James Dashner - The Scorch Trials

“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.

They were also blocked from the stash room with all that food, but Brenda found the two backpacks she’d brought out earlier.

“Doesn’t look like anybody’s here,” she said. “They didn’t come back. Jorge and your friends might’ve even gotten back up and outside somehow.”

Thomas didn’t really know what he’d been hoping to find, but at least one piece of good news was obvious. “No bodies, though, right? No one died in the explosion?”

Brenda shrugged. “Cranks could’ve dragged their bodies off. But I doubt it. No point.”

Thomas nodded, as if solidifying her statement, holding on to it. But he had no idea what to do next. Did they go through the tunnels-the Underneath-searching for the other Gladers? Did they go out into the streets? Back to the building where they’d ditched Barkley and the others? Every idea sounded horrible. He looked around, as if the answer would magically present itself.

“We have to go through the Underneath,” Brenda announced after a long moment; she’d probably been contemplating their options just like Thomas. “If the others went up top, then they’ll be long gone by now. Plus, they’ll pull any attention toward themselves and away from us.”

“And if they’re down here we’ll find them, right?” Thomas asked. “These tunnels all come back together eventually, right?”

“Right. Either way, I know Jorge will have them moving toward the other side of the city, toward the mountains. We just have to make it so we can meet up and keep going.”

Thomas looked at Brenda, thinking. Maybe only pretending to think, because he really had no option than to stick with her. She was probably his best-maybe only-bet of accomplishing anything other than a quick and horrible death at the hands of long-gone Cranks. What else could he do?

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

She smiled, a sweet smile that shone through the grime on her face, and Thomas unexpectedly longed for that moment they’d had in the darkness together. Almost as quickly as his thought formed, though, it was gone. Brenda handed him one of the backpacks, then reached into hers and pulled out a flashlight, clicked it on. The beam shot through the dust as she shone it this way and that, finally aiming it down the long tunnel they’d already been down twice.

“Shall we?” she asked.

“We shall,” Thomas muttered. He still felt sick about his friends, and he wondered if he was doing the right thing sticking with Brenda.

But when she started walking, he followed.

The Underneath was a dank, miserable place. Thomas almost preferred the utter darkness to being able to see what was around him. The walls and floors were dull gray, nothing more than painted concrete, streaks of water trickling down the sides here and there. They passed a door every few dozen feet, but most of them were locked when he tried them. Dust coated the long-dark light fixtures on the ceiling, at least half of them busted, jagged glass screwed into rusty holes.

All in all, the place had the feel of a haunted tomb. The Underneath was as good a name as any. He wondered what the underground structure had been built for in the first place. Walkways and offices for who knew what kinds of jobs? Paths between buildings on rainy days? Emergency routes? Escape routes for things like massive sun flares and attacks from crazy people?

They didn’t talk much as he followed Brenda through tunnel after tunnel, sometimes turning left at intersections or forks, sometimes turning right. His body quickly consumed any energy provided by his recent binge, and after walking for what felt like several hours he finally convinced her to stop and eat another meal.

“I’m assuming you know where we’re going,” he said to her when they set off again. Everything they passed looked exactly the same to him. Drab and dark. Dusty, where it wasn’t wet. The tunnels were silent but for the distant drops of water and the swishing of their clothes as they walked. Their footsteps, dull thumps on the concrete.

She suddenly stopped and whirled on him, shining the light on her face from below. “Boo,” she whispered.

Thomas jumped, then pushed her away. “Cut that crap,” he yelled. He felt like an idiot-his heart had just about exploded from fright. “Makes you look like a…”

She let the flashlight fall to her side, but her eyes remained locked on his. “Look like a what?”

“Nothing.”

“A Crank?”

The word cut to Thomas’s heart. He didn’t want to think of her that way. “Well… yeah,” he murmured. “Sorry.”

She turned from him and started walking again, her light shining forward. “I am a Crank, Thomas. Got the Flare, I’m a Crank. You are, too.”

He had to run a few steps to catch up with her. “Yeah, but you’re not full gone yet. And… me neither, right? We’ll get the cure before we go nuts.” The Rat Man had better have been telling the truth.

“Can’t wait. And yeah, by the way. I do know where we’re going. Thanks for checking.”

They kept going, turn after turn, long tunnel after long tunnel. The slow but steady exercise took Thomas’s thoughts off Brenda and made him feel better than he had in days. His mind drifted into a half-daze, thinking about the Maze and his splotchy memories and Teresa. Mostly about Teresa.

Eventually they entered a large room with quite a few exits branching off to the left and right, more than he’d seen previously. It almost seemed like it could be a gathering place joined by tunnels from all the buildings.

“Is this the center of the city or something?” he asked.

Brenda stopped to rest, sitting down on the ground with her back to the wall; Thomas joined her.

“More or less” she answered. “See? Already made it halfway to the other side of the city.”

Thomas liked the sound of that, but he hated to think of the others. Minho, Newt, all the Gladers. Where were they? He felt like such a shuck-face for not looking for them, seeing if they were in trouble. Could they have already made it safely outside of town?