Текст книги "The Scorch Trials"
Автор книги: James Dashner
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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
“I said shut up.” She reached down and grabbed him by the shirt, jerked up until he stood once again. She repositioned her hands on the wooden shaft, pointed it at him. “Is your name Thomas?”
He gaped at her. His world was crashing in on him, even though he told himself she’d warned him. Told him that no matter what, he had to trust her. “You know who I-”
She swung the spear even more violently this time, crashing the bladeless end into the side of his head, right on his ear. The pain was twice as bad as the first hit; he cried out, clutching his head. But he didn’t fall this time. “You know who I am!” he screamed.
“I used to, anyway,” she said in a voice that was both soft and disgusted. “Now I’m going to ask you one more time. Is your name Thomas?”
“Yes!” he yelled back at her. “My name is Thomas!”
Teresa nodded, then started to back away from him, the tip of the blade once again aimed at his chest. People got out of her way as she passed the group and rejoined the circle of girls who surrounded them.
“You’re coming with us,” she called out. “Thomas. Come on. Remember, anyone tries something, the arrows fly.”
“No way!” Minho yelled. “You’re not taking him anywhere.”
Teresa acted as if she hadn’t heard him, her eyes riveted to Thomas in that strange squinty-eyed stare. “This isn’t some stupid game. I’m going to start counting. Every time I hit a multiple of five, we’ll kill one of you with an arrow. We’ll do it until Thomas is the only one left, then we’ll take him anyway. It’s up to you.”
For the first time, Thomas noticed that Aris was acting strange. He stood just a few feet to Thomas’s right, and he kept turning in a slow circle, staring at the girls one by one as if he knew them each well. But somehow he kept his mouth shut.
Of course, Thomas thought. If this really was Group B, Aris had been with them. He did know them.
“One!” Teresa shouted.
Thomas wasn’t taking any chances. He walked forward, pushing past people until he reached the open, then went straight toward Teresa. He ignored the comments from Minho and the others. He ignored everything. Eyes on Teresa, trying to show no emotion, he walked until he stood almost nose to nose with her.
It was what he wanted anyway, right? He wanted to be with her. Even if she’d been turned against him somehow. Even if she was being manipulated by WICKED, like Alby and Gally had been. For all he knew, her memory had been wiped again. Didn’t matter. She looked serious, and he couldn’t risk having someone shoot one of his friends with a bow and arrow.
“Fine,” he said. “Take me.”
“I only made it to one.”
“Yeah. I’m really brave that way.”
She hit him with the spear, so hard that he couldn’t help but drop to the ground again. His jaw and head ached like smoldering fire. He spit, saw blood splatter on the dirt.
“Bring the bag,” Teresa said from above.
In his peripheral vision he saw two girls walking toward him, their weapons hidden away somewhere. One of them-a dark-skinned girl with hair cut almost to her scalp-held a large frayed burlap sack. They stopped two feet from him; he got back to his hands and knees, scared to do anything more for fear of getting pummeled again.
“We’re taking him with us!” Teresa yelled. “If anybody follows, I’ll hit him again and we’ll start shooting you. We won’t really bother aiming. Just let the arrows fly any old way they feel like.”
“Teresa!” Minho’s voice. “You catch the Flare that quickly? Your mind’s obviously gone already.”
The butt of the spear smashed into the back of Thomas’s head; he collapsed onto his stomach, black stars swimming in the dirt inches from his face. How could she do this to him?
“Anything else you wanna say?” Teresa asked. After a long moment of silence, she said, “Didn’t think so. Put the bag over him.”
Hands roughly grabbed his shoulder and spun him onto his back-their grip dug into his bullet wound enough to send a deep ache flashing through his upper body for the first time since WICKED had fixed him up.
He moaned. Faces-they didn’t even look angry-hovered over him as two girls held the open end of the sack directly above his head.
“Don’t resist,” the dark-skinned girl said, her face shining with sweat. “Or it’ll just get worse.”
Thomas was perplexed. Her eyes and voice held genuine sympathy for him. But her next words couldn’t have been more different.
“Better just to go along and let us kill you. Doesn’t do you any good to have a lot of pain along the way.”
The bag slipped over his head, and all he could see was ugly brown light.
CHAPTER 45
They shifted him around on the ground till they got the bag slipped entirely over his body. Then they tied the open end at his feet with a rope, knotting it tight and wrapping its ends up and around the rest of him, pinning him inside the bag, cinching another knot just over his head.
