possible need to make it to the safe haven. Even if we do get past the city, who knows what’ll be next. Maybe then we’ll really want numbers.”
He thought about what he’d just said. Did he really only care about having numbers in the end so they’d have a better chance to be safe? Was he really that detached?
“Okay” was all she said in response. Something had changed in her. She seemed less confident. Less in charge.
Thomas took his hand from her grip, coughing into it as an excuse. He didn’t reach out for her again when he finished.
They didn’t talk for the next few minutes. He followed her, sensing her even though he still couldn’t see. After several turns, a light appeared up ahead, brightening quickly as they approached.
It turned out to be sunlight, pouring down from jagged holes in the roof—the aftermath of the explosion. Massive chunks of rock and twisted pieces of steel and broken pipes blocked the way to where the stairs had been—and it looked like climbing over the wreckage would be dangerous. A haze of dust clouded everything, making the rays of sunshine appear thick and alive, motes dancing like gnats. The air smelled of plaster and something burnt.
They were also blocked from the stash room with all that food, but Brenda found the two backpacks she’d brought out earlier.
“Doesn’t look like anybody’s here,” she said. “They didn’t come back. Jorge and your friends might’ve even gotten back up and outside somehow.”
Thomas didn’t really know what he’d been hoping to find, but at least one piece of good news was obvious. “No bodies, though, right? No one died in the explosion?”
Brenda shrugged. “Cranks could’ve dragged their bodies off. But I doubt it. No point.”
Thomas nodded, as if solidifying her statement, holding on to it. But he had no idea what to do next. Did they go through the tunnels—the Underneath—searching for the other Gladers? Did they go out into the streets? Back to the building where they’d ditched Barkley and the others? Every idea sounded horrible. He looked around, as if the answer would magically present itself.
“We have to go through the Underneath,” Brenda announced after a long moment; she’d probably been contemplating their options just like Thomas. “If the others went up top, then they’ll be long gone by now. Plus, they’ll pull any attention toward themselves and away from us.”
“And if they’re down here we’ll find them, right?” Thomas asked. “These tunnels all come back together eventually, right?”
“Right. Either way, I know Jorge will have them moving toward the other side of the city, toward the mountains. We just have to make it so we can meet up and keep going.”
Thomas looked at Brenda, thinking. Maybe only pretending to think, because he really had no option than to stick with her. She was probably his best—maybe only—bet of accomplishing anything other than a quick and horrible death at the hands of long-gone Cranks. What else could he do?
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”
She smiled, a sweet smile that shone through the grime on her face, and Thomas unexpectedly longed for that moment they’d had in the darkness together. Almost as quickly as his thought formed, though, it was gone. Brenda handed him one of the backpacks, then reached into hers and pulled out a flashlight, clicked it on. The beam shot through the dust as she shone it this way and that, finally aiming it down the long tunnel they’d already been down twice.
“Shall we?” she asked.
“We shall,” Thomas muttered. He still felt sick about his friends, and he wondered if he was doing the right thing sticking with Brenda.
But when she started walking, he followed.
CHAPTER 31
The Underneath was a dank, miserable place. Thomas almost preferred the utter darkness to being able to see what was around him. The walls and floors were dull gray, nothing more than painted concrete, streaks of water trickling down the
sides here and there. They passed a door every few dozen feet, but most of them were locked when he tried them. Dust coated the long-dark light fixtures on the ceiling, at least half of them busted, jagged glass screwed into rusty holes.
All in all, the place had the feel of a haunted tomb. The Underneath was as good a name as any. He wondered what the underground structure had been built for in the first place. Walkways and offices for who knew what kinds of jobs? Paths between buildings on rainy days? Emergency routes? Escape routes for things like massive sun flares and attacks from crazy people?
They didn’t talk much as he followed Brenda through tunnel after tunnel, sometimes turning left at intersections or forks, sometimes turning right. His body quickly consumed any energy provided by his recent binge, and after walking for what felt like several hours he finally convinced her to stop and eat another meal.
