James Dashner: The Scorch Trials

What’s going on up there? Teresa asked Thomas in his mind.

Don’t know, he answered.

The two of them, along with Aris, picked up the pace.

It only took another few minutes across the dusty wind-whipped plain before they reached Groups A and B.

Minho had stepped away from the larger pack of people and stood facing them when they finally made it. His arms were folded, his clothes filthy, his hair greasy, his face still showing signs of his burns. But somehow he was smiling. Thomas couldn’t believe how good it felt to see that smirky grin again.

“It’s about time you slowpokes caught up with us!” Minho yelled at them.

Thomas stopped right in front of him and doubled over to catch his breath for a few seconds, then straightened. “I thought you’d be fightin’ tooth and nail with these girls after what they did to us. To me, anyway.”

Minho looked back at the now-mingling group of boys and girls, then returned his gaze to Thomas. “Well, first of all, they have nastier weapons, not to mention bows and arrows. Plus, some chick named Harriet explained everything. We’re the ones who should be surprised-that you’re still with them.” He gave a nasty glare to Teresa, then Aris. “Never trusted either one of those shuck traitors.”

Thomas tried to hide his mixed emotions. “They’re on our side. Trust me.” And in a twisted, backward way he really was starting to believe it. As sick as it made him feel.

Minho laughed bitterly. “Figured you’d say something like that. Let me guess, it’s a long story?”

“Yeah, very long story,” Thomas answered, then changed the subject. “Why’d you all stop here? What’s everybody looking at?”

Minho stepped to the side, sweeping his arm behind him. “Have a peeky-peek yourself.” Then he yelled to the two groups, “You guys make a path!”

Several Gladers and girls looked back, then slowly shuffled to the side until a narrow break in the crowd formed. Thomas immediately saw that the object that held everyone’s attention was a simple stick poking out of the arid ground. An orange strip of ribbon hung from the top, whipping in the wind. Letters were printed on the thin banner.

Thomas and Teresa exchanged a look; then Thomas pushed ahead for a closer inspection. Even before he got there, he could read the words printed on the ribbon, black on orange.

THE SAFE HAVEN

Despite the wind and the hubbub of people, the world quieted around Thomas for a minute, as if his ears had been stuffed with cotton. He fell to his knees and numbly reached out to touch the flapping orange ribbon. This was the safe haven? Not a building, a shelter, something?

Then, as quickly as it had disappeared, sound rushed back in, snapping him back to reality. Mostly the rush of wind and the chatter of conversation.

He turned back to Teresa and Minho, who stood side by side, Aris behind them peeking over their shoulders.

Thomas glanced at his watch. “We have over an hour left. Our safe haven is a stick in the ground?” Confusion muddled his mind-he wasn’t quite sure what to think or say.

“Wasn’t so bad, when you think about it,” Minho said. “More than half of us made it here. Looks like even more of the girlie group.”

Thomas stood up, trying to control his anger. “The Flare turn you crazy already? Yeah, we got here. Safe and sound. To a stick.”

Minho scoffed at him. “Dude, they wouldn’t send us here for no reason. We made it in the time they gave us. Now we just wait until the clock ticks down and something’ll happen.”

“That’s what worries me,” Thomas said.

“Hate to say it,” Teresa added, “but I agree with Thomas. After everything they’ve done to us, it’d be way too easy to have a little sign here, and then they come get us in a nice helicopter as a reward. Something bad’s gonna happen.”

“Whatever you say, traitor,” Minho said, his face hiding none of the hatred he felt for Teresa. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.” He walked away, angrier than Thomas had ever seen him.

Thomas looked at Teresa, who was visibly taken aback. “You shouldn’t be surprised.”

She just shrugged. “I’m sick of apologizing. I did what I had to do.”

Thomas couldn’t believe she was serious. “Whatever. I need to find Newt. I want-”

Before he could finish, Brenda appeared out of the crowd, glancing back and forth between him and Teresa. The wind tore through her long hair, whipping it frenziedly so that she kept pushing it behind her ears only to have it fly out again.

“Brenda,” he said. For some reason he felt guilty.

“Hey there,” Brenda said, walking up to stand right in front of him and Teresa. “This the girl you were tellin’ me about? When you and I were snuggling in that truck?”

“Yeah.” The word popped out of Thomas’s mouth before he could stop it. “No. I mean… yeah.”

Teresa held her hand out to Brenda, who shook it. “I’m Teresa.”

“Nice to meet you,” Brenda replied. “I’m a Crank. I’m slowly going crazy. I keep wanting to chew off my own fingers and randomly kill people. Thomas here promised to save me.” Though she was obviously joking, she didn’t even crack a smile.

Thomas had to hide a wince. “Funny, Brenda.”

“Glad to see you still have a sense of humor about it,” Teresa said. But her face could’ve turned water to ice.

Thomas looked down at his watch. Fifty-five minutes left. “I, um, need to talk to Newt.” He turned and quickly walked away before either girl could say anything. He wanted to be as far away from both of them as possible.

Newt was sitting on the ground with Frypan and Minho, all three looking as if they were waiting for the end of the world.

The tearing wind had gained a moisture to it, and the billowing, churning clouds above them had lowered considerably, like a dark fog dropping to swallow the earth. Glimpses of light flashed here and there in the sky, burning patches of purple and orange in the grayness. Thomas hadn’t seen an actual lightning bolt yet, but he knew they were coming. The first big storm had begun just like this.

“Hey, Tommy,” Newt said when Thomas joined them. He sat down next to his friend and wrapped his arms around his knees. Two simple words with nothing behind them. It was as if Thomas had just gone for a leisurely walk instead of being kidnapped and almost killed.

“Glad to see you guys made it here,” Thomas said.

Frypan snorted his usual animal-like bark of a laugh. “Same back at ya. Looks like you had more fun, though. Hangin’ with your love goddess. Guess you two kissed and made up?”

“Not exactly,” Thomas said. “It wasn’t fun.”

“Well, what happened?” Minho asked. “How can you trust her after all that?”

Thomas hesitated at first, but he knew he had to tell them everything. And there was no better time than the present. He sucked in a deep breath and started talking. He told them about WICKED’s plan for him, the camp, his talk with Group B, the gas chamber. Still none of it made sense, but he felt a little better telling his friends.

“And you forgave that witch?” Minho asked when Thomas finally finished. “I won’t. Whatever those shuck WICKED people wanna do, fine by me. Whatever you wanna do, fine by me. But I don’t trust her, I don’t trust Aris, and I don’t like either one of them.”

Newt seemed to consider it more deeply. “They went through all that-all that planning and acting-just to make you feel betrayed? Doesn’t make any bloody sense.”

“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?”