Thomas felt the bag going taut; then his head was pulled up. He imagined girls holding either end of this impossibly long rope. Which could only mean one thing-they were going to drag him. He couldn’t take it anymore, started squirming even though he knew what it’d get him.
“Teresa! Don’t do this to me!”
This time a fist hit him right in the stomach, making him howl. He tried to double over, tried to clutch his middle, but couldn’t because of the stupid bag. Nausea swept through him; he fought it, kept his food down.
“Since you obviously don’t care about yourself,” Teresa said, “talk again and we’ll start shooting your friends. That sound good to you?”
Thomas didn’t respond; he heaved a silent sob of agony. Had he really been thinking things were looking up in the world only yesterday? His infection cured and his wound healed, away from the city of Cranks, nothing but a swift and hard hike through the mountains between them and the safe haven. He should’ve known better after everything he’d been through.
“I meant what I said!” Teresa yelled at the Gladers. “There won’t be a warning. Follow us and the arrows start flying.”
Thomas saw her outline as she knelt next to him, heard her knees crunching on the dirt. Then she grabbed him through the material of the bag, put her head against his, her mouth just half an inch from his ear. She started whispering, so faintly he had to strain to hear, concentrating to separate her words from the breeze.
“They’re blocking me from talking to you in our heads. Remember to trust me.”
Thomas, surprised, had to fight to keep his mouth shut.
“What’re you saying to him?” This came from one of the girls holding the rope attached to the bag.
“I’m letting him know just how much I’m enjoying this. How much I’m enjoying my revenge. Do you mind?”
Thomas had never heard such arrogance from her. She was either a really good actress or had started going crazy. Gained a split personality or two.
“Well,” the other girl responded. “Glad you’re having so much fun. But we need to hurry.”
“I know,” Teresa said. She gripped the sides of Thomas’s head even harder, squeezed and shook it. Then she pressed her mouth against the rough material, pushing on his ear. When she spoke, again with that hot whisper, he could feel her hot breath through the weave of the burlap. “Hang in there. It’ll be over soon.”
The words numbed Thomas’s brain; he had no idea what to think. Was she being sarcastic?
She released him and stood back up. “Okay, let’s get out of here. Make sure you hit as many rocks as you can along the way.”
His captors started walking, dragging him along behind them. He felt the rough ground below him as he was dragged across it, the big sack providing absolutely no protection. It hurt. He arched his back, putting all his weight on his feet, letting his shoes bear the brunt of the impacts. But he knew his strength couldn’t hold out forever.
Teresa walked right beside him as they pulled his body along. He could just make her out through the burlap.
Then Minho started yelling, his voice already fading with distance, the sound of being dragged against the dirt making it that much harder to hear. What Thomas did hear, however, gave him little hope. Between garbled unflattering names, Thomas heard the words “we’ll find you” and “time is right” and “weapons.”
Teresa slammed her fist into Thomas’s stomach again, shutting Minho up.
And across the desert they went, Thomas bouncing over the dirt like a sack of old clothes.
Thomas imagined horrible things as they went along. His legs were weakening every second, and he knew he’d have to lower his body to the ground soon. He pictured the bleeding wounds, the permanent scars.
But maybe it wouldn’t matter. They planned on killing him anyway.
Teresa had said to trust her. And even though he had a hard time doing it, he was trying to believe her. Could all the stuff she’d done to him since reappearing with the weapons and Group B really be an act? If it wasn’t, why would she keep whispering to him to trust her?
His mind turned it all over in circles until he couldn’t concentrate anymore. His body was being rubbed raw, and he knew he needed to figure out how to prevent every inch of skin from being scratched off.
The mountains saved him.
When they started going up the steep slope, it obviously became difficult for the girls to drag his body the way they’d done across flat ground. They tried pulling him in quick jerks-slipping and letting him slide several feet back down, then hauling him back up only to let him slip again. Teresa finally said it’d probably be easier to carry him by the shoulders and ankles. And that they should do it in shifts.
An idea hit Thomas then that was so obvious he thought surely he’d missed something. “Why don’t you just let me walk!” he called through the burlap, his voice muffled and cracking from thirst. “I mean, you do have weapons. What am I gonna do?”
Teresa kicked him in the side. “Shut up, Thomas. We’re not idiots. We’re waiting until your Glader buddies can’t see us anymore.”
He’d done his best to stifle his groan when her foot crashed into his rib cage. “Huh? Why?”
