Текст книги "The Scorch Trials"
Автор книги: James Dashner
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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
The two of them stood there, panting as they caught their breath, a sound like sick dogs.
“Who are you?” Minho called out.
The strangers didn’t respond, didn’t move. Their chests heaved in and out. Thomas observed them from under his makeshift hood-he couldn’t imagine how anyone could run so far and not die of heat exhaustion.
“Who are you?” Minho repeated.
Instead of answering, the two strangers split apart and started walking in a broad circle around the bunched-up Gladers. Their eyes, hidden behind the slits in those odd mummy wrappings, stayed fixed on the boys as they made their way in a wide arc, as if sizing them up for a kill. Thomas felt the tension inside him rise, hated when he could no longer see both of them at once. He turned around and watched as they met back up behind the group and once again faced them, standing still.
“There are a whole lot more of us than there are of you,” Minho said, his voice betraying his frustration. To threaten them so soon seemed desperate. “Start talking. Tell us who you are.”
“We’re Cranks.”
The two words came from the woman, a short burst of guttural annoyance. For no discernible reason she pointed across the Gladers back toward the town from which they’d run.
“Cranks?” Minho said; he had pushed his way through the crowd to be closest to the strangers again. “Just like the ones that tried to break into our building a couple days ago?”
Thomas cringed-these people would have no idea what Minho was talking about. Somehow the Gladers had traveled a long way from wherever that place had been-through the Flat Trans.
“We’re Cranks.” This time from the man, his voice surprisingly lighter and less gruff than the woman’s. But there was no kindness in it. He pointed over the Gladers just like his companion had done. “Came to see if you’re Cranks. Came to see if you’ve got the Flare.”
Minho turned to look at Thomas and then a few others, his eyebrows raised. No one said anything. He turned back. “Some dude told us we had the Flare, yeah. What can you tell us about it?”
“Don’t matter,” the man responded; the strips of cloth wrapped around his face jiggled with every word. “You got it, you’ll know soon enough.”
“Well, what do you bloody want?” Newt asked, stepping up to stand next to Minho. “What’s it matter to you if we’re Cranks or not?”
The woman responded this time, acting as if she hadn’t heard the questions. “How’d you get in the Scorch? Where’d you come from? How’d you get here?”
Thomas was surprised at the… intelligence evident in her words. The Cranks they’d seen back at the dorm had seemed absolutely insane, like animals. These people were aware enough to realize that their group had appeared out of nowhere. Nothing lay in the opposite direction from the town.
Minho leaned over to consult with Newt, then turned and stepped closer to Thomas. “What do we tell these people?”
Thomas had no clue. “I don’t know. The truth? It can’t hurt.”
“The truth?” Minho said sarcastically. “What an idea, Thomas. You’re freaking brilliant, as usual.” He faced the Cranks again. “We were sent here by WICKED. Came out of a hole just a little while that way, from a tunnel. We’re supposed to go one hundred miles to the north, cross the Scorch. Any of that mean a thing to you?”
Once again, it was as if they hadn’t heard a word he’d said.
“Not all Cranks are gone,” the man said. “Not all of them are past the Gone.” He said that last word in a way that made it sound like the name of a place. “Different ones at different levels. Best you learn who to make friends with and who to avoid. Or kill. Better learn right quick if you’re coming our way.”
“What’s your way?” Minho asked. “You came from that town, right? Is that where all these Cranks live? Is there food and water there?”
Thomas felt the same urge as Minho-to ask a million questions. He was half tempted to suggest they capture these two Cranks and make them answer. But for the moment the pair didn’t seem intent on helping at all, and they split again to circle back around to the side of the Gladers closest to the town.
Once they met up in the spot where they’d first spoken, the distant town almost seeming to float between them, the woman said one last thing. “If you don’t have it yet, you’ll have it soon. Same with the other group. The ones that’re supposed to kill you.”
The two strangers then turned around and ran back toward the cluster of buildings on the horizon, leaving Thomas and the other Gladers in stunned silence. Soon, any evidence of the running Cranks was lost in a blur of heat and dust.
“Other group?” someone said. Maybe Frypan. Thomas was in too much of a trance staring at the disappearing Cranks and worrying about the Flare to notice.
“Wonder if they’re talking about my group.” This was definitely Aris. Thomas finally forced himself to snap out of his gaze.
“Group B?” he asked him. “You think they’ve already made it to the town?”
