The Scorch Trials (The Maze Runner Book 2) (58)
CHAPTER
58
The
squeal of metal was deafening as the square sections slowly spun on their
axles. Thomas had his hands to his ears, trying to keep the sound out. The
others in the group were doing the same. All around them, scattered evenly and
fully encircling the area in which they stood, patches of desert ground rotated
until they disappeared, each one eventually replaced with a large black square
when it finally settled with a loud clank, one of those bulbous white coffins
resting on top. At least thirty in all.
The
scream of metal rubbing against metal stopped. No one spoke. The wind ripped
across the land, blowing dust and dirt in streams across the rounded
containers. It made a gritty pinging sound. There was so much of it, it blended
into a noise that made Thomas’s spine itch; he had to squint to keep stuff out
of his eyes. Nothing else had moved since the foreign, almost alien objects had
been revealed. There was only that sound and wind and cold and stinging eyes.
Tom?
Teresa
called to him.
Yeah.
You
remember those, right?
Yeah.
You
think Grievers are inside?
Thomas
realized that was exactly what he thought, but he’d also finally accepted that
he could never expect anything. He reasoned it out for a second before he
answered. I don’t know. I mean, the Grievers had really moist bodies—it’d
be hard on them out here . It seemed like a stupid thing to say, but he was
grasping for anything.
Maybe
we’re meant to … get inside them, she said after a pause. Maybe they are
the safe haven, or they’ll transport us somewhere.
Thomas
hated the idea, but thought that maybe she was right. He tore his eyes away
from the large pods and looked for her. She was already walking toward him.
Fortunately, she was alone. He couldn’t handle both her and Brenda right then.
“Hey,”
he said out loud, but the wind seemed to carry the sound away before it even
left his mouth. He started to reach out for her hand but then pulled it back,
almost forgetting how things had changed. She didn’t seem to notice as she
walked over to Minho and Newt and nudged both of them in greeting. They turned
to face her and Thomas moved closer to conference with them.
“So
what do we do?” Minho asked. He gave Teresa an annoyed look like he didn’t want
her to be any part of the decision making.
Newt
answered. “If those things have bloody Grievers in ’em, we best start gettin’
ready to fight the shuck buggers.”
“What’re
you guys talking about?”
Thomas
turned to see Harriet and Sonya—it’d been Harriet who’d spoken. And Brenda
stood right behind them, with Jorge by her side.
“Oh,
great,” Minho muttered. “The two queens of glorious Group B.”
Harriet
just acted like she hadn’t heard. “I’m assuming you all saw those pods back in
your WICKED chamber, too. They had to be where the Grievers charged up or
whatever it was they did.”
“Yeah,”
Newt said. “Gotta be that.”
In
the sky above, thunder crackled and boomed, and those flashes of light grew
brighter. The wind tore at everyone’s clothes and hair and everything smelled
wet but dusty—a strange combination. Thomas checked the time again. “We’ve only
got twenty-five minutes. We’re either gonna be fighting Grievers or we need to
get inside those big coffins at the right time. Maybe they’re the—”
A
sharp hiss cut through the air from all directions. The sound pierced Thomas’s
eardrums and he clamped his hands to the sides of his head again. Movement on
the perimeter surrounding them caught his attention, and he watched carefully
what was happening with the large white pods.
A
line of dark blue light had appeared on one side of each container, then expanded
as the top half of the object began to move upward, opening on hinges like the
lid of a coffin. It made no sound, at least not enough to be heard over the
rushing wind and rumbling thunder. Thomas sensed the Gladers and the others slowly
moving closer together, forming a tighter knot. Everyone was trying to get as
far away from the pods as possible—and soon they were a coiled pack of bodies
encircled by the thirty or so rounded white containers.
The
lids continued moving until they’d all swung open and dropped to the ground.
Something bulky rested inside each vessel. Thomas couldn’t make out much, but
from where he stood he couldn’t see anything like the odd appendages of the
Grievers. Nothing moved, but he knew not to let his guard down.
