The Death Cure - James Dashner [68]
“I want to kiss you,” the woman said. “What do you say, Munie?” She laughed, a manic cackle that was full of snorts, and ran her hand lightly down Thomas’s chest.
Thomas jerked away and continued walking—he noticed that the guards hadn’t even stopped to make sure nothing bad happened.
Brenda leaned closer and whispered to him. “That might’ve been the creepiest thing yet.”
Thomas just nodded and kept going.
CHAPTER 38
The bowling alley didn’t have any doors—based on the thick rust that covered the exposed hinges, they’d been taken off and disposed of a long time ago. A large wooden sign hung above the entrance, but any words it had once displayed were gone, leaving only faded scratches of color.
“He’s in there,” the guard with the mustache said. “Now pay up.”
Minho stepped past him to the empty doorway and leaned through the opening, craning his neck to see inside. Then he turned around and looked at Thomas.
“I can see him in the back,” Minho said, his face pinched with worry. “It’s dark in there, but it’s definitely him.”
Thomas had been so worried about finding their old friend, he realized he didn’t have any clue what they’d actually say to him. Why had he told them to get lost?
“We want our money,” the guard repeated.
Jorge appeared completely unfazed. “You’ll get double if you make sure we get back to our Berg safely.”
The two guards consulted; then the shorter one took a turn speaking. “Triple. And we want half of it now to make sure you’re not blowing smoke out your butts.”
“That’s a deal, muchacho.”
As Jorge pulled out his card and touched it to the guard’s, transferring the money, Thomas felt a grim satisfaction that they were stealing money from WICKED.
“We’ll wait right here,” the guard said when they were done.
“Come on,” Minho said. He went inside the building without waiting for a response.
Thomas looked at Brenda, who was frowning.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. As if there were just one thing.
“I don’t know,” she responded. “I just have a bad feeling.”
“Yeah, you and me both.”
She gave him a half smile and took his hand, which now he gladly accepted; then they went into the bowling alley with Jorge right behind them.
As with many things since his memory had been wiped, Thomas had images in his mind of what a bowling alley should have looked like and how it functioned, but he couldn’t recall having ever bowled. The room they stepped into was far from what he’d expected.
The lanes where people had once bowled were now completely torn up, most of the wood panels ripped out or broken. Sleeping bags and blankets filled the spaces now, with people either napping or lying in a daze as they stared at the ceiling. Brenda had told Thomas that only the rich could afford the Bliss, so he wondered how people would dare reveal to others that they were using it in a place like this. He imagined it wouldn’t be long before someone decided to do whatever it took to get the drug from them.
In the niches where the bowling pins used to stand, several fires burned, which couldn’t have been very safe. But at least one person sat at each fire, tending it. The smell of burning wood wafted through the air, and a smoky haze choked the darkness.
Minho pointed to the far left lane, about a hundred feet away. Not many people were over there—most seemed to congregate in the middle lanes—but Thomas spotted Newt immediately despite the poor lighting. It was the flash of his long blond hair in the firelight and the familiar shape of his slumping body. His back was to them.
“Here goes nothing,” Thomas whispered to Brenda.
No one bothered them as they carefully made their way to Newt, picking through the maze of people dozing in blankets until they reached the far lane. Thomas watched where he walked—the last thing he wanted was to step on some Crank and get bitten in the leg.
They were about ten feet away from Newt when