“I’m assuming you know where we’re going,” he said to her when they set off again. Everything they passed looked exactly the same to him. Drab and dark. Dusty, where it wasn’t wet. The tunnels were silent but for the distant drops of water and the swishing of their clothes as they walked. Their footsteps, dull thumps on the concrete.
She suddenly stopped and whirled on him, shining the light on her face from below. “Boo,” she whispered.
Thomas jumped, then pushed her away. “Cut that crap,” he yelled. He felt like an idiot—his heart had just about exploded from fright. “Makes you look like a. …”
She let the flashlight fall to her side, but her eyes remained locked on his. “Look like a what?”
“Nothing.”
“A Crank?”
The word cut to Thomas’s heart. He didn’t want to think of her that way. “Well … yeah,” he murmured. “Sorry.”
She turned from him and started walking again, her light shining forward. “I am a Crank, Thomas. Got the Flare, I’m a Crank. You are, too.”
He had to run a few steps to catch up with her. “Yeah, but you’re not full gone yet. And … me neither, right? We’ll get the cure before we go nuts.” The Rat Man had better have been telling the truth.
“Can’t wait. And yeah, by the way. I do know where we’re going. Thanks for checking.”
They kept going, turn after turn, long tunnel after long tunnel. The slow but steady exercise took Thomas’s thoughts off Brenda and made him feel better than he had in days. His mind drifted into a half-daze, thinking about the Maze and his splotchy memories and Teresa. Mostly about Teresa.
Eventually they entered a large room with quite a few exits branching off to the left and right, more than he’d seen previously. It almost seemed like it could be a gathering place joined by tunnels from all the buildings.
“Is this the center of the city or something?” he asked.
Brenda stopped to rest, sitting down on the ground with her back to the wall; Thomas joined her.
“More or less” she answered. “See? Already made it halfway to the other side of the city.”
Thomas liked the sound of that, but he hated to think of the others. Minho, Newt, all the Gladers. Where were they? He felt like such a shuck-face for not looking for them, seeing if they were in trouble. Could they have already made it safely outside of town?
A loud pop startled Thomas, like a glass bulb breaking.
Brenda immediately shone her light back in the direction from which they’d come, but the hallway disappeared in shadow, empty except for a few ugly streaks of water on the walls, black on gray.
“What was that?” Thomas whispered.
“An old light busting, I guess.” Her voice held no concern. She put her flashlight on the ground so it shone on the wall opposite them.
“Why would an old light just spontaneously break?”
“I don’t know. A rat?”
“I haven’t seen any rats. Plus, how would a rat walk on the ceiling?”
She gazed at him, a look of total mocking on her face. “You’re right. It must be a flying rat. We should get the hell out of here.”
A small, nervous laugh escaped before Thomas could stop it. “Hilarious.”
Another pop, this time followed by the tinkle of glass sprinkling on the floor. It had definitely come from behind them—Thomas was sure of it this time. Someone had to be following them. And it couldn’t be the Gladers—it sounded more like people trying to freak them out. Scare them.
Even Brenda couldn’t hide her reaction. Her eyes met his, and they were full of worry.
“Get up,” she whispered.
They both did it together, then quietly secured their packs. Brenda shone the light once again back the way they’d come. Nothing was there.
“Should we check it out?” she asked in a low voice. She was whispering, but in the silence of the tunnel it sounded way too loud—if anyone was close, they could hear every word she and Thomas were saying.
“Check it out?” Thomas thought that was the worst idea he’d heard in a long time. “No, we should get out of here, just like you said.”
“What, you wanna just let whoever it is keep following us? Maybe gather some of his or her buddies to ambush us? Better to take care of it now.”
Thomas grabbed her hand holding the flashlight and made it point to the ground. Then he leaned closer to her so he could whisper in her ear. “It could totally be a trap. There wasn’t any glass on the ground back there—they had to have reached up and broken one of the old lights. Why would someone do that? It has to be someone trying to get us to go back there.”
She countered. “If they have enough people to attack, why would they bait us? That’s stupid. Why not just come in here and get it over with?”
