Текст книги "The Scorch Trials"
Автор книги: James Dashner
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But then Jorge brought it all crashing down. “I just have one condition. That ratty kid who junked me on the ground? Think I heard you call him Minho?”
“Yeah?” Thomas asked in a weak voice, his heart thumping all over again.
“He dies.”
CHAPTER 28
“No.”
Thomas said it with every ounce of finality and firmness he could muster.
“No?” Jorge repeated with a look of surprise. “I offer you a chance to make it through a city full of vicious Cranks ready to eat you alive, and you say no? To my one little itsy-bitsy request? That does not make me happy.”
“It wouldn’t be smart,” Thomas said. He had no idea how he was able to maintain his calm expression, where this bravery was coming from. But something told him it was the only way he could survive with this Crank.
Jorge leaned forward again, placed his elbows on the table. But this time he didn’t clasp his hands; instead, he balled them into fists. His knuckles cracked. “Is it your goal in life to piss me off until I cut your arteries open one by one?”
“You saw what he did to you,” Thomas countered. “You know the guts that took. If you kill him, you lose the skills he brings. He’s our best fighter, and he’s not scared of anything. Maybe he’s crazy, but we need him.”
Thomas was trying to sound so practical. Pragmatic. But if there was a person other than Teresa on the planet he could truly call a friend, it was Minho. And he couldn’t handle losing him, too.
“But he made me angry,” Jorge said tightly; his fists had not relaxed in the slightest. “He made me look like a little girl in front of my people. And that’s not… acceptable.”
Thomas shrugged like he didn’t care, like it was a small and meaningless point. “So punish him. Make him look like a little girl. But killing him doesn’t help us. The more bodies we have that can fight, the better our chances. I mean, you live here. Do I really need to tell you this?”
Finally, finally, Jorge loosened his white-knuckled grips. He also let out a breath that Thomas hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Okay,” the Crank said. “Okay. But it has nothing to do with your lame attempt to talk me into it. I’ll spare him because I just made up my mind about something. Because of two reasons, actually. One of which you should have thought of yourself.”
“What?” Thomas didn’t mind his relief showing anymore-the effort to hide things was exhausting him. Plus, he was now too intrigued by what Jorge had to say.
“First off, you don’t really know all the details behind this test or experiment or whatever it is that WICKED is putting you through. Maybe the more of you that make it back-to that safe haven-the better chances you have of getting the cure. Ever thought that this Group B you mentioned are probably your competitors? I think it’s in my best interests to make sure all eleven of you make it now.”
Thomas nodded, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to take the slightest chance of ruining the victory here: Jorge believed him about the Rat Man and the cure.
“Which leads to my second reason,” he continued. “The thing I’ve made up my mind about.”
“And what’s that?” Thomas asked.
“I’m not taking all those Cranks out there with me. With us.”
“Huh? Why? I thought the whole point was that you guys could help us fight our way through the city.”
Jorge adamantly shook his head as he leaned back in his chair and assumed a much less threatening position, folding his arms across his chest. “No. If we’re gonna do this, stealth will work way better than muscle. We’ve been sneaking around this hellhole ever since we got here, and I think our chances of making it through-and getting all the food and supplies we need-are way better if we take what we’ve learned and use it. Tiptoe our way past the long-gone-crazy Cranks instead of slashing through them like a bunch of wannabe warriors.”
“You’re hard to figure out,” Thomas said. “Not to be rude, but it sure seems like warriors are exactly what you guys want to be. Ya know, based on all the ugly outfits and sharp things.”
A long moment of silence passed, and Thomas was just starting to think he’d made a mistake when Jorge burst out laughing.
“Oh, muchacho, you’re one lucky sucker I like you. Not sure why, but I do. Otherwise I would’ve killed you three times already.”
“Can you do that?” Thomas asked.
“Huh?”
“Kill someone three times.”
“I’d figure out a way.”
“Then I’ll try to be nicer.”
Jorge slapped the table and stood up. “Okay. So here’s the deal. We need to get all eleven of you punks to your safe haven. To do it, I’m only taking one other person-her name is Brenda, and she’s a genius. We need her mind. And if we do make it, and it ends up that there’s no cure for us, then I don’t think I need to tell you what the consequences will be.”
“Come on,” Thomas said sarcastically. “I thought we were friends now.”
“Pshh. We ain’t friends, hermano. We’re partners. I’ll deliver you to WICKED. You get me a cure. That’s the deal or there’s gonna be a lot of death.”
