James Dashner - The Blade of Shattered Hope

“All right, Sleeks,” he said. “What now?”

One of the smoky creatures walked ahead of him, seeming to float along, then clasped its smoky fingers into fists and leaned forward as it screeched out a breathy series of harsh words, completely indecipherable.

“That guy needs a cough drop somethin’ awful,” Paul said, the first time he’d spoken in a good hour or two.

“How do we know Jane will come here to see us?” Sofia asked. “For all we know, she could just tell them to kill us and be done with it.”

Tick winced at the thought, but he had confidence that wouldn’t happen. “She’ll want to know what I did to ruin her black tree thing. That, or she’ll want to rub it in our faces before she slaughters us herself. She’ll come, don’t worry.”

The Sleek moved to stand with its companion behind Tick and his friends. Tick turned his attention to the gate, feeling each breath draw in and out as he anxiously waited for the thing to swing open.

A low rumbling noise seemed to come from everywhere at once, like the sound of cranked-up machinery. The ground vibrated, then intensified to an outright shake, making Tick’s feet almost bounce in the mud. He warily took a step backward, then a few more. Paul and Sofia did the same until they were about twenty feet from the iron bars. The gate remained closed. The sound of thrumming machinery grew louder.

“Seems like a lot of work just to open a stupid gate!” Paul yelled.

Tick nodded but didn’t respond, his gaze riveted ahead, the anticipation making him feel waterlogged in his chest. His concentration was so focused on the gate itself that he didn’t notice what was happening at their feet until Sofia shouted for them to look down.

A huge section of the muddy ground was shifting, the front edge right in front of the gate lowering, tilting on a fulcrum in the middle of the section. Tick and his companions rose as the other end sank like a giant seesaw. The angle steepened at an alarming rate, approaching forty-five degrees before anyone could react.

“Get-” Tick began, but couldn’t finish, his feet slipping out from under him.

He fell on his butt and scrambled to hold onto something, but his fingers found only wet, slippery mud. He looked up, frantic, and saw a big chunk of black smoke heading for his face. It hit him like a hard shot from a firm pillow, and then he was sliding toward the gaping hole that had opened at the foot of the gate.

He slipped through the slimy sludge, Paul and Sofia right next to him. Down, down, until they reached the edge and plummeted into dark, empty air.

The fall lasted only ten feet or so, but it was the longest and worst second of Tick’s life-a terrifying second when he felt like he’d either drop forever or be smashed to a bloody pulp far below. He barely had time to curl into a protective ball before he slammed into a dirt-packed floor. He felt the wind knock out of him and heard the grunts of his two friends. He only peripherally noticed the section of ground above them slam shut with a metallic clang, leaving them in complete darkness.

Groaning, he rolled over onto his side, knowing he’d been lucky to avoid a broken bone or worse-even though at the moment, his whole body hurt.

“You guys okay?” he called out.

“Fine,” Sofia answered.

A few seconds passed, then Paul said, “I think I broke my spleen.”

“What?” Tick forgot his aches and pains and sat up.

“I’m kidding, dude. I’m fine. I don’t even know what a spleen is. Does anybody know what a spleen is?”

Tick spoke before he knew what he was saying. “It’s a highly vascular lymphoid organ between your stomach and diaphragm.” He paused. “Sorry. Been reading a lot of science books lately.”

“I already knew that,” Sofia said.

“Yeah,” Paul replied. “I’m sure you did, Miss Italy. What do you think happened to Master George?”

Tick got to his feet, the jarring pain of the fall starting to fade for the most part. “He’s probably being held somewhere else. This can’t be the place they want to keep us. Why would they have a prison cell right below the gate?” He held his hands out, trying to feel for anything in the darkness.

“I bet it’s a trap,” Sofia said. “Ya know, for people who come here who aren’t supposed to. Like us. Makes sense to have it below the spot they’d most likely come to if they wanted in.”

Paul must’ve been exploring, too, because he bumped into Tick. “Oops, sorry.” He patted Tick on the shoulder then walked a different direction. “I don’t know, Sofia. Maybe it’s just a marker or something, and the way you actually get into the Factory is to come down here.”

Before Tick could say anything, a loud clang filled the air, and a source of faint light made him look to his left. A huge door had swung open, and a dark figure stood in the widening crack, mostly in shadow because the glowing, orange light source was behind him. Or her. Or it. Tick couldn’t quite tell yet.

The door opened all the way until it came to rest flush against the wall, their visitor standing alone in the doorframe. Something was odd about the thing, and when the light behind it flared brighter, as if someone had stoked a fire, Tick got a good look for the first time.

It was man-sized and man-shaped, but any other comparison to a human being ended there. The creature had no eyes, no nose, no mouth, no ears. Its arms were stumps without hands. Winding strips of what looked like thick cotton covered every inch of the thing’s body, protruding from the skin, moving and swaying back and forth like flags in the wind. Each strip was about a foot long, and they shot out from the body as if charged with static electricity.

“What… who…” Sofia began but didn’t finish.

Tick and Paul remained silent.

The creature turned its head, looking without eyes at each of them in turn, its odd strips whipping the air like they were trying to escape and fly away.

A rush of chills ran along Tick’s arms and shoulders.

A female voice came from somewhere down the tunnel, echoing and bouncing its way to them like scurrying bats. The voice was strong, but whispery. Scratchy. Creepy. It said only two words.

“Firekelt, burn.”

In that instant, Tick remembered the water monsters that had tried to kill his mom and dad. Jane had called them waterkelts. Kelts must be some term she used for her new creations. And if this one was a firekelt -

Bright, flaring light cut off Tick’s thought.

Each strip of cloth on the creature’s body from head to toe ignited into searing hot fire, like a thousand old-fashioned wicks soaked in oil. Flames licked out in every direction, the blazing ribbons whooshing and spitting and hissing so that the monster looked like Medusa with fiery snakes.

Intense heat radiated from the firekelt and washed over Tick in waves as he backed away, Sofia and Paul right by his side. Sweat beaded on Tick’s forehead, dripping into his eyes.

The creature took one step toward them, sudden and quick. Then another. The strips continued licking at the air like tiny solar flares, raging with fire but not burning up in the least.

“What do we do?” Tick shouted.

“Got a bucket of water on ya?” Paul responded.

“It won’t hurt you,” said a voice from behind the flaming monster, that same scratchy voice that had instructed it to burn in the first place. Tick guessed it was Mistress Jane, and when she spoke again, he had no doubt. “Firekelt, extinguish.”

A great swooshing rush of air swept through the door and swirled inside the big room. It intensified, seeming to come from all directions at once and gusting back and forth like a hurricane. Tick instinctively reached out and grabbed Paul for support, feeling as if he were about to be swept off his feet. Sofia joined them, and they huddled together in a strange group hug.