Thomas thought about that. She had a point. “Well, it’s even more stupid to sit here and talk about it all day. What do we do?”
“Let’s just—” She had started to raise the flashlight as she spoke, but cut short her words, her eyes widening in terror.
Thomas whipped his head around to see the cause.
A man stood there, just on the edge of her flashlight’s range.
He was like an apparition—there was something unreal about him. He leaned to the right, his left foot and leg jiggling slightly, like he had a nervous tic. His left arm also twitched, the hand clenching and unclenching. He wore a dark suit that had probably once been nice, though now it was filthy and tattered. Water or something more foul soaked both knees of the pants.
But Thomas took all that in quickly. Most of his attention was drawn to the man’s head. Thomas couldn’t help but stare, mesmerized. It looked like hair had been ripped from his scalp, leaving bloody scabs in its place. His face was pallid and wet, with scars and sores everywhere. One eye was gone, a gummy red mass where it should have been. He also had no nose, and Thomas could actually see traces of the nasal passages in his skull underneath the terribly mangled skin.
And his mouth. Lips drawn back in a snarl, gleaming white teeth exposed, clenched tightly together. His good eye glared, somehow vicious in the way it darted between Brenda and Thomas.
Then the man said something in a wet and gurgly voice that made Thomas shiver. He spoke only a few words, but they were so absurd and out of place that it just made the whole thing that much more horrifying.
“Rose took my nose, I suppose.”
CHAPTER 32
A small cry escaped from deep within Thomas’s chest, and he didn’t know if it was audible or something he just felt inside, imagined. Brenda stood next to him, silent—transfixed, maybe—her light still fixed on the hideous stranger.
The man took a lumbering step toward them, having to wave his one good arm to keep his balance on the one good leg.
“Rose took my nose, I suppose,” he repeated; the bubble of phlegm in his throat made a disgusting crackle. “And it really blows.”
Thomas held his breath, waiting for Brenda to make the first move.
“Get it?” the man said, his snarl trying to morph into a grin. He looked like an animal about to pounce on its
prey. “It really blows. My nose. Taken by Rose. I suppose.” He laughed then, a wet chortle that made Thomas worry he might never sleep in peace again.
“Yeah, I get it,” Brenda said. “That’s some funny stuff.”
Thomas sensed movement and looked over at her. She had pulled a can from her bag, slyly, and now gripped it in her right hand. Before he could wonder whether it was a good idea and whether he should try to stop her, she pulled her arm back and tossed the can at the Crank. Thomas watched it fly, watched it crash into the man’s face.
He let out a shriek that iced Thomas to the core.
And then others appeared. A group of two. Then three. Then four more. Men and women. All dragging themselves out of the darkness to stand behind the first Crank. All just as gone. Just as hideous, consumed fully by the Flare, raging mad and injured head to toe. And, Thomas noticed, all missing their nose.
“That didn’t hurt so bad,” the leading Crank said. “You have a pretty nose. I really want a nose again.” He stopped snarling long enough to lick his lips, then went right back to it. His tongue was a gruesomely scarred purple thing, as if he chewed it when bored. “And so do my friends.”
Fear pushed up and through Thomas’s chest, like toxic gas rejected by his stomach. He now knew better than ever what the Flare did to people. He’d seen it back at the windows of the dormitory—but now he faced it on a more personal level. Right in front of him, with no bars to keep them away. The faces of the Cranks were primitive and animalistic. The lead man took another lurching step, then another.
It was time to go.
Brenda didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. After she pulled out another can and flung it toward the Cranks, Thomas turned around with her and they ran. The psychotic shrill of their pursuers’ cries rose behind them like the battle call of a demon army.
Brenda’s flashlight beam shakily crisscrossed left and right, bouncing as they sprinted straight past the slew of right and left turns. Thomas knew they had an advantage—the Cranks looked half broken, riddled with injury. Surely they wouldn’t be able to keep up. But the thought that even more Cranks might be down here, maybe even waiting for them up ahead …
The Maze Runner Series Complete Collection Page 48
