The Scorch Trials (The Maze Runner Book 2) (36)
CHAPTER
36
Thomas
might’ve gone on looking at the plaque all day if Brenda hadn’t come out of the
truck.
“I
was waiting for the right time to tell you,” she finally said, completely
snapping him out of his daze.
He
jerked his head to look at her. “What? What’re you talking about?”
She
didn’t return his gaze, just kept staring at the sign. “Ever since I found out
what your name was. Same with Jorge. It’s probably why he decided to take his
chances and go with you through the city and to this safe haven of yours.”
“Brenda,
what are you talking about?” Thomas repeated.
She
finally met his eyes. “These signs are all over the city. All of them say the
same thing. Exactly the same thing.”
Thomas
felt a weakening in his knees. He turned around and sank to the ground, resting
his back against the wall. “How … how is this even possible? I mean, it looks
like it’s been there for a while. …” He didn’t really know what else to say.
“Don’t
know,” Brenda answered, joining him on the ground. “None of us knew what it
meant. But when you guys showed up and you told us your name … well, we figured
it wasn’t a coincidence.”
Thomas
gave her a hard stare, anger fighting its way up inside him. “Why didn’t you
tell me about this? You’ll hold my hand, tell me about your dad being killed,
but not this?”
“I
didn’t tell you because I was worried about how you’d react. I figured you’d
probably run off looking for the signs, forget all about me.”
Thomas
sighed. He was sick of all of it. He let the anger go and blew out a long
breath. “I guess it’s just another part of this whole nightmare that makes no
sense.”
Brenda
twisted to look up at the sign. “How could you not know what it means? Could it
be any simpler? You’re supposed to be the leader, take over. I’ll help you, earn
my way in. Earn a spot at the safe haven.”
Thomas
laughed. “Here I am in a city full of whacked-in-the-brain Cranks, there’s a
group of girls who want to kill me, and I’m supposed to worry about who the
real leader of my group is? It’s ridiculous.”
Brenda’s
face wrinkled in confusion. “Girls who want to kill you? What’re you talking
about?”
Thomas
didn’t respond, wondering if he really should tell her the whole story from
beginning to end. Wondering if he had the heart to go over it all again.
“Well?”
she pressed.
Deciding
that it would be nice to get it off his chest, and feeling like she’d gained
his trust, he caved and told her everything. He’d given her hints and small
parts, but now he took the time for details. About the Maze, about being
rescued, about waking up and finding that it had all gone back to crappy. About
Aris and Group B. He didn’t linger on Teresa, but he could tell she noticed
something when he mentioned her. Maybe in his eyes.
“So
do you and this Teresa girl got a little somethin’ going?” she asked when he
was done.
Thomas
didn’t know how to answer. Did they have a little something? They were
close, they were friends, he knew that much. Though he’d only gotten back some
of his memories, he sensed that he and she had maybe even been more than
friends before the Maze. During that awful time when they’d actually helped
design the stupid thing.
And
then there’d been that kiss …
“Tom?”
Brenda asked.
He
looked at her sharply. “Don’t call me that.”
“Huh?”
she asked, obviously startled, maybe even hurt. “Why?”
“Just
… don’t.” He felt terrible for saying it, but couldn’t take it back. That was
what Teresa called him.
“Fine.
Shall I call you Mr. Thomas? Or maybe King Thomas? Or better yet, just Your
Majesty?”
Thomas
sighed. “I’m sorry. Call me whatever.”
Brenda
let out a sarcastic laugh and then they both grew silent.
Thomas
and Brenda sat, backs against the wall, and the minutes stretched on. It was
almost a peaceful quiet until Thomas heard an odd thumping sound that alarmed
him.
“Do
you hear that?” he asked, now fully at attention.
Brenda
had stilled, head cocked to the side as she listened intently. “Yeah. Sounds
like someone bangin’ on a drum.”
“I
guess the fun and games are over.” He stood up, then helped Brenda do the same.
“What do you think it is?”
“Chances
are it’s not good.”
“But
what if it’s our friends?”
The
low bump-bump-bump suddenly seemed to come from everywhere at once, the
echoes bouncing back and forth between the alley walls. But after a long few
seconds, Thomas grew certain the sound was coming from a corner of the dead
end. Despite the risk, he ran in that direction to get a look.
“What’re
you doing!” Brenda snapped at him, but when he ignored her, she followed.
At
the very end of the alley, Thomas reached a wall of cracked and faded bricks,
where four stairs led down to a scratched and worn wooden door. Just above the
door, there was a tiny rectangle of a window, its glass missing. One broken
shard still hung at the top, like a jagged tooth.
Thomas
could hear music playing, much louder now. It was intense and fast, the bass
powerful, drums banging and guitars screaming. Mixed in were the sounds of
people laughing and shouting and singing along. And none of it sounded very …
sane. There was something creepy and disturbing about it.
It
looked like the Cranks didn’t just look for peoples’ noses to bite off, and it
gave Thomas a very bad feeling—this noise had nothing to do with his friends.
“We
better get out of here,” Thomas said.
“Ya
think?” Brenda responded, standing right at his shoulder.
