The Scorch Trials - James Dashner [125]
“Had to be lightning,” Teresa said.
Thomas rubbed his ears, the ringing worse now. “Couple more of those and well be right back where we started.” His voice sounded hollow.
Another check of the watch. Five minutes. The water drip-drip-dripped into the puddle; that horrible smell lingered; the bells in Thomas’s head lessened.
“This isn’t quite what I imagined, hermano,” Jorge said. “Thought we’d show up here and you’d convince the big bosses to take us in. Give us that cure. Didn’t think we’d be holed up in a stinking bathtub waiting to be electrocuted.”
“How much longer?” Teresa asked.
Thomas looked. “Three minutes.”
Outside, the storm raged, bursts of lightning slamming into the ground, the rain pounding.
Another boom and crack shook the pod, widened the split in the ceiling enough that water began rushing in, splashing all over Brenda and Jorge. Something hissed and steam seeped in as well, the lightning having heated up the outside material.
“We’re not gonna last much longer no matter what happens!” Brenda shouted. “It’s almost worse sitting here and waiting for it!”
“There’s only two minutes left!” Thomas yelled back at her. “Just hold on!”
A sound started up outside. Faint at first, barely discernible over the noises of the storm. A humming. Deep and low. It grew in volume, seemed to vibrate Thomas’s whole body.
“What is that?” Teresa asked.
“No idea,” Thomas answered. “But based on our day, I’m sure it’s not good. We just have to last another minute or so.”
The sound got louder and deeper. Overwhelming the thunder and rain now. The walls of the pod vibrated. Thomas heard a rushing wind outside, different somehow from what had been blowing all day. Powerful. Almost … artificial.
“There’s only thirty seconds left,” Thomas announced, suddenly having a change of heart. “Maybe you guys are right. Maybe we’re missing something important. I … I think we should look.”
“What?” Jorge responded.
“We need to see what’s making that sound. Come on, help me open this back up.”
“And if a nice big lightning bolt comes down and fries my butt?”
Thomas put the palms of his hands on the ceiling. “We gotta take a chance! Come on—push!”
“He’s right,” Teresa said, and she braced her hands to help.
Brenda copied her, and soon Jorge joined them.
“Just about halfway,” Thomas said. “Ready?”
After getting a few positive grunts, he said, “One … two … three!”
They all pushed toward the sky, and their strength ended up being way too much. The lid flipped up and over and crashed to the ground, leaving the pod fully open. Rain pummeled them, flying horizontally, captured by a ferocious wind.
Thomas leaned on the edge of the pod and gaped at what hovered in the air just thirty feet off the ground, lowering rapidly to land. It was huge and round, with flickering lights and burning thrusters of blue flame. It was the same ship that had saved him after he was shot. The Berg.
Thomas glanced at his watch just in time to see the last second tick down. Looked back up.
The Berg touched down on clawlike landing gear and a huge cargo door in its metal belly began to open.
CHAPTER 61
Thomas knew they couldn’t waste any more time. No questions, no fear, no bickering. Only action.
“Come on!” he yelled, pulling Brenda’s arm as he stepped out of the pod. He slipped and toppled over, landing with a wet smush in the mud. He pushed himself up, spitting the slimy stuff out of his mouth and rubbing it from his eyes, and scrambled back to his feet. The rain poured down, thunder cracked from all directions, lightning bolts lit the air in ominous flashes.
Jorge and Teresa had made it out, Brenda helping them. Thomas looked over at the Berg—maybe fifty feet away—its cargo door now fully open, a gaping maw of an entrance to warm light inside. Shadowy forms stood there, holding guns, waiting. They obviously didn’t intend to come out and assist anybody onto the safe haven. The real safe haven.
“Run!” he screamed, already on the move. He held his knife in front of him, gripped tightly, in case any of