“Because that’s what we were told to do. Now shut up!”
“Why’d you tell him that?” one of the other girls whispered harshly.
“What does it matter?” Teresa responded, not even trying to hide what she was saying. “We’re gonna kill him anyway. Who cares if he knows what we were told to do?”
Told to do, Thomas thought. By WICKED.
A different girl spoke up. “Well, I can barely see them now. Once we reach that crevice up there, we’ll be out of sight, and they’ll never find us after that. Even if they do follow.”
“All right, then,” Teresa said. “Let’s just get him that far.”
Hands were soon gripping Thomas on all sides, lifting him into the air. From what he could see through the sack, Teresa and three of her new friends were carrying him. They picked their way through boulders and around dead trees, going up and up and up. He heard their heavy breaths, smelled their sweat, hated them more with each jolting step. Even Teresa. He tried one last time to reach her mind, to salvage his trust in her, but she wasn’t there.
The trudge up the mountain went on for maybe an hour-with stops here and there for girls to switch off carrying duties-and it had been at least twice that long since they’d left the Gladers. The sun was reaching a point where it would become dangerous, the heat stifling. But then they rounded a massive wall, the ground leveling a bit, and entered shade. The cooler air was a relief.
“All right,” Teresa said. “Drop him.”
Without ceremony, they did what she said and he slammed into the ground with a heavy grunt. It knocked the wind out of him, and he lay there gasping for air as they started untying the ropes. By the time he caught his breath, the bag had been taken off.
He blinked, looking up at Teresa and her friends. They all had their weapons pointed at him, which just seemed ridiculous.
From somewhere he found a trace of courage. “You guys must think a lot of me, twenty of you with knives and machetes, me with nothing. I feel so special.”
Teresa reared back with her spear.
“Wait!” Thomas cried, and she stopped. He held his hands up in deference, slowly got to his feet. “Look, I’m not gonna try anything. Just take me wherever we’re going and then I’ll let you kill me like a good boy. I don’t have any shuck thing to live for anyway.”
He looked directly at Teresa when he said this, tried to put as much spite into his words as possible. He still held on to a little hope that somehow this would end up making sense, but either way, after how he’d been treated, he wasn’t in such a hot mood.
“Come on,” Teresa said. “I’m sick of this. Let’s get to the inside of the Pass so we can sleep the day off. Tonight we’ll start heading through.”
The girl with dark skin who’d helped put him in the sack spoke next. “And what about this guy we’ve been hauling around for the last few hours?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll kill him,” Teresa replied. “We’ll kill him just the way they told us to. It’s his punishment for what he did to me.”
CHAPTER 46
Thomas couldn’t figure out what Teresa meant by her last statement. What had he done to her? But his mind went numb as they walked and walked and walked, apparently heading back to Group B’s camp. A steady climb uphill, the effort burning his legs. A sheer cliff to their left kept them in the shade as they hiked, but everything was still red and brown and hot. Dry. Dusty. The girls gave him a few sips of water, but he was sure that every drop evaporated before it hit his stomach.
They reached a large indentation in the east wall just as the noon sun broke out overhead, a golden ball of fire bent on burning them to ashes. The shallow cave went about forty feet into the mountain face; it was obvious that this was their camp, and it looked like they’d been there for a day or two. Blankets strewn about, the remains of a fire, some trash piled on the edge. Only three people were there when they arrived-girls just like the others-which meant they’d felt they needed almost everyone to kidnap Thomas.
With the bows and arrows, the knives and machetes? It seemed almost silly. A few of them would’ve done just as well.
Along the way, Thomas had learned some things. The dark-skinned girl’s name was Harriet, and the one who was always with her, with the reddish blond hair and white, white skin, was named Sonya. Though he couldn’t tell for certain, he guessed that those two had mostly been in charge until Teresa had arrived. They acted with some authority, but always deferred to her in the end.
“Okay,” Teresa said. “Let’s tie him to that ugly tree.” She pointed at the bone-white skeleton of an oak, its roots still clinging to the rocky soil even though it had to have been dead for years and years. “And we might as well feed him so he doesn’t moan and groan all day and keep us awake.”
Laying it on a little thick, isn’t she? Thomas thought. Whatever her true intentions, her words had started to get a little ridiculous. And he couldn’t deny it anymore-he was really starting to hate her, no matter what she’d said in the beginning.