“Hello!” Minho snapped. “Who cares? You’d think the little part about them supposedly killing us would be the attention getter. Maybe this stuff about the Flare?”
Thomas thought of the tattoo on the back of his neck. Those simple words that scared him. “Maybe when she said ‘you’ she didn’t mean all of us.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, pointing down at his menacing mark. “Maybe she meant me specifically. Couldn’t tell where her eyes were looking.”
“How’s she gonna know who you are?” Minho retorted. “Plus, doesn’t matter. If someone tries to kill you, or me, or anyone else, they might as well try to get all of us. Right?”
“You’re so sweet,” Frypan said with a snort. “Go ahead and die with Thomas. I think I’ll sneak away and enjoy living with the guilt.” He cast his special look that meant he was only kidding, but Thomas wondered if a little truth might be hiding in there somewhere.
“Well, what do we do now?” Jack asked. He had Winston’s arm around one of his shoulders, but the former Keeper of the Blood House seemed to have recovered some of his strength. Luckily the sheet covered the hideous parts of his head.
“What do you think?” Newt asked, but then he nodded at Minho.
Minho rolled his eyes. “We keep going, that’s what. Look, we don’t have a choice. If we don’t go to that town, we’re gonna die out here of sunstroke or starvation. If we do go, we’ll have some shelter for a while, maybe even food. Cranks or no Cranks, that’s where we’re going.”
“And Group B?” Thomas asked; he glanced over at Aris. “Or whoever they were talking about. What if they really do wanna kill us? All we have to fight with are our hands.”
Minho flexed his right arm. “If these people are really the girls Aris was hanging out with, I’ll show ’em these guns of mine and they’ll go runnin’.”
Thomas kept pushing. “And if these girls have weapons? Or can fight? Or if it’s not them at all but a bunch of seven-foot-tall grunts who like to eat humans? Or a thousand Cranks?”
“Thomas… no. Everybody.” Minho let out an exasperated sigh. “Would everyone just shut their holes and slim it? No more questions. Unless you have an idea that doesn’t involve absolute certain death, then quit your pipin’ and let’s take the only chance we got. Get it?”
Thomas smiled, though he didn’t know where the impulse came from. Somehow in a few sentences Minho had cheered him up, or at least given him a little hope. They just had to go, to move, to do. That was it.
“That’s better,” Minho said with a satisfied nod. “Anybody else wanna pee their pants and cry for Mommy?”
A few snickers broke out, but no one said anything.
“Good. Newt, you lead up front this time, limp and all. Thomas, you in the back. Jack, get someone else to help with Winston to give you a break. Let’s go.”
And so they did. Aris held the pack this time, and Thomas felt as if he were almost floating along the ground, it felt so good. The only hard part was holding that sheet up, his arm growing weak and rubbery. But on and on they went, sometimes walking, sometimes jogging.
Luckily, the sun seemed to gain weight and drop more quickly the closer it got to the horizon. By Thomas’s wristwatch, the Cranks had only been gone an hour when the sky turned a purplish orange and the intense glare of the sun started to melt away into a more pleasant glow. Not long after that, it disappeared below the horizon altogether, pulling nighttime and stars across the sky like a curtain.
The Gladers kept moving, heading toward the faint twinkle of lights coming from the town. Thomas could almost enjoy it now that he wasn’t holding the pack and they’d put the sheet away.
Finally, when every last trace of dusk had gone, full darkness settled on the land like a black fog.
CHAPTER 19
Soon after dark, Thomas heard a girl screaming.
At first he didn’t know what he was hearing, or if maybe it was just his imagination. With the thumps of dry footsteps, the rustling of the packs, the whispers of conversation between heavy breaths, it was hard to tell. But what had started as almost a buzz inside his head soon became unmistakable. Somewhere ahead of them, maybe all the way in the town but more likely closer, a girl’s screams tore through the night.
The others had obviously noticed it, too, and soon the Gladers quit running. Once everyone caught their breath, it became easier to hear the disturbing sound.
It was almost like a cat. An injured, wailing cat. The kind of noise that made your skin crawl and made you press your hands to your ears and pray it went away. There was something unnatural about it, something that chilled Thomas inside and out. The darkness only added to the creepiness. Whoever the source, she still wasn’t very close, but her shrill screeches bounced along like living echoes, trying to smash their unspeakable sounds against the dirt until they ceased to exist in this world.
“You know what that reminds me of?” Minho asked, his voice a whisper with an edge of fear.