Teresa?
he
said to her mind. He didn’t dare try talking loudly enough to be heard—but he
had to talk to someone or go nuts.
Yeah?
Someone
should go take a look. See what’s in it . He said it, but he really didn’t want
to be the one to do it.
Let’s
go together,
she said easily.
She
surprised him with her courage. Sometimes you have the worst ideas, he
responded. He’d tried to make it feel sarcastic, but he knew the truth
of it far more than he wanted to admit to himself. He was terrified.
“Thomas!”
Minho called. The wind, still wild, was drowned out by the approaching thunder
and lightning now, cracking and exploding in brilliant displays above them and
on the horizon. The storm was about to fully beat down its fury on them.
“What?”
Thomas yelled back.
“You,
me, and Newt! Let’s go check it out!”
Thomas
was just about to move when something slipped out of one of the pods. A
collective gasp escaped those closest to Thomas, and he turned for a better
look. Things were moving in all the pods, things he couldn’t quite understand at
first. Whatever they were, they were definitely coming out of their oblong
homes. Thomas focused on the pod nearest to him, strained his eyes to discern
what exactly he was about to face.
A
misshapen arm hung over the edge, and its hand dangled a few inches above the
ground. On it were four disfigured fingers—stubs of sickly beige flesh—none of
them the same length. They wiggled and grasped for something that wasn’t there,
as if the creature inside was searching to get a grip to pull itself out. The
arm was covered with wrinkles and lumps, and there was something completely
strange right where what passed for an elbow was located. A perfectly rounded protrusion
or growth, maybe four inches in diameter, glowing bright orange.
It
looked like the thing had a lightbulb glued to its arm.
The
monster continued to emerge. A leg flopped out, its foot a fleshy mass, four
knobs of toes wriggling as much as its fingers. And on the knee, another one of
those impossible orange spheres of light, seemingly growing right out of its
skin.
“What
is that thing?” Minho shouted over the noise of the surging storm.
No
one answered. Thomas was dazed, staring at the creature—mesmerized and
terrified at the same time. He did finally look away long enough to see that
similar monsters were coming out of every pod—all at the same pace—then
returned his attention to the closest one.
It
had somehow gained purchase enough with its right arm and leg to begin pulling
the rest of its body out. Thomas looked on in horror as the abominable thing
flopped and wiggled until it lurched over the edge of the open pod and stumbled
to the ground. Roughly human-shaped, though at least a couple of feet taller
than anyone around Thomas, its body was naked and thick, pockmarked and
wrinkled. Most disturbing were more of those bulbous growths, maybe two dozen
total, spread over the thing’s body and glowing with brilliant orange light.
Several on its chest and back. One on each elbow and knee—the bulb on the right
knee had busted in a flurry of sparks when the creature landed on the
ground—and several sticking out of a big lump of … what had to be a head,
though it didn’t have any eyes, nose, mouth or ears. No hair, either.
The
monster got to its feet, swayed a bit as it balanced, then turned to face the
group of humans. A quick glance around showed that each pod had delivered its
creature, all of them now standing in a circle around the Gladers and Group B.
In
unison, the creatures raised their arms until they pointed toward the sky.
Then, all at once, thin blades shot out of the tips of their stubby fingers,
out of their toes, out of their shoulders. The flashes of lightning in the sky
glittered off their surface, sharp and gleaming silver. Though there was no
sign of any kind of mouth, a deathly, creepy moan emanated from their bodies—it
was a sound Thomas could feel more than hear. And it had to be loud to be heard
over the terrible thunder.
Maybe
Grievers would’ve been better, Teresa said inside Thomas’s mind.
Well,
they’re enough alike that it’s obvious who created these things , he said back,
straining to stay calm.
Minho
turned quickly and faced the crowd of still-gaping people surrounding Thomas.
“There’s about one for each of us! Grab whatever you got for a weapon!”
Almost
as if they’d heard the challenge, the lightbulb creatures started moving,
walking forward. Their first couple of steps were lumbering, but then they
recovered, growing steady and strong and agile. Coming closer with every step.
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