Thomas stood as well; his chair creaked against the floor. “We already agreed on that, didn’t we?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we did. Now listen, don’t you dare say a word out there. Getting away from those other Cranks is gonna be… tricky.”
“What’s the plan?”
Jorge thought for a minute, his eyes glued to Thomas as he did. Then he broke his silence. “Just keep your tongue-hole shut and let me do my thing.” He started to move toward the door to the hallway, but stopped short. “Oh, and I don’t think your compadre Minho is going to like it very much.”
As they walked down the hallway to join the others, Thomas realized how achingly hungry he was. The cramps in his stomach had spread to the rest of his body, as if his internal organs and muscles were starting to eat each other.
“All right, everybody listen!” Jorge announced when they reentered the large torn-up room. “Me and the bird-face here have come to a resolution.”
Bird face? Thomas thought.
The Cranks still stood at attention, nasty weapons gripped tightly, glaring at the Gladers, all of whom sat around the edges of the space, backs against the walls. Light beamed through the shattered windows and holes above.
Jorge came to a stop in the middle of the room and slowly turned to address the whole group. Thomas thought he looked ridiculous-like he was trying too hard.
“First, we need to get these people food. I know it seems crazy to share our hard-earned grub with a bunch of strangers, but I think we could use their help. Give ’em the pork and beans-I’m sick of that horse crap anyway.” One of the Cranks snickered, a skinny runt of a kid whose eyes darted back and forth. “Second, being the grand gentleman and saint that I am, I’ve decided not to kill the punk who attacked me.”
Thomas heard a few disappointed groans break out and wondered just how far along some of these people were with the Flare. But one girl, a pretty, older teenager with long hair that was surprisingly clean, rolled her eyes and shook her head as if she thought the noise was idiotic. Thomas found himself hoping she was the Brenda girl Jorge had mentioned.
Jorge pointed at Minho, who, not shockingly to Thomas at all, smiled and waved at the crowd.
“Pretty happy, are you?” Jorge grunted. “That’s good to know. Means you’ll take the news well.”
“What news?” Minho asked sharply.
Thomas glanced over at Jorge, wondering what was about to come out of the guy’s mouth.
The Crank leader spoke matter-of-factly. “After we get you stragglers fed so you don’t go dying of starvation on us, you get to have your punishment for attacking me.”
“Oh yeah?” If Minho was scared, he didn’t show any sign of it. “And what’s that gonna be?”
Jorge just stared back at Minho-a blank expression spread eerily across his face. “You punched me with both of your fists. So we’re gonna cut a finger off each hand.”
CHAPTER 29
Thomas didn’t understand at all how threatening to cut off Minho’s fingers was going to set the groundwork for them escaping from the rest of the Cranks. And he certainly wasn’t stupid enough to trust Jorge after just one brief meeting. He began to panic that things were about to go terribly, horribly wrong.
But then Jorge looked at him, even as his Crank friends started to hoot and holler, and there was something there, in his eyes. Something that put Thomas at ease.
Minho, on the other hand, was a different story. He’d stood up as soon as Jorge had pronounced his punishment, and would’ve charged if the pretty girl hadn’t stepped right up to him and placed her blade under his chin. It drew a drop of blood, bright red in the daylight pouring through the busted doors. He couldn’t even talk without risking serious bodily harm.
“Here’s the plan,” Jorge said calmly. “Brenda and I will escort these moochers to the stash, let ’em eat up. Then we’ll all meet on the Tower, let’s say one hour from now.” He looked at his watch. “Make that noon on the dot. We’ll bring up lunch for the rest of you.”
“Why just you and Brenda?” someone asked. Thomas didn’t see who at first, then realized a man had said it-probably the oldest person in the room. “What if they jump you? There’s eleven of them to two of you.”
Jorge squinted-a scoffing look. “Thanks for the math lesson, Barkley. Next time I forget how many toes I have, I’ll be sure and spend some counting time with you. For now, shut your flappin’ lips and lead everybody to the Tower. If these punks try anything, Brenda will slash Mr. Minho to tiny bits while I beat the living hell out of the rest of ’em. They can barely stand they’re so weak. Now get! ”
Relief swam through Thomas. Once separated from the others, surely Jorge meant to run. Surely he didn’t mean to go through with the punishment.
The man named Barkley was old but looked tough, veined muscles stretching the sleeves of his shirt. He held a nasty dagger in one hand and a big hammer in the other. “Fine,” he said after a long stare down with his leader. “But if they do jump you and slit your throat, we’ll get along just fine without ya.”