He didn’t fight as they tied his torso to the trunk, leaving his hands free. Once they had him good and secure they gave him a few granola bars and a bottle of water. No one spoke to him or met his gaze. And strangely, if he wasn’t mistaken, he noticed that everyone looked a little guilty. He started eating, and as he did he carefully took in everything around him. His thoughts wandered all over the place as the rest of them began settling in to sleep out the remaining daylight. Something wasn’t right about all this.
Teresa’s display certainly didn’t seem like an act. It never had. Was it possible that she was doing the exact opposite of what she’d told him-making him think he should trust her when her real plan had been and was to With a jolt he remembered the tag outside her door back in the dorm. The Betrayer. He’d completely forgotten about it until that moment. Things started to make more sense.
WICKED was the boss, here. They were the groups’ only hope of surviving. If they’d really told her to kill him, would she do it? To save herself? And what was that line she’d spit out about his having done something to her? Could they even be manipulating her thoughts? Making her not like him anymore?
Then there was his tattoo and the signs in the city. The tattoo had warned him; the signs had told him he was the real leader. The label next to Teresa’s door had been another warning.
Still-he had no weapons and he was tied to a tree. Group B outnumbered him by more than twenty and they all had weapons. Real easy.
Sighing, he finished up his food and felt a little better physically. And though he didn’t quite know how everything added up, he had a new confidence that he was closer to understanding. And that he couldn’t quit.
Harriet and Sonya had pallets laid out nearby; they kept sneaking looks at him as they readied for sleep. Again Thomas noticed those odd expressions of shame or guilt. He saw it as an opportunity to fight for his life with words.
“You guys don’t really wanna kill me, do you?” He asked it in a tone that said he’d caught them in a lie. “Have you ever even killed anyone before?”
Harriet gave him a harsh glare, stopping just before she laid her head down on a wad of blankets. She propped herself up on her elbow. “Based on what Teresa told us, we escaped our Maze three days faster than your group did. Lost fewer people and killed more Grievers to do it. I think knocking off one little insignificant teenage boy won’t be too tough.”
“Think of the guilt you’ll feel.” He could only hope the thought would dig at them.
“We’ll get over it.” She stuck her tongue out at him-actually stuck her tongue out!-then put her head down and closed her eyes.
Sonya sat cross-legged, looking about as far from sleep as humanly possible. “We don’t have a choice. WICKED said that was our only task. If we don’t do it, they won’t let us in at the safe haven. We’ll die out here in the Scorch.”
Thomas shrugged. “Hey, I understand. Sacrifice me to save yourselves. Very noble.”
She stared at him for a long time; he had to fight not to drop his gaze. She finally looked away and lay down with her back to him.
Teresa walked over, her face twisted in annoyance. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” mumbled Harriet. “Tell him to shut up.”
“Shut up,” Teresa said.
Thomas huffed a sarcastic laugh. “What’re you gonna do, kill me if I don’t?”
She didn’t say anything, just kept looking at him, her face blank.
“Why do you hate me all of a sudden?” he asked. “What did I do to you?”
Sonya and Harriet both had turned to listen, looking back and forth between Thomas and Teresa.
“You know what you did,” Teresa finally said. “So does everyone here-I told them all about it. But even still, I wouldn’t have sunk to your level and tried to kill you. We’re only doing that because we have no choice. Sorry. Life’s tough.”
Did something just flash in her eyes? Thomas wondered. What was she trying to tell him? “What are you talking about, sink to my level? I’d never kill a friend to save my own butt. Never.”
“Me neither. Which is why I’m glad we’re not friends.” She started to turn away.
“So what’d I do to you?” Thomas asked quickly. “Sorry, I’m kind of havin’ a memory lapse-ya know, we have those a lot around here. Remind me.”
She twisted back around and glared at him with fiery eyes. “Don’t insult me. Don’t you dare sit there and act like nothing happened. Now shut up or I’ll give you another bruise on that pretty face of yours.”
She stomped away, and Thomas kept silent. He shifted until he was somewhat comfortable, his head leaning back on the dead wood of the tree. Everything about his current situation stank, but he was determined to figure it out and survive.
Eventually he slept.
CHAPTER 47
Thomas slept fitfully for a few hours, tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable position on the hard rock. He finally fell into a deep slumber, and then came the dream.
Thomas is fifteen. He doesn’t know how he knows this. Something to do with the timing of the memory. Is it a memory?