Thomas knew. “Ben. Alby. Me, I guess? Screaming after the Griever sting?”
“You got it.”
“No, no, no,” Frypan moaned. “Don’t tell me we’re gonna have those suckers out here, too. I can’t take it!”
Newt responded, just a couple of feet to the left of Thomas and Aris. “Doubt it. Remember how moist and gooey their skin was? They’d turn into a big dust ball if they rolled around in this stuff.”
“Well,” Thomas said, “if WICKED can create Grievers, they can create plenty of other freaks of nature that might be worse. Hate to say it, but that rat-lookin’ guy said things were finally going to get tough.”
“Once again, Thomas gives us a cheerful pep talk,” Frypan announced; he tried to sound jovial, but it came out more like a spiteful rub.
“Just saying it how it is.”
Frypan huffed. “I know. And how it is sucks big-time.”
“What now?” Thomas asked.
“I think we should take a break,” Minho said. “Fill our little tummies and drink up. Then we should book it for as long as we can stand it while the sun is still down. Maybe get a couple hours’ sleep before dawn.”
“And the psycho screaming lady out there?” Frypan asked.
“Sounds like she’s plenty busy with her own troubles.”
For some reason that statement terrified Thomas. Maybe the others, too, because no one said a word as they slipped the packs off their shoulders, sat down and began eating.
“Man, I wish she’d shut up.” It was about the fifth time Aris had said that as they ran along in the darker-than-dark night. The poor girl, somewhere out there, getting closer all the while, was still crying her fretful, high-pitched wails.
Their meal had been quiet and somber, the talk drifting toward what the Rat Man had said about the Variables and how their responses to them were all that mattered. About creating a “blueprint,” about finding the “killzone” patterns. No one had any answers, of course, only meaningless speculations. It was odd, Thomas thought. They now knew they were being tested somehow, put through WICKED’s trials. In some ways it felt like they should behave differently because of this, and yet they just kept going, fighting, surviving until they could get the promised cure. And that was what they’d keep doing; Thomas was sure of it.
It had taken a while for his legs and joints to loosen up once Minho got everyone moving again. Above them, the moon was a sliver, barely providing any more light than the stars. But you didn’t need to see much to run along flat and barren land. Plus, unless it was his imagination, they were actually starting to reach the lights from the town. He could see that they flickered now, which meant they were probably fires. Which made sense-the odds of having electricity in this wasteland hovered around zero.
He wasn’t sure when it happened exactly, but suddenly the cluster of buildings they were running toward seemed a lot closer. And there were a lot more of them than he or anyone else had thought. Taller, too. Wider. Spread out and organized in rows and in an orderly fashion. For all they knew, the place might’ve once been a major city, devastated by whatever had happened to the area. Could sun flares really inflict that much damage? Or had other things caused it during the aftermath?
Thomas was starting to think they’d actually reach the first buildings sometime the next day.
Even though they didn’t need the cover of their sheet at the moment, Aris still jogged right next to him, and Thomas felt like talking. “Tell me more about your whole Maze thing.”
Aris’s breaths were even; he seemed to be in just as good shape as Thomas. “My whole Maze thing? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve never really told us the details. What was it like for you? How long were you there? How’d you get out?”
Aris answered over the soft crunch, crunch, crunch of their footsteps on the desert ground. “I’ve talked with some of your friends, and it sounds like a lot of it was exactly the same. Just… girls instead of guys. Some of them had been there for two years, the rest had shown up one at a time, once a month. Then came Rachel, then me the next day, in a coma. I barely remember anything, just those last few crazy days after I finally woke up.”
He went on to explain what had happened, and so much of it matched what Thomas and the Gladers had been through, it was just plain bizarre. Almost impossible to believe. Aris came out of his coma, said something about the Ending, the walls quit shutting at night, their Box stopped coming, they figured out the Maze had a code, on and on and on until the escape. Which went down almost the same as the Gladers’ terrifying experience, except less of the girl group died-if they were tough like Teresa, this didn’t surprise Thomas in the least.
In the end, once Aris and his group were in the final chamber, a girl named Beth-who’d disappeared days earlier, just like Gally had-killed Rachel, right before rescuers came in and whisked them away to the gym Aris had mentioned before. Then the rescuers took him to the place where the Gladers had finally discovered him-what had been Teresa’s room.
