Текст книги "The Scorch Trials"

Автор книги: James Dashner

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“Tell me about it,” Thomas muttered. “And no, I haven’t forgiven her. But for now I think we’re in the same boat.” He looked around-most people were sitting down, staring off into the distance. Not much conversation, and not a whole lot of mingling between the two groups. “What about you guys? How’d you make it here?”

“Found a gap through the mountains,” Minho answered. “Had to fight through some Cranks camping in a cave, but other than that, no problems. Food and water’s almost out, though. And my feet hurt. And I’m pretty sure another big bolt of shuck lightning’s about to come down and make me look like a piece of Frypan’s bacon.”

“Yeah,” Thomas said. He glanced back at the mountains, guessed that all in all they’d probably come about four miles from the base. “Maybe we should bag this whole safe haven thing and try to find shelter.” But even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t an option. At least not until the time ran out.

“No way,” Newt replied. “We didn’t come this far to go back now. Let’s just hope the buggin’ storm holds off a little longer.” He looked up at the almost black clouds with a grimace.

The other three Gladers had grown silent. The wind had continued to pick up, and its rushing roars and whips now made it hard to hear each other anyway. Thomas looked at his watch.

Thirty-five minutes. No way this storm would hold for “What’s that!” Minho shouted, jumping to his feet; he pointed at a spot over Thomas’s shoulder.

Thomas turned to look as he stood up, alarm igniting inside him. The terror on Minho’s face had been unmistakable.

About thirty feet from the group, a large section of the desert ground was… opening. A perfect square-maybe fifteen feet wide-pivoted on a diagonal axis as the dirt-packed side slowly spun away from them and what had lain underneath rose up to replace it. The sound of groaning, twisting steel pierced the air, louder than the roaring wind. Soon the rotating square had fully flipped, and where once had been desert ground now lay a section of black material, with an odd object sitting on top of it.

It was oblong and white with rounded edges. Thomas had seen something just like it before. Several of them, in fact. After they’d escaped the Maze and entered the huge chamber where the Grievers had come from, they’d seen several of these coffinlike containers. He hadn’t had much time to think about it then, but seeing it now, he thought those must’ve been where the Grievers stayed-slept?-when not hunting humans in the Maze.

Before he had time to react, more sections of the desert floor-surrounding their group in a large circle-started to rotate open like dark, gaping jaws.

Dozens of them.

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.

CHAPTER 59

Teresa handed Thomas a really long knife, almost a sword. He couldn’t imagine where she’d been hiding these things, but she now held a short dagger in addition to her spear.

As the lighted giants stepped closer and closer, Minho and Harriet spoke to their respective groups, moving them around, positioning them, their shouts and commands torn away by the wind before Thomas could hear anything. He dared take his eyes off the approaching monsters long enough to look at the sky. Tendrils of lightning forked and arced across the bottom of the dark clouds, which seemed to hang only a few dozen feet above them. The acrid smell of electricity permeated the air.

Thomas looked back down, concentrated on the creature closest to him. Minho and Harriet had been able to get the groups to stand together in an almost perfect circle, facing outward. Teresa stood next to Thomas, and he would’ve said something to her if he could’ve thought of anything. He was speechless.

WICKED’s latest abominations were only thirty feet away.

Teresa finally elbowed him in the ribs. He looked to see her pointing at one of the creatures, telling Thomas-making sure he knew-that she’d chosen her foe. He nodded, then gestured toward the one he’d been thinking was his all along.

Twenty-five feet away.

Thomas had the sudden thought that it was a mistake to wait for them-that they needed to be spread out more. Minho must’ve had the same idea.

“Now!” their leader yelled, a bare and distant bark because of the storm’s sounds. “Charge them!”