He and Teresa are standing in front of a massive bank of screens, each one showing various images from the Glade and the Maze. Some of the views are moving, and he knows why. These camera shots are coming from beetle blades, and every once in a while they have to change position. When they do, it’s like looking through the eyes of a rat.
“I can’t believe they’re all dead,” Teresa says.
Thomas is confused. Once again he doesn’t quite understand what’s happening. He’s inside this boy who’s supposed to be him, but he doesn’t know what Teresa’s talking about. Obviously not the Gladers-on one screen he can see Minho and Newt walking toward the forest; on another, Gally sitting on a bench. Then Alby yelling at someone Thomas doesn’t recognize.
“We knew it would happen,” he finally responds, not sure why he said it.
“It’s still hard to take.” They aren’t looking at each other, just analyzing the screens. “Now it’s up to us. And the people in the barracks.”
“That’s a good thing,” Thomas says.
“I almost feel as sorry for them as I do for the Gladers. Almost.”
Thomas wonders what this means as his younger dream version clears his throat. “Do you think we’ve learned enough? Do you really think we can pull this off with all the original Creators dead?”
“We have to, Tom.” Teresa steps over to him and grabs his hand. He looks down at her but he can’t read her expression. “Everything’s in place. We have a year to train the replacements and get ready.”
“But it’s not right. How can we ask them to-”
Teresa rolls her eyes and squeezes his hand so hard it hurts. “They know what they’re getting into. No more talking like that.”
“Yeah.” Somehow Thomas knows this version of himself in the vision he’s seeing feels dead inside. His words mean nothing. “All that matters now are the patterns. The killzone. Nothing else.”
Teresa nodded. “No matter how many die or get hurt. If the Variables don’t work, they’ll end up the same anyway. Everyone will.”
“The patterns,” Thomas says.
Teresa squeezes his hand. “The patterns.”
When he woke up, the light dimming to a dull gray as the sun sank to a horizon he couldn’t see, Harriet and Sonya were sitting just a few feet from him. Both staring at him strangely.
“Good evening,” he said with false enthusiasm, the troubling dream still fresh in his mind. “Can I help you ladies?”
“We want to know what you know,” Harriet said quietly.
The lingering fog of sleep quickly vanished. “Why should I help you?” He wanted to sit and think about what he’d dreamed, but he knew something had changed-he could see it in Harriet’s gaze-and he couldn’t pass up the chance to save himself.
“I don’t think you have much choice,” Harriet said. “But if you share whatever you’ve learned or figured out, maybe we can help you.”
Thomas looked around for Teresa but couldn’t see her. “Where is-”
Sonya interrupted him. “She said she wanted to scout the area to see if your friends followed us. Been gone for about an hour.”
In his mind, Thomas could see the Teresa of his dream. Watching those screens, talking about dead Creators and the killzone. Talking about patterns. How did it all fit together?
“Forget how to talk?”
His eyes focused on Sonya. “No, um… does this mean you guys are having second thoughts about killing me?” The words sounded stupid to him, and he wondered how many people in the history of the world had ever asked a question like that.
Harriet smirked. “Don’t go jumping to conclusions. And don’t think we’ve gone all righteous. Let’s just say we have our doubts and want to talk-but your odds are slim.”
Sonya picked up her line of thought. “The smartest thing right now seems to be to do what we were told. There are a lot more of us than you. I mean, come on. If it was your decision, what would you do?”
“Pretty sure I’d choose the option of not killing myself.”
“Don’t be a jerk. This isn’t funny. If you could choose, and the two options were you die or all of us die, which one would you pick? This is all about you or us.”
Her face showed she was very serious, and the question hit Thomas like a thump to his chest. She was right, on some level. If that really would happen-they’d all die if they didn’t get rid of him-then how could he expect them not to do it?
“You gonna answer?” Sonya pushed.
“I’m thinking.” He paused, wiped some sweat off his forehead. Once again, the dream tried to creep to the front of his mind and he had to push it back. “Okay, I’m being honest here. I promise. If I were in your shoes, I’d choose not to kill me.”
Harriet rolled her eyes. “Easy for you to say, since it’s your life on the line.”
“It’s not just that. I think it’s some kind of test and maybe you’re not really supposed to do it.” Thomas’s heartbeat picked up-he really did mean what he said, but he doubted they’d believe him even if he tried to explain it. “Maybe we should share what we know, figure something out.”
Harriet and Sonya exchanged a long look.
Sonya finally nodded; then Harriet said, “We’ve had our doubts about this whole thing from the beginning. Something about it isn’t right. So yeah, you better talk. But let us get everybody over here first.” They stood up to go rouse the others.