If that was what had happened. Who knew how things worked anymore, after seeing what could happen at the Cliff and the Flat Trans that had taken them to the tunnel. Not to mention the bricked-up walls and the name change on Aris’s door.
It all gave Thomas a big fat headache.
When he tried to think of Group B and imagine their roles-how he and Aris were basically switched, and how Aris was actually Teresa’s counterpart-it twisted his mind. The fact that Chuck had been killed in the end instead of him… that was the only major difference that stood out in the parallels. Were the setups meant to instigate certain conflicts or provoke reactions for WICKED’s studies?
“It’s all kind of freaky, huh?” Aris asked after letting Thomas digest his story for a while.
“I don’t know what the word for it is. But it blows me away how the two groups went through these trippy parallel experiments. Or tests, trials, whatever they were. I mean, if they’re testing our responses, I guess it makes sense that we were put through the same thing. Weird, though.”
Right when Thomas stopped speaking the girl in the distance let out a shriek even louder than her now-regular cries of pain and he felt a fresh rush of horror.
“I think I know,” Aris said, so quietly Thomas wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly.
“Huh?”
“I think I know. Why there were two groups. Are two groups.”
Thomas looked over at him, could barely see the surprising look of calm on his face. “You do? What then?”
Aris still didn’t seem very winded. “Well, actually I have two ideas. One is I think these people-WICKED, whoever they are-are trying to weed out the best of both groups to use us somehow. Maybe even breed us or something like that.”
“What?” Thomas was so surprised he almost forgot about the screaming. He couldn’t believe anyone would be so sick. “Breed us? Come on.”
“After going through the Maze and what we just saw happen in that tunnel, you think breeding is far-fetched? Give me a break.”
“Good that.” Thomas had to admit that the kid had a point. “Okay, so what was your other theory?” As he asked it Thomas could feel the weariness brought on by the run settling in; his throat felt like someone had poured a glassful of sand down his gullet.
“Kind of the opposite,” Aris responded. “That instead of wanting survivors from both groups, they only want one group to live through to the end. So they’re either weeding out people from the guys and the girls, or an entire group altogether. Either way, it’s the only explanation I can think of.”
Thomas thought about what he’d said for quite some time before responding. “But what about the stuff the Rat Man said? That they’re testing our responses, building some kind of blueprint? Maybe it’s an experiment. Maybe they don’t plan for any of us to survive. Maybe they’re studying our brains and our reactions and our genes and everything else. When it’s all done, we’ll be dead and they’ll have lots of reports to read.”
“Hmm,” Aris grunted, considering. “Possibly. I keep trying to figure out why they had one member of the opposite sex in each group.”
“Maybe to see what kind of fights or problems it would cause. Study people’s reactions-it’s kind of a unique situation.” Thomas almost wanted to laugh. “I love how we’re talking about this-like we’re deciding when we need to stop for a klunk.”
Aris actually did laugh, a dry chuckle that made Thomas feel better-actually made him like the new kid even more. “Man, don’t say that. I’ve had to go for at least an hour.”
It was Thomas’s turn to snicker, and right on cue, like he’d heard Aris calling for it, Minho yelled out for everyone to stop.
“Potty break,” he said with his hands on his hips as he caught his breath. “Bury your klunk and don’t do it too close. We’ll rest for fifteen, then we’ll just walk awhile. I know you shanks can’t keep up with Runners like me and Thomas.”
Thomas tuned out-he didn’t need directions on how to use the bathroom-and turned to get a look at where they’d stopped. He took a deep, full breath, and when he relaxed his eyes caught on something. A dark shadow of a shape a few hundred yards in front of them, but not directly in the path of their journey. A square of darkness against the faint glow of the town up ahead. It stood out so distinctly he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it until now.
“Hey!” he yelled, pointing toward it. “Looks like a little building up there, just a few minutes away, to the right some. You guys see it?”
“Yeah, I see it,” Minho responded, walking up to stand next to him. “Wonder what it is.”
Before Thomas could respond, two things happened almost simultaneously.
First, the haunted screams of the mystery girl stopped, instantly, cut short as if a door had closed on her. Then, stepping out from behind the dark building up ahead, the figure of a girl appeared, long hair flowing from her shadowed head like black silk.
CHAPTER 20
Thomas couldn’t help it. His first instinct was to hope it was her, call out to her. To hope that against all odds she was there, just a few hundred yards away, waiting for him.
Teresa?
Nothing.
Teresa? Teresa!
