The Scorch Trials (The Maze Runner Book 2) (60)
CHAPTER
60
The
lightning exploded all around him with deafening cracks of thunder; plumes of
dirt flew into the air from every direction. Several people screamed—one was
cut off abruptly, a girl. And that burning smell. Overwhelming. The strikes of
electricity subsided as quickly as they had begun. But light continued to flash
in the clouds, and rain started to pour down in sheets.
Thomas
hadn’t moved during that first flurry of lightning. There was no reason to
think he’d be any safer in another spot than where he lay. But after the
onslaught, he scrambled to his feet to look around, see what he could do or
where he could run before it happened again.
The
creature he’d been fighting was dead, half of its body blackened, the other
half gone. Teresa stood over her foe, slamming the butt of her spear down and
smashing the last bulb; its sparks died with a hiss. Minho was on the ground,
but slowly getting to his feet. Newt stood there, breathing in and out, deep heaving
breaths. Frypan doubled over and threw up. Some were lying on the ground;
others—like Brenda and Jorge—still fighting the monsters. Thunder boomed all
around them and lightning glinted in the rain.
Thomas
had to do something. Teresa wasn’t too far away; she stood a couple of steps
from her dead creature, bent over, hands on her knees.
We
have to find shelter! he said in her mind.
How
much time do we have left?
Thomas
squinted at his watch closely. Ten minutes.
We
should get inside the pods . She pointed at the closest one, which still lay
open like a perfectly cut eggshell, its halves surely full of water by this
point.
He
liked the idea. What if we can’t close it?
Got
any better plans?
No. He grabbed her
hand and started running.
We
need to tell the others! she said as they approached the pod.
They’ll
figure it out.
He knew they couldn’t wait—more strikes could hit them at any second. They’d all
be dead by the time he and Teresa tried to communicate with anyone. He had to
trust his friends to save themselves. Knew he could trust them.
They
reached the pod just as several bolts of electricity came zigzagging down from
the sky, striking in blistering explosions all around them. Dirt and rain flew
everywhere; Thomas’s ears rang. He looked inside the left half of the
container, saw nothing but a small pool of dirty water. A horrible smell wafted
up from it.
“Hurry!”
he yelled as he climbed in.
Teresa
followed him. They didn’t need to speak to know what to do next. They both got
on their knees, then leaned forward to grab the far end of the other half—it
had a rubbery lining, easy to grip. Thomas braced his midsection on the lip of
the pod, then pulled up, straining with every bit of strength he had left. The
other half lifted and swung toward them.
Just
as Thomas was repositioning himself to sit, Brenda and Jorge ran up to them.
Thomas felt a rush of relief at seeing them okay.
“Is
there room for us?” Jorge screamed over the noise of the storm.
“Get
in!” Teresa yelled back in answer.
The
two of them slipped over the edge and splashed into the large container, a
tight fit but manageable. Thomas scooted to the far end to give them more room,
holding the cover just barely open—the rain drummed on its outer surface. Once
everyone was settled, he and Teresa ducked their heads and let the pod close
completely. Other than the hollow thrum of the rain and the distant explosions
of lightning and the gasping of breaths, it grew relatively silent. Though
Thomas still heard that same ringing in his ears.
He
could only hope his other friends had made it safely to pods of their own.
“Thanks
for letting us in, muchacho,” Jorge said when everyone seemed to have
caught their breath.
“Of
course,” Thomas replied. The darkness inside the container was absolute, but
Brenda was right next to him, then Jorge, then Teresa on the far end.
Brenda
spoke up. “Thought you might’ve had second thoughts about bringing us along.
Would’ve been a good chance to get rid of us.”
“Please,”
Thomas muttered. He was too tired to care how it sounded. Everyone had almost
died, and they might not be out of the woods yet.
“So
is this our safe haven?” Teresa asked.
Thomas
clicked the little light button on his watch; they had seven minutes till the
time was up. “Right now, I sure hope so. Maybe in a few minutes these shuck
squares of land will spin around and drop us into some nice comfy room where we
can all live happily ever after. Or not.”
Crack!
Thomas
yelped—something had slammed into the top of the pod and made the loudest sound
he’d ever heard, an earsplitting crash. A small hole—just a sliver of gray
light—had appeared in the ceiling of their shelter, beads of water forming and
dropping quickly.
“Had
to be lightning,” Teresa said.
Thomas
rubbed his ears, the ringing worse now. “Couple more of those and well be right
back where we started.” His voice sounded hollow.
Another
check of the watch. Five minutes. The water drip-drip-dripped into the
puddle; that horrible smell lingered; the bells in Thomas’s head lessened.
“This
isn’t quite what I imagined, hermano,” Jorge said. “Thought we’d show up
here and you’d convince the big bosses to take us in. Give us that cure. Didn’t
think we’d be holed up in a stinking bathtub waiting to be electrocuted.”
“How
much longer?” Teresa asked.
Thomas
looked. “Three minutes.”
Outside,
the storm raged, bursts of lightning slamming into the ground, the rain
pounding.
Another
boom and crack shook the pod, widened the split in the ceiling enough that
water began rushing in, splashing all over Brenda and Jorge. Something hissed
and steam seeped in as well, the lightning having heated up the outside
material.
“We’re
not gonna last much longer no matter what happens!” Brenda shouted. “It’s
almost worse sitting here and waiting for it!”
“There’s
only two minutes left!” Thomas yelled back at her. “Just hold on!”
A
sound started up outside. Faint at first, barely discernible over the noises of
the storm. A humming. Deep and low. It grew in volume, seemed to vibrate
Thomas’s whole body.
“What
is that?” Teresa asked.
“No
idea,” Thomas answered. “But based on our day, I’m sure it’s not good. We just
have to last another minute or so.”
The
sound got louder and deeper. Overwhelming the thunder and rain now. The walls
of the pod vibrated. Thomas heard a rushing wind outside, different somehow
from what had been blowing all day. Powerful. Almost … artificial.
“There’s
only thirty seconds left,” Thomas announced, suddenly having a change of heart.
“Maybe you guys are right. Maybe we’re missing something important. I … I think
we should look.”
“What?”
Jorge responded.
“We
need to see what’s making that sound. Come on, help me open this back up.”
“And
if a nice big lightning bolt comes down and fries my butt?”
Thomas
put the palms of his hands on the ceiling. “We gotta take a chance! Come
on—push!”
“He’s
right,” Teresa said, and she braced her hands to help.
Brenda
copied her, and soon Jorge joined them.
“Just
about halfway,” Thomas said. “Ready?”
After
getting a few positive grunts, he said, “One … two … three!”
They
all pushed toward the sky, and their strength ended up being way too much. The
lid flipped up and over and crashed to the ground, leaving the pod fully open.
Rain pummeled them, flying horizontally, captured by a ferocious wind.
Thomas
leaned on the edge of the pod and gaped at what hovered in the air just thirty
feet off the ground, lowering rapidly to land. It was huge and round, with
flickering lights and burning thrusters of blue flame. It was the same ship
that had saved him after he was shot. The Berg.
Thomas
glanced at his watch just in time to see the last second tick down. Looked back
up.
The
Berg touched down on clawlike landing gear and a huge cargo door in its metal
belly began to open.
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