The Scorch Trials (The Maze Runner Book 2) (31)
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 halfdaze, 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.”
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