The Scorch Trials (The Maze Runner Book 2) (32)
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 …
Brenda
pulled up and turned right, grabbing Thomas’s arm to drag him along. He
stumbled the first few steps, got his feet under him, pushed himself back to
full speed. The angry shouts and catcalls of the Cranks faded a bit.
Then
Brenda turned left. Then right again. After this second turn she flicked off
the flashlight but didn’t slow.
“What’re
you doing?” Thomas asked. He held a hand out in front of him, sure he was going
to smack into a wall at any second.
A
shush was the only response he got. He wondered about how much he was trusting
Brenda. He’d put his life in her hands. But he didn’t see what other options he
had, especially now.
She
pulled up again a few seconds later, stopping completely. They stood in
darkness, catching their breath. The Cranks were distant but still loud enough,
coming closer.
“Okay,”
she whispered. “Right about … here.”
“What?”
he asked.
“Just
follow me into this room. There’s a perfect hiding spot in here—I found it
while exploring once. There’s no way they’ll stumble on it. Come on.”
Her
hand tightened around his, pulled him to the right. He sensed that they were
passing through a narrow door; then Brenda pulled him down to the floor.
“There’s
an old table here,” she said. “Can you feel it?”
She
pushed his hand out until he felt hard, smooth wood.
“Yeah,”
he answered.
“Just
watch your head. We’re gonna crawl under it and then through a small notch in
the wall that leads to a hidden compartment. Who knows what it’s for, but no
way those Cranks’ll find it. Even if they have a light, which I doubt.”
Thomas
had to wonder how they got around without one, but he saved the question for
later—Brenda was already on the move, and he didn’t want to lose her. Staying
close, his fingers brushing her foot, he followed her as she scooted on her
hands and knees under the table and toward the wall. Then they crawled through
a small square opening into the long, narrow compartment. Thomas felt around,
patting the surfaces to get a sense of where he was. The ceiling was only about
two feet off the ground, so he continued to drag himself farther into the
crevice.
Brenda
lay with her back against the far wall of the hideout by the time Thomas
awkwardly got himself in position. They had no choice but to lie stretched out,
on their sides. It was a squeeze, but he fit, facing the same direction she
did, his back pressed against her front. He felt her breath on his neck.
“This
is real comfy,” he whispered.
“Just
be quiet.”
Thomas
scooted up a little so his head could rest against the wall; then he relaxed.
He settled in, taking deep, slow breaths and listening for any sign of the
Cranks.
At
first the silence was so deep it had a buzz to it, a ringing in his ears. But
then came the first traces of Crank noises. Coughing, random shouts, lunatic
giggles. They came closer by the second, and Thomas felt a moment of panic,
worried that they’d been stupid to trap themselves like this. But then he
thought about it. The odds of the Cranks finding the hidden cubbyhole were
slim, especially in the darkness. They’d move on, hopefully going far away.
Maybe even forgetting about him and Brenda altogether. That was better than a
prolonged chase.
And
if worse came to worst, he and Brenda could easily defend themselves through
the tiny opening into the compartment. Maybe.
The
Cranks were close now; Thomas had to fight the urge to hold his breath. All
they needed was for an unexpected gasp for oxygen to give them away. Despite
the darkness, he closed his eyes to concentrate on listening.
The
swishes of shuffling feet. Grunts and heavy breathing. Someone banged on a
wall, a series of deadened thumps against the concrete. Arguments broke out,
frantic exchanges of gibberish. He heard a “This way!” and a “That way!” More
coughing. One of them gagged and spit violently, like he was trying to rid
himself of an organ or two. A woman laughed, so full of madness the sound made
Thomas shudder.
Brenda
found his hand, squeezed it. Once again, Thomas felt a ridiculous surge of
guilt, like he was cheating on Teresa. He couldn’t help that this girl was so
touchy-feely. And what a stupid thing to think when you have—
A
Crank entered the room right outside their compartment. Then another. Thomas
heard their wheezy intakes of breath, the scrapes of their feet against the
floor. Another entered, those footsteps a long slide and thump, long slide and
thump. Thomas thought it might be the first man they’d seen, the only one who’d
spoken to them—the one with the arm and leg shaking and useless.
“Little
booooooy,” the man said, a taunting and creepy call. Definitely him—Thomas
couldn’t forget that voice. “Little girrrrrrrrl. Come out come out make a sound
make a sound. I want your noses.”
“Nothin’
in here,” a woman spat. “Nothin’ but an old table.”
The
creak of wood scraping against the floor sliced through the air, then ended
abruptly.
“Maybe
they’re hiding their noses under it,” the man responded. “Maybe they’re still
attached to their sweet little pretty faces.”
Thomas
shrank back against Brenda when he heard a hand or shoe scruff along the floor
just outside the entrance to their little hiding place. Just a foot or two
away.
“Nothin’
down there!” the woman said again.
Thomas
heard her move away. He realized that his whole body had tensed into a pack of
taut wires; he forced himself to relax, still careful to control his breathing.
More
shuffling of feet. Then a haunting set of whispers, as if the trio had met in
the middle of the room to strategize. Were their minds still sound enough to do
such a thing? Thomas wondered. He strained to hear, to catch any words, but the
harsh puffs of speech remained indecipherable.
“No!”
one of them shouted. A man, but Thomas couldn’t tell if it was the man.
“No! No no no no no no no no.” The words quieted into a murmured stutter.
The
woman cut him off with her own chant. “Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.”
“Shut
up!” the leader said. Definitely the leader. “Shut up shut up shut up!”
Thomas
felt cold inside, though sweat was beading on his skin. He didn’t know if this
exchange had any meaning whatsoever or was just more evidence of madness.
“I’m
leaving,” the woman said, her words broken by a sob. She sounded like a child
left out of a game.
“Me
too, me too.” This from the other man.
“Shut
up shut up shut up shut up!” the leader yelled, this time much louder. “Go away
go away go away!”
The
sudden repetition of words creeped Thomas out. Like some control over language
had snapped in their brains.
Brenda
was squeezing his hand so hard it hurt. Her breath was cool against the sweat
on his neck.
Shuffles
of feet and swishing of clothes outside. Were they leaving?
The
sounds decreased sharply in volume when they entered the hallway, tunnel,
whatever. The other Cranks in their party seemed to have left already. Soon it
became silent all over again. Thomas only heard the faint sounds of his and
Brenda’s breath.
They
waited in the darkness, lying flat on the hard ground, facing the small
doorway, pressed together, sweating. The silence stretched out, turned back
into the buzz of absent sound. Thomas kept listening, knowing they had to be
absolutely sure. As much as he wanted to leave that little compartment, as uncomfortable
as it was, they had to wait.
Several
minutes passed. Several more. Nothing but silence and darkness.
“I
think they’re gone,” Brenda finally whispered. She flicked on her flashlight.
“Hello,
noses!” a hideous voice yelled from the room.
Then
a bloody hand reached through the doorway and grabbed Thomas by the shirt.
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