The Scorch Trials (The Maze Runner Book 2) (38)
CHAPTER
38
Thomas
awoke to darkness, and it felt as if he had been put into some type of ancient
torture device, nails slowly driving into his skull from all directions.
He
groaned, a halting, terrible sound that only intensified the pain in his head.
He forced himself silent, tried to reach up to rub—
His
hands wouldn’t move. Something held them down, something sticky pressing
against his wrists. Tape. He tried to kick out with his legs, but they were
bound, too. The effort sent another wave of pain crashing through his head and
body; he went limp, moaning softly. He wondered how long he’d been out.
“Brenda?”
he whispered. No response.
A
light came on.
Bright
and stabbing. He squeezed both eyes shut, then opened one just enough to squint
through. Three people stood in front of him, but their faces were in shadow,
the light source coming from behind.
“Wakey
wakey,” a husky voice said. Someone snickered.
“Want
some more of that fire juice?” This came from a woman. The same person snickered
again.
Thomas
finally grew accustomed to the light and opened his eyes fully. He was in a
wooden chair, wide gray tape tightly securing his wrists to the armrests and
his ankles to the chair legs. Two men and one woman stood in front of him.
Blondie. Tall and Ugly. Ponytail.
“Why
didn’t you just whack me out in the alley?” Thomas asked.
“Whack
you?” Blondie responded. His voice hadn’t seemed husky before; it sounded like
he’d spent the last few hours yelling out on the dance floor. “What do you
think we are, some kind of twentiethcentury mafia clan? If we wanted to whack
you, you’d already be dead, bleeding in the streets.”
“We
don’t want you dead,” Ponytail interrupted. “That would spoil the meat. We like
to eat our victims while they’re still breathing. Eat as much as we can before
they bleed to death. You wouldn’t believe how juicy and … sweet that tastes.”
Tall
and Ugly laughed, but Thomas couldn’t tell whether Ponytail was serious. Either
way, it freaked him out.
“She’s
kidding,” Blondie said. “We’ve only eaten other humans when it’s gotten
completely desperate. Man meat tastes like pig crap.”
Another
burst of giggles from Tall and Ugly. Not snickering, not laughing. Giggling.
Thomas didn’t believe they were serious—he was much more worried about how their
minds seemed … off.
Blondie
smiled for the first time since Thomas had met him. “Joking again. We’re not
quite that Cranked-out yet. But I do bet people don’t taste very good.”
Tall
and Ugly and Ponytail nodded.
Man,
these guys are really starting to lose it. Thomas thought. He heard a
muffled groan to his left and looked over. Brenda was in a corner of the room,
bound just as he was. But her mouth had been taped shut as well, making him
wonder if she’d put up more of a fight before she passed out. It looked like
she was only now waking up, and when she noticed the three Cranks, she shifted
and wiggled in her chair, moaning through the gag. Her eyes lit with fire.
Blondie
pointed at her. His pistol had magically appeared. “Shut up! Shut up or I’ll
splat your brain on the wall!”
Brenda
stopped. Thomas expected her to start whimpering or crying or something. But
she didn’t, and he immediately felt stupid for thinking it. She’d already shown
how tough she was.
Blondie
dropped the gun to his side. “Better. Good God, we should’ve killed her when
she first started screaming up there. And biting.” He looked at his forearm,
where the long arc of a welt shone red.
“She’s
with him,” Ponytail said. “We can’t kill her yet.”
Blondie
pulled a chair from the far wall and took a seat just a few feet in front of
Thomas. The others followed suit, looking relieved, as if they’d been waiting
hours for permission. Blondie rested the gun on his thigh, its business end
pointed straight at Thomas.
“Okay,”
the man said. “We’ve got us quite a lot to talk about. I’m not going through
the normal bullcrap with you, either. If you mess around or refuse to answer or
whatever, I’m gonna shoot you in the leg. Then the other one. Third time, a
bullet goes into your girlfriend’s face. I’m thinking somewhere right between the
eyes. And I bet you can guess what happens the fourth time you piss me off.”
Thomas
nodded. He wanted to think he was tough, think he could stand up to these
Cranks. But common sense won out. He was taped to a chair, no weapons, no
allies, nothing. Though honestly, he didn’t have anything to hide. He’d answer
whatever the guy asked him. Whatever ended up happening, he didn’t want any
bullets in his leg. And he doubted the guy was bluffing.
“First
question,” Blondie said. “Who are you and why is your name on signs all over
this piece of crap city?”
“My
name is Thomas.” As soon as it came out, Blondie scrunched up his face in
anger. Thomas realized his stupid mistake and hurried along. “You already knew
that. Well, how I got here is a really weird story and I doubt you’ll believe
it. But I swear I’m telling the truth.”
“Didn’t
you come on a Berg like the rest of us?” Ponytail asked.
“Berg?”