“Come
on.” Thomas turned to go just as she did, but they both froze. Three people had
appeared in the alley while they’d been distracted. Two men and one woman, now
standing only a few feet away.
Thomas’s
stomach dropped as he quickly observed the new arrivals. Their clothes were
tattered, their hair messy, their faces dirty. But when he looked closer he saw
that they didn’t have any noticeable injuries, and their eyes showed glints of
intelligence. Cranks, but not full-gone Cranks.
“Hi
there,” the woman said. She had long red hair pulled into a ponytail. Her shirt
was cut so low that Thomas had to force himself to keep his eyes focused on
hers. “Come to join our party? Lots of dancing. Lots of lovin’. Lots of booze.”
There
was an edge to her voice that made Thomas nervous. He didn’t know what it
meant, but this lady wasn’t being nice. She was mocking them.
“Um,
no thanks,” Thomas said. “We, uh, we were just—”
Brenda
cut in. “Just trying to find our friends. We’re new here, just getting
settled.”
“Welcome
to WICKED’s very own Crankland.” This was one of the men, a tall, ugly guy with
greasy hair. “Don’t worry, most of ’em down there”—he nodded toward the stairs—“are
half gone at worst. You might get an elbow in the face, maybe kicked in the
’nads. But no one’s gonna try to eat you.”
“’Nads?”
Brenda repeated. “Excuse me?”
The
man pointed at Thomas. “I was talkin’ to the boy. Things might get a little
worse for you if you don’t stick close to us. You being female and all.”
This
whole conversation was making Thomas ill. “Sounds like fun. But we gotta go.
Find our friends. Maybe we’ll come back.”
The
other man stepped forward. This one was short but handsome, with blond hair in
a crew cut. “You two are nothin’ but kids. Time you got some lessons on life.
Time you had some fun. We’re officially inviting you to the party.” He
pronounced each word of the last sentence carefully, and with no kindness whatsoever.
“Thanks,
but no thanks,” Brenda said.
Blondie
pulled a gun from a pocket of his long jacket. It was a pistol, silver but
grimy and dull. Still, it looked as menacing and deadly as anything Thomas had
ever seen.
“I
don’t think you understood me,” the man said. “You’re invited to our party.
That’s not something you turn down.”
Tall
and Ugly pulled out a knife. Ponytail pulled out a screwdriver, its tip black
with what had to be old blood.
“What
do you say?” Blondie asked. “Would you like to come to our party?”
Thomas
looked at Brenda, but she didn’t look back. Her eyes were glued to the blond
man, and her face said she was about to do something really stupid.
“Okay,”
Thomas said quickly. “We’ll go. Let’s do it.”
Brenda
snapped her head around. “What?”
“He
has a gun. He has a knife. She’s got a shuck screwdriver! I’m not in the
mood to have an eyeball smashed into my skull.”
“Looks
like your boyfriend’s not stupid,” Blondie said. “Now let’s go have some fun.”
He pointed his pistol at the stairs and smiled. “Feel free to lead the way.”
Brenda
was clearly angry, but her eyes also revealed that she knew they had no other
choice. “Fine.”
Blondie
smiled again; the expression would’ve looked natural on a snake. “That’s the
spirit. Fine and dandy, nothing to worry about.”
“No
one’s gonna hurt you,” Tall and Ugly added. “Unless you get difficult. Unless
you act like brats. By the end of the party, you’ll wanna join our group. Trust
me on that.”
Thomas
had to fight to keep the panic from pounding through him. “Let’s just go,” he
said to Blondie.
“Waiting
on you.” The man pointed at the stairs with his gun again.
Thomas
reached out and grabbed Brenda’s hand, pulled her close to him. “Let’s go to
the party, sweetheart.” He put as much sarcasm into it as he could. “This’ll be
so much fun!”
“That’s
very nice,” Ponytail said. “I get weepy when I see two people in love.” She
feigned wiping tears from her cheeks.
With
Brenda by his side, Thomas turned toward the stairs, aware the whole time of
the gun pointed at his back. They made their way down the steps to the old slab
of a door, the space just wide enough for them to go side by side. When they
reached the bottom, Thomas didn’t see a handle. Raising his eyebrows, he looked
back at Blondie, who stood two steps behind them.
“Gotta
do the special knock,” the man said. “Three slow fist thumps, three fast ones,
then two knuckle taps.”
Thomas
hated these people. He hated the way they spoke so calmly and said mostly nice
words, all of them full of mockery. In a way these Cranks were worse than the
nose-missing guy he’d stabbed the day before—at least with him they’d known
exactly what they were dealing with.
“Do
it,” Brenda whispered.
Thomas
balled his hand into a fist and did the slow fist thumps, then the fast ones.
Then he rapped the wood twice with his knuckles. The door opened immediately,
the pounding music escaping like a blasting wind.
The
guy who greeted them was huge, ears and face pierced several times, tattoos all
over. His hair was long and white, reaching well past his shoulders. But Thomas
barely had time to register this before the man spoke.
“Hey,
Thomas. We’ve been waiting for you.”
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