Nothing. The abscess left when she disappeared was still in his head-like an empty pool. But… it could be her. Might be her. Maybe something had happened to their ability to communicate.
Once the girl had stepped out from behind the building, or more likely from inside the building, she just stood there. Despite being obscured completely by shadow, something about her stance made it obvious she was facing them, staring at them with arms folded.
“You think that’s Teresa?” Newt asked, as if he’d read Thomas’s mind.
Thomas nodded before he knew what he was doing. He quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Didn’t seem so. “No clue,” he finally said.
“You think she was the one screaming?” Frypan asked. “It stopped right when she walked out.”
Minho grunted. “Better bet is she was the one torturing somebody. Probably killed her and put her out of her misery when she saw us coming.” Then for some reason he clapped his hands once. “Okay, then, who wants to go meet this nice young lady?”
How Minho could be so lighthearted at times like this just baffled Thomas. “I’ll do it,” he said, way too loudly. He didn’t want to make it obvious that he hoped it was Teresa.
“I was just kidding, shuck-face,” Minho said. “Let’s all go over there. She could have an army of psycho girl ninjas hiding in that shack of hers.”
“Psycho girl ninjas?” Newt repeated, his voice showing he was surprised, if not annoyed, by Minho’s attitude.
“Yeah. Let’s go.” Minho started walking forward.
Thomas acted on a sudden and unexpected instinct. “No!” He lowered his voice. “No. You guys stay here-I’ll go talk to her. Maybe it’s a trap or something. We’d be idiots to all go over there and fall right into it.”
“And you’re not an idiot for going by yourself?” Minho asked.
“Well, we can’t just walk on by without checking it out. I’ll go. If something happens or gets suspicious, I’ll call for help.”
Minho paused for a long moment. “All right. Go. Our brave little shank.” He whacked Thomas on the back with his open palm and it stung.
“This is bloody stupid,” Newt interrupted, stepping forward. “I’ll go with him.”
“No!” Thomas snapped. “Just… let me do this. Something tells me we need to be careful. If I cry like a baby, come save me.” And before anyone could argue, he took off at a fast walk toward the girl and her building.
He closed the distance quickly. His shoes crunched against the gritty dirt and rocks, breaking the silence. He sniffed the raw smells of the desert mixed with a distant scent of something burning, and as he stared at the silhouette of the girl next to the building, he suddenly knew for sure. Maybe it was the shape of her head or body. Maybe it was her stance, the way she held her folded arms crooked to one side, her hip jutting the other direction. But he knew.
It was her.
It was Teresa.
When he reached a point just a few feet from her, right before the faint light would finally reveal her face, she turned around and went through an open door, disappearing inside the small building. It was a rectangle, a slightly tilted roof tenting in the middle, longways. As far as he could tell, it had no windows. Large black cubes were hanging from the corners-speakers, perhaps. Maybe the sound had been broadcast, been a fake. That would explain why they could hear it from so far away.
The door, a big slab of wood, stood all the way open and rested against the wall. It was even darker inside than out.
Thomas moved. He walked through the door, realizing even as he did so how reckless and stupid it might be. But it was her. No matter what had happened, no matter the explanation for her disappearance and refusal to speak with him through their thoughts, he knew she wouldn’t hurt him. No way.
The air was noticeably cooler inside, almost moist. It felt wonderful. Three steps in, he stopped and listened in the complete darkness. He could hear her breathing.
“Teresa?” he asked aloud, pushing away the temptation to ask for her in his mind again. “Teresa, what’s going on?”
She didn’t respond, but he heard a short intake of breath, followed by a halting sniff, as if she were crying but trying to hide it from him.
“Teresa, please. I don’t know what’s happened or what they did to you, but I’m here now. This is crazy. Just talk to-”
He cut off when a light blazed to life with a quick flare that then dulled to a small flame. His eyes naturally went straight to it, to the hand holding a match. He watched as it dropped, slowly, carefully, to light a candle resting on a small table. When it caught, and the hand flicked the match until it went out, Thomas finally looked up and saw her. Saw that he’d been right after all. But the short and almost overpowering thrill of seeing Teresa alive was soon cut short, replaced by confusion and pain.
She was clean, every part of her. He’d expected her to be filthy like he must be after all this time in the dusty desert. He’d expected her clothes to be ratty and torn. He’d expected greasy hair and a smudged and sunburned face. But instead she wore fresh clothes; her clean hair cascaded to her shoulders. Nothing marred the pale skin of her face or arms. She was more beautiful than he’d ever seen her in the Maze, than any memories he could pull from the murky goop of what he’d recovered after the Changing.