Thomas didn’t know what that meant, but he just shook his head and went on.
“No. We came out of some underground tunnel about thirty miles or so to the south.
Before that we went through something called a Flat Trans. Before that—”
“Hold
it hold it hold it,” Blondie said, holding up a hand. “A Flat Trans? I’d shoot
you right now, but there’s no way you just made that up.”
Thomas
wrinkled his brow in confusion “Why?”
“You’d
be stupid to try getting away with an obvious lie like that. You came through a
Flat Trans?” The man’s surprise was obvious.
Thomas
glanced at the other Cranks, both of whom had similar looks of shock on their
faces. “Yeah. Why’s that so hard to believe?”
“Do
you have any idea how expensive Flat Transportation is? Before the flares, it
had just been revealed to the public. Only governments and billionaires can
afford to use it.”
Thomas
shrugged. “Well, I know they have a lot of money, and that’s what the guy
called it. A Flat Trans. Kind of a gray wall that tingles like ice when you
walk through it.”
“What
guy?” Ponytail asked.
Thomas
had barely started and already his mind was jumbled. How could you tell a story
like this? “I think he was from WICKED. They’re running us through some kind of
experiment or test. I don’t really know everything. We … had our memories wiped
out. Some of mine came back, but not a whole lot.”
Blondie
didn’t react for a second, just sat there staring at him. Almost through him,
at the wall behind. Finally, he said, “I was a lawyer. Back before the flares
and this disease ruined everything. I know when someone’s lying. I was very,
very good at my job.”
Oddly,
Thomas relaxed. “Then you know I’m not—”
“Yeah,
I know. I wanna hear the whole thing. Start talking.”
Thomas
did. He couldn’t say why, but it seemed okay. His instincts told him these
Cranks were just like everybody else—sent here to live out their last horrible
years succumbing to the Flare. They were just trying to find an advantage, find
a way out, like anybody would. And meeting a guy who had special signs about
him all over the city was an excellent first step. If Thomas had been in their
shoes, he’d probably have been doing the same thing. Without the gun and
bindings, hopefully.
He’d
told most of the story to Brenda just the day before, and related it much the
same way now. The Maze, the escape, the dorms. Being given the mission to cross
the Scorch. He took special care to make it sound very important, stressing the
part about the cure waiting at the end. Since they’d lost the chance to have
Jorge’s help getting through the city, maybe he could start over with these
people. He also expressed his concern over the other Gladers, but when he asked
if they’d seen them—or a big group of girls—the answer was no.
Once
again, he didn’t talk much about Teresa. He just didn’t want to take any
chances of endangering her somehow, though he had no idea how talking about her
might do that. He also lied a bit about Brenda. Well, he never really lied
directly. He just kind of made it sound like she’d been with him from the beginning.
When
he finished, ending at the part where they’d met the three people in front of
him in the alley, he took a deep breath and adjusted himself in the chair. “Can
you please take this tape off me now?”
A
flick of Tall and Ugly’s hand caught his attention and he looked to see that a
very sharp, shiny knife had appeared there. “What do you think?” he asked
Blondie.
“Sure,
why not.” He’d held a stoic face throughout the tale, giving no hint yet as to
whether he believed the story.
Tall
and Ugly shrugged and got to his feet, walked over to Thomas. He was just
leaning over, knife outstretched, when a commotion broke out above. Hard thumps
on the ceiling, followed by a couple of screams. Then it sounded like a hundred
people running. Frantic footsteps, jumping, more thumps. More screams.
“Another
group must’ve found us,” Blondie said, his face suddenly pale. He stood,
motioned for the other two to follow him. A few seconds later they were gone,
vanishing up a set of stairs into the shadows. A door opened and closed. The
chaos above continued.
All
of this combined to scare Thomas nearly out of his wits. He looked over at
Brenda, who sat perfectly still, listening. Her eyes finally met his gaze.
Still gagged, she could only raise her eyebrows.
He
didn’t like their odds being left like this, taped to chairs. There was no way
any of the Cranks he’d met that night had a chance against ones like Mr. Nose.
“What if a bunch of full-gone Cranks are up there?” he asked.
Brenda
mumbled something through the tape.
Thomas
strained every muscle and started jumping his chair in tiny steps toward where
she sat. He’d made it about three feet when the sounds of fighting and rumbling
suddenly stopped. He froze, looked up at the ceiling.
Nothing
for several seconds. Then a set of footsteps, maybe two, shuffling across the
floor above. A loud thump. Another loud thump. Then another. Thomas imagined
bodies being thrown on the ground.
The
door at the top of the stairs opened.
Then
footsteps, hard and heavy, running down. It was all in shadow, and a cold panic
flooded Thomas’s body as he waited to see who came down.
Finally,
someone stepped into the light.
Minho.
Dirty and bloody, burn marks on his face. Knives in both hands. Minho.
“You
guys look comfy,” he said.
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