“Thanks for the kind words, hermano. Now get, or we’ll have double the fun on the Tower.”
Barkley laughed as if to salvage some dignity, then started off down the same hallway Thomas and Jorge had used. He waved his arm in a “follow me” gesture and soon every last Crank was shuffling after him except Jorge and the pretty girl with the long brown hair. She still had her knife at Minho’s neck, but the good part was that she had to be Brenda.
Once the main group of Flare-infected people left the room, Jorge shared an almost relieved look with Thomas; then he subtly shook his head, as if the others might still be able to hear them.
Movement from Brenda grabbed Thomas’s attention. He looked to see her drop the knife away from Minho and step back, absently wiping the small trace of blood there on her pants. “I really would’ve killed you, ya know,” she said in a slightly scratchy voice. Almost husky. “Charge Jorge again and I’ll sever an artery.”
Minho wiped at his small wound with a thumb, then looked at the bright red smear. “That’s one sharp knife. Makes me like you more.”
Newt and Frypan groaned simultaneously.
“Looks like I’m not the only Crank standing here,” Brenda responded. “You’re even more gone than me.”
“None of us are crazy yet,” Jorge added, walking over to stand next to her. “But it won’t be long. Come on. We need to get over to the stash and put some food in you people. You all look like a bunch of starved zombies.”
Minho didn’t seem to like the idea. “You think I’m just gonna waltz over to have a sit-down with you psychos, then let you cut my freaking fingers off?”
“Just shut up for once,” Thomas snapped, trying to communicate something different with his eyes. “Let’s go eat. I don’t care what happens to your beautiful hands after that.”
Minho squinted in confusion, but seemed to pick up that something was off. “Whatever. Let’s go.”
Brenda stepped in front of Thomas unexpectedly, her face only a few inches from his. She had eyes so dark it made the whites seem to glow brightly. “You the leader?”
Thomas shook his head. “No-it’s the guy you just nipped with your knife.”
Brenda looked over at Minho, then back at Thomas. She grinned. “Well, then that’s stupid. I know I’m on the verge of crazy, but I would’ve picked you. You seem like the leader type.”
“Um, thanks.” Thomas felt a rush of embarrassment, then remembered Minho’s tattoo. Remembered his own, how he was supposed to be killed. He scrambled to say something to hide his sudden mood shift. “I, uh, would’ve picked you, too, instead of Jorge over there.”
The girl leaned forward and kissed Thomas on the cheek. “You’re sweet. I really hope we don’t end up killing you, at least.”
“All right.” Jorge was already motioning everyone toward the broken doors that led outside. “Enough of this lovefest. Brenda, we have a lot to talk about once we get to the stash. Come on, let’s go.”
Brenda didn’t take her eyes off Thomas. As for him, he still felt the tingle that had shot through his entire body when she’d touched him with her lips.
“I like you,” she said.
Thomas swallowed, his mind empty of a comeback. Brenda’s tongue touched the corner of her mouth and she grinned, then finally turned away from him and walked to the doors, slipping her knife into a pants pocket. “Let’s go!” she yelled without looking back.
Thomas knew every single Glader was staring at him, but he refused to make eye contact with any of them. Instead, he hitched up his shirt and walked forward, not caring about the slight smile on his face. Soon the others fell into step behind him, and the group exited the building and emerged into the white heat of the sun beating down on the broken pavement outside.
Brenda led while Jorge took up the rear. Thomas had a hard time adjusting to the brightness, shielding his eyes and squinting as they walked close to the wall to stay in the scant shade. The other buildings and streets around him seemed to shine with unearthly luminescence, as if they were made of some sort of magic stone.
Brenda moved along the walls of the structure they’d just exited until they reached what Thomas thought must be the back. There, a set of steps disappeared into the pavement, reminding him of something in his past life. An entrance to some kind of underground train system, perhaps.
She didn’t hesitate. Without waiting to make sure the others were behind her, she bounced down the stairs. But Thomas noticed that the knife had reappeared in her right hand, gripped tightly and held a few inches from the side of her body-a stealthy attempt at being ready to attack-or defend-on a moment’s notice.
He followed her, eager to get out of the sun and, more importantly, make it to food. His insides ached more strongly for sustenance with every step he took. In fact, he was surprised he could still move; the weakness was like a poisonous growth inside him, replacing his vital parts with a painful cancer.