A slew of thoughts spun through Thomas’s mind in that instant. Worry for Teresa, despite the changes between them. Worry for Brenda-standing stoically just a few people down the line from him-and regret over how they had barely spoken since being reunited. He imagined her having come all this way only to be killed by a vicious man-made creature. He thought of the Grievers, and his and Chuck and Teresa’s charge back in the Maze to get to the Cliff and the Hole, the Gladers fighting and dying for them so they could punch in the code and stop it all.

He thought of all they’d gone through to arrive at this point, once again facing a biotech army sent by WICKED. He wondered what it all meant, whether it was worth trying to survive anymore. The image of Chuck taking that knife for him popped into his head. And that did it. Snapped him out of those nanoseconds of frozen doubt and fear. Screaming at the top of his lungs, he wielded his huge knife with both hands above his head and rushed forward, straight for his monster.

To his left and right, the others also charged, but he ignored them. He had to, forced himself to. If he couldn’t take care of his own assignment, worrying about others wouldn’t amount to anything.

He closed in. Fifteen feet. Ten feet. Five. The creature had stopped walking, bracing its legs in a fighting stance, hands outstretched, blades pointing directly at Thomas. Those shining orange lights pulsed now, flaring and receding, flaring and receding, as if the hideous thing actually had a heart somewhere inside. It was disturbing to see no face on the monster, but it helped Thomas think of it as nothing more than a machine. Nothing more than a man-made weapon that wanted him dead.

Right before he reached the creature, Thomas made a decision. He dropped to slide on his knees and shins and swung the swordlike weapon in an arc behind and around him, slamming the blade into the monster’s left leg with a full and powerful two-handed thrust. The knife cut an inch into its skin but then clanked against something hard enough to send a jolt shivering up both of Thomas’s arms.

The creature didn’t move, didn’t retract, didn’t let out any sort of sound, human or inhuman. Instead it swiped downward with both blade-studded hands where Thomas now knelt before it, his sword embedded in the monster’s flesh. Thomas jerked it free and lunged backward just as those blades clattered against each other where his head had been. He fell on his back and scooted away from the creature as it took two steps forward, kicking out with the knives on its feet, barely missing Thomas.

The monster let out a roar this time-a sound almost exactly like the haunted moans of the Grievers-and dropped to the ground, thrashing its arms, trying to impale Thomas. Thomas spun away, rolling three times as he heard metal tips scraping along the dirt-packed ground. He finally took a chance and jumped to his feet, immediately sprinting several yards away before turning around, sword gripped in his hands. The creature was just getting to its own feet, slicing at the air with its stubby bladed fingers.

Thomas sucked in huge gulps of air and could see the others battling in his peripheral vision. Minho jabbing and stabbing with knives in both hands, the monster actually taking steps backward, away from him. Newt scrambling across the ground, the creature he fought lumbering after him, obviously injured. Slowing. Teresa was the closest to him, jumping and dodging and poking her foe with the butt of her spear. Why was she doing that? Her monster seemed to be badly hurt as well.

Thomas pulled his attention back to his own battle. A blur of silver movement made him duck, a wisp of wind in his hair from the swipe of the creature’s arm. Thomas spun, crouched close to the ground, stabbing at anything he could as the monster pursued him, barely missing him with several more attacks. Thomas connected with one of the orange bulb growths, smashing it in a flash of sparks; the light died instantly. Knowing his luck had to be running short, he dove toward the ground, tucking and rolling again until he sprang to his feet a couple of yards away.

The creature had paused-at least as long as it had taken Thomas to make his escape move-but now it came after him again. An idea formed in Thomas’s mind, and it grew to clarity when he looked back at Teresa’s fight, her creature now moving in jilted, slow attacks. She kept after the bulbs, popping them as they exploded in that same display of fireworks. She’d destroyed at least three-fourths of the odd growths.

The bulbs. All he needed to do was destroy the bulbs. Somehow they were linked to the creature’s power or life or strength. Could it really be that easy?

