The Scorch Trials - James Dashner [109]
Thomas didn’t answer, keeping his pathetic oath to stay silent from here on out. He thought about the knife and whether he could take it from Aris.
Teresa had stepped up right to the side of the gaping rectangular hole; she shone her flashlight inside. Swept it up and down, left to right. It cut through a fine cloud of mist as she did so, but the dwindling moisture was thin enough to reveal the interior.
It was a small room, only several feet deep. Its walls appeared to be made of some silvery metal, their surfaces broken up by small protrusions maybe an inch high, each ending in a black hole. The little knobs or spouts were set about five inches apart, making a square grid across the walls.
Teresa turned to Aris, flicking off the flashlight as she did so. “Looks about right,” she said.
Aris snapped his head back to look at Thomas, who had been so focused on the strange room he’d missed another chance to do something. “Exactly like they said it would be.”
“So … I guess this is it?” Teresa asked.
Aris nodded, then switched his knife to the other hand, holding it more tightly. “This is it. Thomas, be a good boy and go on inside. Who knows, maybe this is all a big test and once you’re in they’ll let ya go and we can all have a happy reunion.”
“Shut up, Aris,” Teresa said. It was actually the first thing she’d said in quite some time that didn’t make Thomas want to punch her. She then turned back to Thomas, avoiding his eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”
Aris waved his blade, indicating that Thomas should walk forward. “Come on. Don’t make me drag you in.”
Thomas looked at him, struggling to keep a blank expression as his mind spun in a million directions. A surge of panic boiled inside him. It was now or never. Fight or die.
He turned his gaze to the open doorway and started slowly walking toward it. Three steps and he’d halved the distance. Teresa had straightened, her arms tensed in case he caused trouble. Aris kept his weapon trained on Thomas’s neck.
Another step. Another. Now Aris stood directly to his left, just two or three feet away. Teresa was behind him, out of sight, the open doorway and the odd silver room with walls covered in holes right in front of him.
He stopped, looked sideways at Aris. “What did Rachel look like as she bled to death?” It was a gamble, a pitch to throw him off.
Shocked and hurt, Aris froze, giving Thomas the split second he needed.
He jumped toward the other boy and swung his left arm in an arc to smack the knife out of his hand. It clattered across the rocks. Thomas slammed his right fist into Aris’s stomach, sending him to the ground, desperately trying to suck in a breath.
The click of metal against rock stopped Thomas from kicking the boy at his feet. He looked up to see that Teresa had picked up her spear. They locked eyes for an instant; then she charged him. Thomas threw his hands up to protect himself but it was too late—the butt of the weapon swung through the air and smacked him on the side of the head. Stars floated before his eyes as he fell, fighting to stay conscious. As soon as he hit the ground, he scrambled to his hands and knees to get away.
But he heard Teresa scream, and a second later the wood came crashing down on the top of his skull. With a thump Thomas collapsed again; something wet oozed through his hair and trickled onto both temples. Pain tore through his head, as if an axe had been driven straight into his brain. It spread to the rest of his body, making him nauseated. He somehow pushed off the ground and flopped onto his back to see Teresa with the weapon raised above her once more.
“Get in the room, Thomas,” she said through heavy breaths. “Get in the room or I’ll hit you again. I swear I’ll keep doing it till you pass out or bleed to death.”
Aris had recovered and gotten back to his feet; he stood right next to her.
Thomas reared both legs back and kicked out, connecting with a knee on both of them. They screamed and crumpled, falling on top of each other. The physical effort sent a horrible rush of