The Scorch Trials - James Dashner [62]
The man named Barkley was old but looked tough, veined muscles stretching the sleeves of his shirt. He held a nasty dagger in one hand and a big hammer in the other. “Fine,” he said after a long stare down with his leader. “But if they do jump you and slit your throat, we’ll get along just fine without ya.”
“Thanks for the kind words, hermano. Now get, or we’ll have double the fun on the Tower.”
Barkley laughed as if to salvage some dignity, then started off down the same hallway Thomas and Jorge had used. He waved his arm in a “follow me” gesture and soon every last Crank was shuffling after him except Jorge and the pretty girl with the long brown hair. She still had her knife at Minho’s neck, but the good part was that she had to be Brenda.
Once the main group of Flare-infected people left the room, Jorge shared an almost relieved look with Thomas; then he subtly shook his head, as if the others might still be able to hear them.
Movement from Brenda grabbed Thomas’s attention. He looked to see her drop the knife away from Minho and step back, absently wiping the small trace of blood there on her pants. “I really would’ve killed you, ya know,” she said in a slightly scratchy voice. Almost husky. “Charge Jorge again and I’ll sever an artery.”
Minho wiped at his small wound with a thumb, then looked at the bright red smear. “That’s one sharp knife. Makes me like you more.”
Newt and Frypan groaned simultaneously.
“Looks like I’m not the only Crank standing here,” Brenda responded. “You’re even more gone than me.”
“None of us are crazy yet,” Jorge added, walking over to stand next to her. “But it won’t be long. Come on. We need to get over to the stash and put some food in you people. You all look like a bunch of starved zombies.”
Minho didn’t seem to like the idea. “You think I’m just gonna waltz over to have a sit-down with you psychos, then let you cut my freaking fingers off?”
“Just shut up for once,” Thomas snapped, trying to communicate something different with his eyes. “Let’s go eat. I don’t care what happens to your beautiful hands after that.”
Minho squinted in confusion, but seemed to pick up that something was off. “Whatever. Let’s go.”
Brenda stepped in front of Thomas unexpectedly, her face only a few inches from his. She had eyes so dark it made the whites seem to glow brightly. “You the leader?”
Thomas shook his head. “No—it’s the guy you just nipped with your knife.”
Brenda looked over at Minho, then back at Thomas. She grinned. “Well, then that’s stupid. I know I’m on the verge of crazy, but I would’ve picked you. You seem like the leader type.”
“Um, thanks.” Thomas felt a rush of embarrassment, then remembered Minho’s tattoo. Remembered his own, how he was supposed to be killed. He scrambled to say something to hide his sudden mood shift. “I, uh, would’ve picked you, too, instead of Jorge over there.”
The girl leaned forward and kissed Thomas on the cheek. “You’re sweet. I really hope we don’t end up killing you, at least.”
“All right.” Jorge was already motioning everyone toward the broken doors that led outside. “Enough of this lovefest. Brenda, we have a lot to talk about once we get to the stash. Come on, let’s go.”
Brenda didn’t take her eyes off Thomas. As for him, he still felt the tingle that had shot through his entire body when she’d touched him with her lips.
“I like you,” she said.
Thomas swallowed, his mind empty of a comeback. Brenda’s tongue touched the corner of her mouth and she grinned, then finally turned away from him and walked to the doors, slipping her knife into a pants pocket. “Let’s go!” she yelled without looking back.
Thomas knew every single Glader was staring at him, but he refused to make eye contact with any of them. Instead, he hitched up his shirt and walked forward, not caring about the slight smile on his face. Soon the others fell into step behind him, and the group exited the building and emerged into the white heat of the sun beating down on the broken pavement outside.
Brenda led while Jorge took up the