The Scorch Trials - James Dashner [94]
“Yeah, we know already.” Newt reached out and shook her hand mockingly. “But thanks again for making sure this bloody sissy didn’t get his butt killed while you two were out partying.”
The barest hint of a smile flashed across her face. “Partying. Yeah. I especially loved the part where we had people trying to cut our noses off.” A look flashed across her face, part embarrassment, part despair. “Guess it won’t be long before I’m one of those psychos.”
Thomas didn’t know how to respond to that. “You’re probably not that much farther along than us. Remember that—”
Brenda wouldn’t let him finish. “Yeah, I know. You guys are gonna take me to the magical cure. I know.” She got up then, the conversation obviously over.
Thomas looked at Newt, who shrugged. Then, as he got to his knees, he leaned in and whispered, “She your new girlfriend? I’m telling Teresa.” He snickered to himself and was gone.
Thomas sat there for a minute, overwhelmed by it all. Teresa, Brenda, his friends. The warning he’d received. The Flare. The fact that they only had a few days to cross those mountains. WICKED. Whatever waited for them at the safe haven and in the future.
Too much. It was all too much.
He had to stop thinking. He was hungry, and that he could solve. So he got up and went searching for something to eat. And Frypan didn’t disappoint.
* * *
They set off just as the sun dipped below the horizon, making the dusty orange land look almost purple. Thomas was cramped and tired, itching to walk off some steam and loosen his muscles.
The mountains slowly became jagged peaks of shadow, growing taller and taller as they walked. There were no real foothills to speak of; the flat valley just stretched forward until the ground erupted toward the sky in sheer cliffs and steep slopes. All brown and ugly, lifeless. Thomas hoped an obvious path would present itself once they’d made it that far.
No one spoke much as they marched along. Brenda stayed close but quiet. She didn’t even talk to Jorge. Thomas hated how it was now. How suddenly everything was awkward between him and Brenda. He liked her, probably more than he liked anyone else now besides Newt and Minho. And Teresa, of course.
Newt approached him after darkness had fallen, the stars and moon their only guides. Their light was enough—you didn’t need much when the ground was flat and all you had to do was walk toward the looming wall of rock in front of you. The crunch crunch crunch of their footsteps on the earth filled the air.
“Been thinkin’,” Newt said.
“About what?” Thomas didn’t really care; he was just glad to have someone to talk to and get his mind off things.
“WICKED. Ya know, they broke their own bloody rules with you.”
“How’s that?”
“They said there were no rules. Said we had so much time to get to the bloody safe haven and that was that. No rules. People dying left and right, then they come down in a buggin’ monster flying thing and save your butt. Doesn’t make sense.” He paused. “Not that I’m complaining—I’m glad you’re alive and all.”
“Gee, thanks.” Thomas knew it was a good point, but he was tired of thinking about it.
“And then there were all those signs in the city. Weird.”
Thomas looked over at Newt, barely able to see his friend’s face. “What, you jealous or something?” he asked, trying to make a joke out of it. Trying to ignore the fact that the signs had to be a big deal.
Newt laughed. “No, you shank. Just dying to know what’s really going on around here. What this is really all about.”
“Yeah.” Thomas nodded. He couldn’t agree more. “The lady said only a few of us were good enough to be Candidates. And she did say I was the best Candidate, and they didn’t want me dying from something they hadn’t planned. But I don’t know what it all means. Has something to do with all that klunk about killzone patterns.”
They walked on for a minute or so before Newt spoke again. “Not worth bustin’ our brains about, I guess. What’s gonna happen’ll