The Scorch Trials - James Dashner [63]
Brenda moved along the walls of the structure they’d just exited until they reached what Thomas thought must be the back. There, a set of steps disappeared into the pavement, reminding him of something in his past life. An entrance to some kind of underground train system, perhaps.
She didn’t hesitate. Without waiting to make sure the others were behind her, she bounced down the stairs. But Thomas noticed that the knife had reappeared in her right hand, gripped tightly and held a few inches from the side of her body—a stealthy attempt at being ready to attack—or defend—on a moment’s notice.
He followed her, eager to get out of the sun and, more importantly, make it to food. His insides ached more strongly for sustenance with every step he took. In fact, he was surprised he could still move; the weakness was like a poisonous growth inside him, replacing his vital parts with a painful cancer.
Darkness swallowed them eventually, welcome and cool. Thomas followed the sound of Brenda’s footsteps until they reached a small doorway, through which shone a glow of orange. She went inside, and Thomas hesitated at the threshold. It was a small, damp room full of boxes and cans, with a single lightbulb hanging from the center of the ceiling. It looked far too cramped for all of them to enter.
Brenda must’ve sensed his thoughts. “You and the others can stay out there in the hallway, find a wall and sit. I’ll start bringing out some tasty delights for you in a sec.”
Thomas nodded even though she wasn’t looking and stumbled back out into the hallway. He collapsed next to a wall down a ways from the rest of the Gladers, deeper into the darkness of the tunnel. And he knew for certain he’d never get back up unless he ate something.
The “tasty delights” ended up being canned beans and some type of sausage—according to Brenda, the words on the label were in Spanish. They ate it cold, but it tasted like the grandest meal ever to Thomas, and he devoured every bite. They’d already learned it wasn’t smart to eat quickly after such a long period of fasting, but he didn’t care. If he threw it all up, he’d just enjoy eating all over again. Hopefully a fresh batch.
After Brenda passed out the food to the starving Gladers, she walked over to sit by Thomas, the soft glow from the room illuminating the thin strands on the fringes of her dark hair. She set down a couple of backpacks—filled with more of the cans—at her side.
“One of these is for you,” she said.
“Thanks.” Thomas had already reached the bottom half of his can, scooping out one bite after another. No one spoke down the hall from them; the only sounds were slurping and swallowing.
“Taste good?” she asked as she dug into her own food.
“Please. I’d push my own mom down the stairs to eat this stuff. If I still have a mom.” He couldn’t help thinking of his dream and the brief glimpse he’d seen of her, but did his best to forget it—it was too depressing.
“You get sick of it fast,” Brenda said, pulling Thomas out of his head. He noticed the way she sat, her right knee pressed against his shin, and his thoughts jumped to the ridiculous idea that she’d moved her leg like that on purpose. “We only have about four or five options.”
Thomas concentrated on clearing his mind, bringing his thoughts back to the present. “Where’d you get the food? And how much is left?”
“Before this area got scorched by the flares, this city had several food manufacturing plants, plus a lot of warehouses to hold the food. Sometimes I think that’s why WICKED sends Cranks here. They can at least tell themselves that we won’t starve while we slowly go crazy and kill each other.”
Thomas scooped out the last bit of sauce from the bottom of his can and licked his spoon clean. “If there’s plenty, why do you only have a few options?