Darkness swallowed them eventually, welcome and cool. Thomas followed the sound of Brenda’s footsteps until they reached a small doorway, through which shone a glow of orange. She went inside, and Thomas hesitated at the threshold. It was a small, damp room full of boxes and cans, with a single lightbulb hanging from the center of the ceiling. It looked far too cramped for all of them to enter.
Brenda must’ve sensed his thoughts. “You and the others can stay out there in the hallway, find a wall and sit. I’ll start bringing out some tasty delights for you in a sec.”
Thomas nodded even though she wasn’t looking and stumbled back out into the hallway. He collapsed next to a wall down a ways from the rest of the Gladers, deeper into the darkness of the tunnel. And he knew for certain he’d never get back up unless he ate something.
The “tasty delights” ended up being canned beans and some type of sausage-according to Brenda, the words on the label were in Spanish. They ate it cold, but it tasted like the grandest meal ever to Thomas, and he devoured every bite. They’d already learned it wasn’t smart to eat quickly after such a long period of fasting, but he didn’t care. If he threw it all up, he’d just enjoy eating all over again. Hopefully a fresh batch.
After Brenda passed out the food to the starving Gladers, she walked over to sit by Thomas, the soft glow from the room illuminating the thin strands on the fringes of her dark hair. She set down a couple of backpacks-filled with more of the cans-at her side.
“One of these is for you,” she said.
“Thanks.” Thomas had already reached the bottom half of his can, scooping out one bite after another. No one spoke down the hall from them; the only sounds were slurping and swallowing.
“Taste good?” she asked as she dug into her own food.
“Please. I’d push my own mom down the stairs to eat this stuff. If I still have a mom.” He couldn’t help thinking of his dream and the brief glimpse he’d seen of her, but did his best to forget it-it was too depressing.
“You get sick of it fast,” Brenda said, pulling Thomas out of his head. He noticed the way she sat, her right knee pressed against his shin, and his thoughts jumped to the ridiculous idea that she’d moved her leg like that on purpose. “We only have about four or five options.”
Thomas concentrated on clearing his mind, bringing his thoughts back to the present. “Where’d you get the food? And how much is left?”
“Before this area got scorched by the flares, this city had several food manufacturing plants, plus a lot of warehouses to hold the food. Sometimes I think that’s why WICKED sends Cranks here. They can at least tell themselves that we won’t starve while we slowly go crazy and kill each other.”
Thomas scooped out the last bit of sauce from the bottom of his can and licked his spoon clean. “If there’s plenty, why do you only have a few options?” He had the thought that maybe they’d trusted her too quickly, that they could be eating poison. But she was eating the same food, so his worries were probably far-fetched.
Brenda pointed toward the ceiling with her thumb. “We’ve only scoured the closest ones. Some company that specialized, not much variety. I’d kill your mother for something fresh out of a garden. A nice salad.”
“Guess my mom doesn’t have much of a chance if she’s ever standing between us and a grocery store.”
“Guess not.”
She smiled then, though a shadow mostly hid her face. The grin still shone through, and Thomas found himself liking this girl. She’d just drawn blood from his best friend, but he liked her. Maybe, in small part, because of that.
“Does the world still have grocery stores?” he asked. “I mean, what’s it like out there after all this Flare business? Really hot, with a bunch of crazy people running around?”
“No. Well, I don’t know. The sun flares killed a lot of people before they could escape to the north or south. My family lived in northern Canada. My parents were some of the first ones to make it to the camps set up by the coalition between governments. The people who ended up forming WICKED later.”
Thomas stared for a second, his mouth wide open. She’d just revealed more to him about the state of the world in those few sentences than anything he’d heard since having his memory wiped.
“Wait… wait a second,” he said. “I need to hear all this. Can you start from the beginning?”
Brenda shrugged. “Not much to tell-happened a long time ago. The sun flares were completely unexpected and unpredictable, and by the time the scientists tried to warn anyone, it was way too late. They wiped out half the planet, killed everything around the equatorial regions. Changed climates everywhere else. The survivors gathered, some governments combined. Wasn’t too long before they discovered that a nasty virus had been unleashed from some disease-control place. Called it the Flare right from the beginning.”
“Man,” Thomas muttered. He looked down the hall at the other Gladers, wondering if they’d heard any of this, but none of them seemed to be listening, all absorbed in their food. They were probably too far away anyway. “When did-”
She shushed him, holding a hand up. “Wait,” she said. “Something’s wrong. I think we have visitors.”