A quick glance around the rest of the battlefield showed that a few others had also gotten the idea, but most hadn’t, fighting with bloody desperation to hack at limbs, muscles, skin, missing the bulbs entirely. A couple of people already lay on the ground, covered in wounds, lifeless. One boy. One girl.

Thomas changed his whole method. Instead of charging recklessly, he jumped in and took a jab at one of the bulbs on the monster’s chest. He missed, slicing into the wrinkled, yellowish skin. The creature swiped at him, but he pulled back just as the very tips of the blades ripped jagged holes in his shirt. Then he thrust again, poking once more at the same bulb. He connected this time, bursting it and sending out a spray of sparks. The creature halted for a full second, then snapped back to battle mode.

Thomas circled the creature, jumping in and back again, poking, jabbing, thrusting.

Pop, pop, pop.

One of the monster’s blades sliced across his forearm, leaving a long line of bright red. Thomas went in again. And again. Again.

Pop, pop, pop. Sparks flying, the creature shuddering and jerking with each break.

The pause got a little bit longer with every successful stab. Thomas felt a few more scrapes and slices, but nothing serious. He kept at it, attacking those orange spheres.

Pop, pop, pop.

Every small victory sapped the creature’s strength, and it gradually began to visibly slump, though it didn’t stop trying to cut Thomas to pieces. Bulb by bulb, each one easier than the one before it, Thomas attacked relentlessly. If only he could quickly finish it off, make it die. Then he could run around and help others. End this thing once and for A blinding light flashed behind him, then a sound like the entire universe exploding ripped away his brief moment of exhilaration and hope. A wave of invisible power knocked him over and he fell flat onto his stomach, the sword clattering away from him. The creature fell, too, and a burnt smell singed the air. Thomas rolled onto his side to look, saw a massive black hole in the ground, charred and smoking. A bladed foot and hand from one of the monsters lay on the hole’s edge. No sign of the rest of the body.

It’d been a lightning strike. Right behind him. The storm had finally broken.

Even as he had the thought, he looked up to see thick shards of white heat start falling from the black clouds above.

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-drip ped 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.

CHAPTER 61

Thomas knew they couldn’t waste any more time. No questions, no fear, no bickering. Only action.

“Come on!” he yelled, pulling Brenda’s arm as he stepped out of the pod. He slipped and toppled over, landing with a wet smush in the mud. He pushed himself up, spitting the slimy stuff out of his mouth and rubbing it from his eyes, and scrambled back to his feet. The rain poured down, thunder cracked from all directions, lightning bolts lit the air in ominous flashes.

Jorge and Teresa had made it out, Brenda helping them. Thomas looked over at the Berg-maybe fifty feet away-its cargo door now fully open, a gaping maw of an entrance to warm light inside. Shadowy forms stood there, holding guns, waiting. They obviously didn’t intend to come out and assist anybody onto the safe haven. The real safe haven.

“Run!” he screamed, already on the move. He held his knife in front of him, gripped tightly, in case any of those creatures were still alive and looking for a fight.

Teresa and the others kept pace next to him.

The rain-softened ground made it hard to get good traction; Thomas slipped twice, fell down once. Teresa grabbed his shirt and yanked until he was up and running again. Others were around them, making the same dash for the safety of the ship. The darkness of the storm and the veil of rain and brilliant flashes of lightning made it hard to see who was who. No time to worry about it.

From the right side, lumbering around the back end of the plane, a dozen of the bulb creatures appeared; they headed for a spot cutting off Thomas and his friends from the open cargo door. Their blades were slick with rain, some stained crimson. At least half of their creepy glowing bulbs had been busted, and their jerky movements showed it. But they looked as dangerous as ever. And still, the people in the Berg did nothing, only watched.

“Go right through ’em!” Thomas yelled. Minho appeared, along with Newt and a few other Gladers, joining the charge. Harriet and a few of the Group B girls, too. Everyone seemed to understand the plan, as slight as it was: fight off these last few monsters and get out of there.