The Scorch Trials - James Dashner [100]
With the bows and arrows, the knives and machetes? It seemed almost silly. A few of them would’ve done just as well.
Along the way, Thomas had learned some things. The dark-skinned girl’s name was Harriet, and the one who was always with her, with the reddish blond hair and white, white skin, was named Sonya. Though he couldn’t tell for certain, he guessed that those two had mostly been in charge until Teresa had arrived. They acted with some authority, but always deferred to her in the end.
“Okay,” Teresa said. “Let’s tie him to that ugly tree.” She pointed at the bone-white skeleton of an oak, its roots still clinging to the rocky soil even though it had to have been dead for years and years. “And we might as well feed him so he doesn’t moan and groan all day and keep us awake.”
Laying it on a little thick, isn’t she? Thomas thought. Whatever her true intentions, her words had started to get a little ridiculous. And he couldn’t deny it anymore—he was really starting to hate her, no matter what she’d said in the beginning.
He didn’t fight as they tied his torso to the trunk, leaving his hands free. Once they had him good and secure they gave him a few granola bars and a bottle of water. No one spoke to him or met his gaze. And strangely, if he wasn’t mistaken, he noticed that everyone looked a little guilty. He started eating, and as he did he carefully took in everything around him. His thoughts wandered all over the place as the rest of them began settling in to sleep out the remaining daylight. Something wasn’t right about all this.
Teresa’s display certainly didn’t seem like an act. It never had. Was it possible that she was doing the exact opposite of what she’d told him—making him think he should trust her when her real plan had been and was to—
With a jolt he remembered the tag outside her door back in the dorm. The Betrayer. He’d completely forgotten about it until that moment. Things started to make more sense.
WICKED was the boss, here. They were the groups’ only hope of surviving. If they’d really told her to kill him, would she do it? To save herself? And what was that line she’d spit out about his having done something to her? Could they even be manipulating her thoughts? Making her not like him anymore?
Then there was his tattoo and the signs in the city. The tattoo had warned him; the signs had told him he was the real leader. The label next to Teresa’s door had been another warning.
Still—he had no weapons and he was tied to a tree. Group B outnumbered him by more than twenty and they all had weapons. Real easy.
Sighing, he finished up his food and felt a little better physically. And though he didn’t quite know how everything added up, he had a new confidence that he was closer to understanding. And that he couldn’t quit.
Harriet and Sonya had pallets laid out nearby; they kept sneaking looks at him as they readied for sleep. Again Thomas noticed those odd expressions of shame or guilt. He saw it as an opportunity to fight for his life with words.
“You guys don’t really wanna kill me, do you?” He asked it in a tone that said he’d caught them in a lie. “Have you ever even killed anyone before?”
Harriet gave him a harsh glare, stopping just before she laid her head down on a wad of blankets. She propped herself up on her elbow. “Based on what Teresa told us, we escaped our Maze three days faster than your group did. Lost fewer people and killed more Grievers to do it. I think knocking off one little insignificant teenage boy won’t be too tough.”
“Think of the guilt you’ll feel.” He could only hope the thought would dig