Thomas hadn’t heard anything, and the other Gladers didn’t seem to notice, either. But Jorge was already at Brenda’s side, whispering something in her ear. She was just moving to stand up when a crash exploded down the hall-from the stairs they’d used to reach the stash. It was a horribly loud sound, the crumple and cracking of a structure falling apart, cement breaking, metal ripping. A cloud of dust fogged its way toward them, choking off the scant light from the food room.
Thomas sat and stared, paralyzed by fear. He could just see Minho and Newt and all the others running back toward the destroyed stairs, then turning down a branching hallway he hadn’t noticed before. Brenda grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him to his feet.
“Run!” she screamed, and started dragging him away from the destruction and deeper into the underground.
Thomas snapped out of his stupor and swatted at her hand, though she didn’t let go. “No! We have to follow my fr-”
Before he could finish, an entire section of the roof came crashing down onto the floor in front of him, blocks of cement falling on top of each other with thunderous cracks. It cut him off from the direction his friends had taken. He heard more fracturing of rock above him and realized that he no longer had any choice-or any time.
Reluctantly he turned and ran with Brenda, her hand still clutching his shirt as they sprinted into the darkness.
CHAPTER 30
Thomas didn’t notice his heart pounding, or have time to contemplate what could possibly have caused the explosion. All he could think about were the other Gladers, now separated from him. Blind, he ran with Brenda-forced to entrust his life to her completely.
“Here!” she yelled. They made a sharp turn to the right; he almost stumbled and fell but she helped him stay on his feet. Once he had a good pace, she finally let go of his shirt. “Stick close to me.”
The sounds of destruction behind them faded as they ran down this new path, and panic lit up inside Thomas. “What about my friends? What if-”
“Just keep going! Better for everyone to split up anyway.”
The air cooled as they moved farther down the long hallway. The darkness deepened. Thomas felt his strength slowly returning and he caught his breath quickly. Behind them, the noises had almost stopped. He worried about the Gladers, but instinct told him it was okay to stay with Brenda-that his friends would be able to fend for themselves if they’d gotten out. But what if some of them had been captured by whoever had set off the explosion? Or killed? And who had attacked them? Concern seemed to bleed his heart dry as they ran along.
Brenda took three more turns; Thomas had no idea how she could know where she was going. He was just about to ask when she stopped, putting a hand to his chest to hold him back.
“You hear anything?” she said through huffs.
Thomas listened, but all he heard was their own breathing. Everything else was silence and darkness. “No,” he told her. “Where are we?”
“A bunch of tunnels and secret passages connect the buildings on this side of town, maybe across the whole city-we haven’t explored that far yet. They call it the Underneath.”
Thomas couldn’t see her face, but she was close enough that he felt and smelled her breath. It didn’t reek, which surprised him, considering her living conditions. It kind of had a nonscent, somehow pleasant.
“The Underneath?” he repeated. “Sounds stupid.”
“Well, I didn’t name it.”
“How much of it have you explored?” He didn’t like the idea of running around down there without knowing what was ahead.
“Not much. We usually run into Cranks. The really bad ones. Way past Gone.”
This made Thomas turn in a circle, searching the darkness for he didn’t know what. His whole body tensed with fear as if he’d just jumped into ice water. “Well… are we safe? What happened with that explosion, anyway? We need to go back and find my friends.”
“What about Jorge?”
“Huh?”
“Shouldn’t we go find Jorge, too?”
Thomas hadn’t meant to offend her. “Yeah, Jorge, my friends, all those shanks. We can’t leave them behind.”
“What’s a shank?”
“Never mind. Just… what do you think happened back there?”
She sighed and stepped even closer to him, pressing her chest against his. He felt her lips brushing his ear as she spoke. “I want you to promise me something.” She said it softly, in barely more than a whisper.
Chills broke out all over Thomas’s body. “Um… what?”
She didn’t pull back, just kept speaking into his ear. “No matter what happens, even if we have to go alone, you’ll take me all the way back. All the way to WICKED, to that cure you promised Jorge-he told me about it in the storage room. I can’t stay here and slowly go insane. I can’t do it. I’d rather die.”
She grabbed both of his hands in hers, squeezed. Then she rested her head on his shoulder, her nose nestled against his neck-she had to be standing on the tips of her toes. Each breath from her sent a new wave of chills across his skin.
