The Scorch Trials (The Maze Runner Book 2) (7)
CHAPTER
7
Thomas
didn’t really have time to process what Newt had said. He was actually trying
to decide whether he was more confused or scared when a clanging bell began
ringing throughout the room. He instinctively put his hands to his ears and
looked around at the others.
He
noticed the perplexed recognition on their faces, and then it hit him. It was
the same sound he’d heard back in the Maze right before Teresa had shown up in
the Box. That was the only time he’d heard it, and trapped within the confines
of a small room it was different—stronger, laced with overlapping echoes.
Still, he was pretty sure it was the same. It was the alarm used in the Glade
to announce that a Newbie had arrived.
And
it wasn’t stopping; Thomas already felt a headache forming behind his eyes.
The
Gladers milled about the room, gawking at the walls and the roof as if they
were trying to figure out the source of the noise. Some of them sat down on the
beds, hands pressed to the sides of their heads. Thomas tried to find the
source of the alarm as well, but couldn’t see anything. No speakers, no heating
or air-conditioning vents in the walls, nothing. Just a sound coming from
everywhere at once.
Newt
grabbed his arm, shouted in his ear. “It’s the bloody Newbie alarm!”
“I
know!”
“Why’s
it ringing?”
Thomas
shrugged, hoping his face didn’t betray how annoyed he was. How was he supposed
to know what was going on?
Minho
and Aris had reappeared from the bathroom, both of them absently rubbing the
backs of their necks as they searched the room for answers. It didn’t take long
for them to realize that the others had similar tattoos. Frypan had walked over
to the door leading back out to the common room and was just about to touch the
palm of his hand to the spot where the broken handle used to be.
“Wait!”
Thomas shouted on impulse. He ran over to join Frypan at the door, sensing Newt
right behind him.
“Why?”
Frypan asked, his hand still hovering just inches from the door.
“I
don’t know,” Thomas replied, not sure if he could even be heard over the
clanging sounds. “It’s an alarm. Maybe something really bad is
happening.”
“Yeah!”
Frypan yelled back. “And maybe we need to get out of here!”
Without
waiting to see what Thomas said, he pushed the door. When it didn’t move, he
pushed harder. When it still didn’t budge, he leaned up against it with his
full weight, shoulder first.
Nothing.
It was closed as tight as if it were bricked shut.
“You
broke the shuck handle!” Frypan screamed, then slapped the door with the palm
of his hand.
Thomas
didn’t want to shout anymore; he was tired and his throat hurt. He turned and
leaned back against the wall, folded his arms. Most of the Gladers seemed as
run-down as Thomas—sick of looking for answers or a way out. All of them were
either sitting on the beds or standing around with blank expressions on their
faces.
Out
of desperation more than anything, Thomas called to Teresa again. Then several
times more. But she didn’t respond, and with all the blaring noise, he didn’t
know if he could have focused enough to hear her anyway. He still felt her
absence; it was like waking up one day with no teeth in your mouth. You wouldn’t
need to run to the mirror to know they were gone.
Then
the alarm stopped.
Never
before had silence seemed to have its own sound. Like a buzzing hive of bees,
it settled on the room with ferocity, making Thomas reach up and wiggle a
finger in each ear. Every breath, every sigh in the room was like an explosion
compared to the bizarre haze of quiet.
Newt
was the first one to speak. “Don’t tell me we’re still gonna get bloody Newbies
thrown in our laps.”
“Where’s
the Box in this shuck place?” Minho muttered sarcastically.
A
slight creak made Thomas look sharply over at the door to the common area. It
had swung open several inches, a slice of darkness marking where it now stood
ajar. Someone had turned off the lights on the other side. Frypan backed up a
step.
“Guessin’
they want us to go out there now,” Minho said.
“Then
why don’t you go first,” Frypan offered.
Minho
had already started moving. “No problem. Maybe we’ll have a new little shank to
pick on and kick in the butt when we got nothin’ else to do.” He made it to the
door, then paused and looked sideways at Thomas. His voice turned surprisingly
soft. “We could use another Chuck.”
Thomas
knew he shouldn’t have been upset. If anything, Minho was trying—in his own
strange way—to show that he missed Chuck just as much as everyone else. But
being reminded of his friend, and at such an odd moment, made Thomas angry.
Instinct told him to ignore it—he was having a hard enough time dealing with
the things going on around him. He needed to separate himself from his feelings
for a while and just move forward. Step by step. Figure it all out.
“Yeah,”
he finally said. “You going through or you need me to go first?”
“What
did your tattoo say?” Minho responded quietly, ignoring Thomas’s question.
“Doesn’t
matter. Let’s go out there.”
Minho
nodded, still not looking directly at him. Then he smiled, and whatever had
been troubling him so deeply appeared to vanish, replaced by his usual
laid-back attitude. “Good that. If some zombie starts eating my leg, save me.”
“Deal.”
Thomas wanted him to hurry and get on with it. He knew they were on the edge of
yet another great change in their ridiculous journey, and he didn’t want to
draw it out any longer.
Minho
pushed open the door. The single bar of blackness became a wide swath of it, the
common area now as dark as it had been when they’d first left the boys’ dorm.
Minho stepped through the doorway, and Thomas followed right on his heels.
“Wait
here,” Minho whispered. “No need playing bumper cars with the dead folks again.
Let me find the light switches first.”
“Why
would they have turned them off?” Thomas asked. “I mean, who turned them
off?”
Minho
looked back at him; the light from Aris’s room spilled across his face,
illuminating the smirk set firmly there. “Why do you even bother asking
questions, dude? Nothing has ever made sense and it probably never will. Now
slim it and sit still.”
Minho
was quickly swallowed by the darkness. Thomas heard his soft footsteps on the
carpet and the swish sound of his hand running along the wall as he
walked.
“Here
they are!” he shouted from the spot that seemed about right to Thomas.
A
few clicks sounded and then lights blazed throughout the room. For the tiniest
fraction of a second, Thomas didn’t realize what was so starkly different about
the place. But then it hit him, and as if that awakened his other senses as
well, he realized that the horrible smell of rotting corpses had vanished.
And
now he knew why.
The
bodies were gone, with no sign that they’d ever been there in the first place.
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