“Hurry, then,” Thomas said, wondering if he really did have a chance to get out of this mess. “We better do this before Teresa gets back.”
CHAPTER 48
It didn’t take long for them to gather everyone-Thomas figured the intrigue of hearing what the dead-guy-walking had to say was just too good to pass up. The girls stood in a tight group in front of him; he remained tied to the ugly, lifeless tree.
“All right,” Harriet said. “You talk first, then we will.”
Thomas nodded and cleared his throat. He began talking even though he hadn’t totally planned what to say yet.
“All I know about your group is what I learned from Aris. And it seems like we all went through pretty much the same thing inside the Maze. But since we escaped, lots of things have been different. And I’m not sure what you know about WICKED.”
Sonya cut in. “Not much.”
This encouraged Thomas, made him feel like he had an advantage. And it seemed a big mistake for Sonya to have admitted what she did. “Well, I’ve learned a lot about them. All of us are special in some way-we’re being tested or something because they have plans for us.” He paused then, but no one showed much of a reaction, so he went on.
“A lot of the things they’re doing to us don’t make sense because they’re just part of the trials-what WICKED calls the Variables. Seeing how we react in certain situations. I don’t understand all of it, not even close, but I think this whole thing about killing me is just another layer. Or another lie. So… I think this is just another Variable to see what we’ll all do.”
“In other words,” Harriet said, “you want us to risk our lives because of this brilliant deduction.”
“Don’t you see? Killing me has no point. Maybe it’s a test for you, I don’t know. But I do know that I can help you if I’m alive, not if I’m dead.”
“Or,” Harriet replied, “we’re being tested to see if we have the guts to kill our competitors’ leader. Isn’t that the whole point? See which group succeeds? Weed out the weak and leave the strong?”
“I haven’t even been the leader-Minho has.” Thomas shook his head adamantly. “No, think about this. How are you showing any strength by killing me? I’m way outnumbered and you have all these weapons. How does that prove who’s stronger?”
“Then what does it have to do with?” a girl from the back called out.
Thomas paused, choosing his words carefully. “I think it’s a test to see if you’ll think for yourself, change plans, make rational decisions. And the more of us there are, the better odds we have of making it to the safe haven. Killing me makes no sense, does no one any good. You’ve proven any power you needed to by capturing me. Show them you won’t blindly take it all the way.”
He stopped, relaxed back against the tree. He couldn’t think of anything else. It was up to them now. He’d given it his best shot.
“Interesting stuff,” Sonya said. “Sounds a lot like something a person who’s desperate not to die would say.”
Thomas shrugged. “I really feel like it’s the truth. I think that if you kill me, you’ll have failed the real test WICKED is throwing at you.”
“Yeah, I bet you think that,” Harriet said. She stood up. “Look, to be honest, we’ve been thinking the same types of things. But we wanted to see what you had to say. Sun should be down soon, and I’m sure Teresa will be back any minute. We’ll talk about it when she gets here.”
Thomas spoke up quickly, worried that Teresa wouldn’t be swayed. “No! I mean, she’s the one who seems the most gung ho about killing me.” He said this even though deep down he hoped he didn’t mean it. As badly as she’d treated him, surely she wasn’t serious about taking it all the way to murder. “I think you guys should make the decision.”
“Calm down,” Harriet said, a half-smile on her face. “If we decide not to kill you, there’s nothing she can freaking do about it. But if we…” She stopped, a strange look flashing across her face. Was she worried she’d said too much? “We’ll figure it out.”
Thomas tried not to show his relief. He might have appealed to their pride a little bit, but he tried not to let his hopes get too high.
Thomas watched as the girls gathered their belongings and packed them into backpacks -Where’d they get those? he wondered-readying for the night’s journey, to wherever that might be. Murmurs and whispers of conversation floated through the air as people kept glancing his way, obviously discussing what he’d said.
The darkness grew deeper and deeper, and Teresa finally appeared from the direction they’d come in earlier that day. She noticed right away that something was different, probably by the way everyone kept looking between her and Thomas.
“What?” she asked, the same hard look on her face she’d worn since the day before.
It was Harriet who answered. “We need to talk.”
Teresa looked confused, but went to the far side of the recess in the cliff with the rest of the group. Furious whispers immediately filled the air, but Thomas couldn’t make out a word anybody said. His stomach clenched in anticipation of the verdict.