Thomas was enjoying her being so close, but it seemed so bizarre and out of the blue. Then he had a surge of guilt, thinking of Teresa. All this was stupid. He was in the middle of a brutal and ruthless attempt to make it across a wasteland, his life on the line, his friends maybe dead. Teresa could even be dead. To sit here and cuddle with some strange girl in the dark was about the most absurd thing he could think of.
“Hey,” he said. He wiggled his hands from her grip and grabbed her upper arms, pushed her away. He still couldn’t see anything, but he imagined her there, looking at him. “Don’t you think we need to figure things out?”
“You still haven’t promised me,” she replied.
Thomas wanted to scream, couldn’t believe how strange she was acting. “Fine, I promise. Did Jorge tell you everything?”
“Mostly, I think. Though I’d already guessed it the second he told our group to go on without us and meet at the Tower.”
“Guessed what?”
“That we were going to help you get through the city in exchange for you taking us back to civilization.”
This made Thomas worry. “If you came up with that so quickly, don’t you think some of your friends did, too?”
“Exactly.”
“What do you mean exactly? Sounds like you figured something out.”
She reached out and placed her hands on his chest. “I think that’s what happened. At first I worried it was a group of longer-gone Cranks, but since no one chased us, I think Barkley and a couple of his buddies rigged an explosion at the Underneath entrance, tried to kill us. They know they can get plenty of food somewhere else, and there’re other ways to get down here.”
Thomas still didn’t understand why she was being so touchy with him. “That doesn’t make sense. I mean, kill us? Wouldn’t they want to use us, too? Come with us?”
“No, no, no. Barkley and the others are happy here. I think they’re a little more gone than we are, starting to lose their rational sides. I doubt the idea even occurred to them. I bet they just thought we were all gonna gang up and… eliminate them. That we were making plans down here.”
Thomas let go of her, leaned his head back against the wall. She pressed in again and wrapped her arms around his middle.
“Uh… Brenda?” he asked. Something wasn’t right with this girl.
“Yeah?” she mumbled against his chest.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you think it’s a little weird how you’re acting?”
She laughed, such an unexpected sound that Thomas thought for a second she’d succumbed to the Flare-become a full-blown Crank or something. She pulled away from him, still chuckling.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said through a schoolgirl snicker. “Guess we came from different places, that’s all. Sorry.”
“What do you mean?” He suddenly found himself wishing she’d hug him again.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, her merriment at his expense finally subsiding. “Sorry for being so forward. It’s just… pretty normal where I come from.”
“No… it’s okay. I… I mean, good that. I’m good.” He was glad she couldn’t see his face, because it must’ve burned so red she’d start laughing all over again.
He thought of Teresa then. He thought of Minho and the others. He had to take control. Now.
“Look, you said it yourself,” he said, trying to pump confidence into his voice. “No one chased us. We need to go back.”
“Are you sure?” She had a suspicious tone.
“What do you mean?”
“I could get you through the city. Find enough food to take with us. Why don’t we leave all of them? Make it to this safe haven place on our own?”
Thomas wasn’t going to have this conversation. “If you won’t come back with me, fine. But I’m going.” He put his hand against the wall to guide himself and started walking in the direction from which they’d fled.
“Wait!” she called out, then caught up to him. She grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers, now walking alongside him, hand in hand like old lovers. “I’m sorry. Really. I just… I think it would be easier to make it through with fewer people. I’m not really great friends with any of those Cranks. Not like you and your… Gladers.”
Had he said that word around her? He didn’t remember, but anybody could’ve at some point without his noticing. “I really think as many of us as possible need to make it to the safe haven. Even if we do get past the city, who knows what’ll be next. Maybe then we’ll really want numbers.”
He thought about what he’d just said. Did he really only care about having numbers in the end so they’d have a better chance to be safe? Was he really that detached?
“Okay” was all she said in response. Something had changed in her. She seemed less confident. Less in charge.
Thomas took his hand from her grip, coughing into it as an excuse. He didn’t reach out for her again when he finished.
They didn’t talk for the next few minutes. He followed her, sensing her even though he still couldn’t see. After several turns, a light appeared up ahead, brightening quickly as they approached.
It turned out to be sunlight, pouring down from jagged holes in the roof-the aftermath of the explosion. Massive chunks of rock and twisted pieces of steel and broken pipes blocked the way to where the stairs had been-and it looked like climbing over the wreckage would be dangerous. A haze of dust clouded everything, making the rays of sunshine appear thick and alive, motes dancing like gnats. The air smelled of plaster and something burnt.