But her eyes sparkled with tears; her lower lip trembled with fear; her hands shook at her sides. He saw recognition in her eyes, saw that she hadn’t forgotten him again, but behind that there was pure and absolute terror.
“Teresa,” he whispered, knotting up inside. “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t respond, but her eyes flickered to the side, then back to him. A couple of tears trickled out, slipping down her cheeks, then falling to the floor. Her lips trembled even more, and her chest lurched with what could only be a stifled sob.
Thomas stepped forward, put his hands out to her.
“No!” she screamed. “Get away from me!”
Thomas stopped-it was like something massive had just slammed him in the gut. He held his hands up. “Okay, okay. Teresa, what…” He didn’t know what to say or ask. Didn’t know what to do. But that terrible feeling of something breaking inside him intensified, threatened to choke him as it swelled in his throat.
He stilled, scared to set her off again. All he could do was lock eyes with her, try to communicate how he felt, beg her to tell him something. Anything.
A very long moment passed in silence. The way her body shook, the way she almost seemed to struggle against something unseen… it reminded him of…
It reminded him of how Gally had been acting, right after they’d escaped from the Glade and he’d entered the room with the woman in the white shirt. Right before everything had gone crazy. Right before he’d killed Chuck.
Thomas had to speak or he’d burst. “Teresa, I’ve thought about you every second since they took you away. You-”
She didn’t let him finish. Rushing forward, she was in front of him in two long strides and reaching out, grabbing his shoulders and pulling herself close to him. Shocked, Thomas wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, embracing her so tightly he suddenly worried she couldn’t breathe. Her hands found the back of his head, then the sides of his face, making him look at her.
And then they were kissing. Something exploded within his chest, burning away the tension and confusion and fear. Burning away the hurt of seconds earlier. For a moment it felt like nothing mattered anymore. Like nothing would matter ever again.
But then she pulled away. She stumbled backward until she hit the wall. The terror returned to her face, possessed it like a demon. And then she spoke, her voice a whisper but laced with urgency.
“Get away from me, Tom,” she said. “All of you need to get… away… from me. Don’t argue. Just leave. Run.” Her neck tensed with the effort to get those last few words out.
Thomas had never hurt so badly. But he shocked himself by what he did next.
He knew her now, remembered her. And he knew that she was telling the truth-something wasn’t right here. Something was terribly wrong-far worse than he’d first imagined. Staying, arguing with her, trying to force her to come with him would be a slap in the face to the incredible amount of willpower it must’ve taken her to break away and warn him. He had to do what she said.
“Teresa,” he said. “I’ll find you.” Tears now welling in his own eyes, he turned from her and ran from the building.
CHAPTER 21
Thomas stumbled away from the now-dark building, squinting through tear-blurred eyes. He went back to the Gladers and refused to answer their questions. Told them they had to go, run, get away as fast as possible. That he’d explain later. That their lives were in danger.
He didn’t wait for them. He didn’t offer to take the pack from Aris. He just started toward the town, sprinting till he finally had to slow down to a manageable pace, blocking the others out, blocking the whole world out. Running away from her was the hardest thing he’d ever done, he had no doubt of it. Showing up at the Glade with his memories wiped, adapting to life there, being trapped in the Maze, fighting Grievers, watching Chuck die-none of it matched what he felt now.
She was there. She’d been in his arms. They’d been together again.
They’d kissed and he’d felt something he would’ve thought impossible.
And now he was running away. Leaving her behind.
Choked sobs burst from him. He groaned, heard the miserable sound of his voice crack. His heart felt a pain that almost made him stop, collapse to the ground and give up. Sorrow consumed him, and more than once he was tempted to go back. But somehow he held true to what she’d ordered him to do, and he held on to the promise he’d made to find her again.
At least she was alive. At least she was alive.
That was what he kept telling himself. That was what kept him running.
She was alive.
His body could only take so much. At some point, maybe two hours after he’d left her, maybe three, he stopped, sure his heart would explode out of his chest if he went one more step. Turning, he looked behind him and he saw shadows moving far in the distance-the other Gladers, way back. Breathing huge gulps of dry air, Thomas knelt, planted his forearms on one knee, then closed his eyes to rest until they caught up.
