Thomas awoke to darkness, and it felt as if he had been put into some type of ancient torture device, nails
slowly driving into his skull from all directions.
He groaned, a halting, terrible sound that only intensified the pain in his head. He forced himself silent,
tried to reach up to rub—
His hands wouldn’t move. Something held them down, something sticky pressing against his wrists.
Tape. He tried to kick out with his legs, but they were bound, too. The effort sent another wave of pain
crashing through his head and body; he went limp, moaning softly. He wondered how long he’d been out.
“Brenda?” he whispered. No response.
A light came on.
Bright and stabbing. He squeezed both eyes shut, then opened one just enough to squint through. Three
people stood in front of him, but their faces were in shadow, the light source coming from behind.
“Wakey wakey,” a husky voice said. Someone snickered.
“Want some more of that fire juice?” This came from a woman. The same person snickered again.
Thomas finally grew accustomed to the light and opened his eyes fully. He was in a wooden chair,
wide gray tape tightly securing his wrists to the armrests and his ankles to the chair legs. Two men and
one woman stood in front of him. Blondie. Tall and Ugly. Ponytail.
“Why didn’t you just whack me out in the alley?” Thomas asked.
“Whack you?” Blondie responded. His voice hadn’t seemed husky before; it sounded like he’d spent
the last few hours yelling out on the dance floor. “What do you think we are, some kind of twentiethcentury
mafia clan? If we wanted to whack you, you’d already be dead, bleeding in the streets.”
“We don’t want you dead,” Ponytail interrupted. “That would spoil the meat. We like to eat our victims
while they’re still breathing. Eat as much as we can before they bleed to death. You wouldn’t believe
how juicy and … sweet that tastes.”
Tall and Ugly laughed, but Thomas couldn’t tell whether Ponytail was serious. Either way, it freaked
him out.
“She’s kidding,” Blondie said. “We’ve only eaten other humans when it’s gotten completely desperate.
Man meat tastes like pig crap.”
Another burst of giggles from Tall and Ugly. Not snickering, not laughing. Giggling. Thomas didn’t
believe they were serious—he was much more worried about how their minds seemed … off.
Blondie smiled for the first time since Thomas had met him. “Joking again. We’re not quite that
Cranked-out yet. But I do bet people don’t taste very good.”
Tall and Ugly and Ponytail nodded.
Man, these guys are really starting to lose it. Thomas thought. He heard a muffled groan to his left and
looked over. Brenda was in a corner of the room, bound just as he was. But her mouth had been taped shut
as well, making him wonder if she’d put up more of a fight before she passed out. It looked like she was
only now waking up, and when she noticed the three Cranks, she shifted and wiggled in her chair,
moaning through the gag. Her eyes lit with fire.
Blondie pointed at her. His pistol had magically appeared. “Shut up! Shut up or I’ll splat your brain on
the wall!”
Brenda stopped. Thomas expected her to start whimpering or crying or something. But she didn’t, and
he immediately felt stupid for thinking it. She’d already shown how tough she was.
Blondie dropped the gun to his side. “Better. Good God, we should’ve killed her when she first started
screaming up there. And biting.” He looked at his forearm, where the long arc of a welt shone red.
“She’s with him,” Ponytail said. “We can’t kill her yet.”
Blondie pulled a chair from the far wall and took a seat just a few feet in front of Thomas. The others
followed suit, looking relieved, as if they’d been waiting hours for permission. Blondie rested the gun on
his thigh, its business end pointed straight at Thomas.
“Okay,” the man said. “We’ve got us quite a lot to talk about. I’m not going through the normal bullcrap
with you, either. If you mess around or refuse to answer or whatever, I’m gonna shoot you in the leg. Then
the other one. Third time, a bullet goes into your girlfriend’s face. I’m thinking somewhere right between
the eyes. And I bet you can guess what happens the fourth time you piss me off.”
Thomas nodded. He wanted to think he was tough, think he could stand up to these Cranks. But common
sense won out. He was taped to a chair, no weapons, no allies, nothing. Though honestly, he didn’t have
anything to hide. He’d answer whatever the guy asked him. Whatever ended up happening, he didn’t want
any bullets in his leg. And he doubted the guy was bluffing.
“First question,” Blondie said. “Who are you and why is your name on signs all over this piece of crap
city?”
“My name is Thomas.” As soon as it came out, Blondie scrunched up his face in anger. Thomas
realized his stupid mistake and hurried along. “You already knew that. Well, how I got here is a really
weird story and I doubt you’ll believe it. But I swear I’m telling the truth.”
“Didn’t you come on a Berg like the rest of us?” Ponytail asked.
“Berg?” Thomas didn’t know what that meant, but he just shook his head and went on. “No. We came
out of some underground tunnel about thirty miles or so to the south. Before that we went through
something called a Flat Trans. Before that—”
“Hold it hold it hold it,” Blondie said, holding up a hand. “A Flat Trans? I’d shoot you right now, but
there’s no way you just made that up.”
Thomas wrinkled his brow in confusion “Why?”
“You’d be stupid to try getting away with an obvious lie like that. You came through a Flat Trans?” The
man’s surprise was obvious.
Thomas glanced at the other Cranks, both of whom had similar looks of shock on their faces. “Yeah.
Why’s that so hard to believe?”
“Do you have any idea how expensive Flat Transportation is? Before the flares, it had just been
revealed to the public. Only governments and billionaires can afford to use it.”
Thomas shrugged. “Well, I know they have a lot of money, and that’s what the guy called it. A Flat
Trans. Kind of a gray wall that tingles like ice when you walk through it.”
“What guy?” Ponytail asked.
Thomas had barely started and already his mind was jumbled. How could you tell a story like this? “I
think he was from WICKED. They’re running us through some kind of experiment or test. I don’t really
know everything. We … had our memories wiped out. Some of mine came back, but not a whole lot.”
Blondie didn’t react for a second, just sat there staring at him. Almost through him, at the wall behind.
Finally, he said, “I was a lawyer. Back before the flares and this disease ruined everything. I know when
someone’s lying. I was very, very good at my job.”
Oddly, Thomas relaxed. “Then you know I’m not—”
“Yeah, I know. I wanna hear the whole thing. Start talking.”
Thomas did. He couldn’t say why, but it seemed okay. His instincts told him these Cranks were just
like everybody else—sent here to live out their last horrible years succumbing to the Flare. They were
just trying to find an advantage, find a way out, like anybody would. And meeting a guy who had special
signs about him all over the city was an excellent first step. If Thomas had been in their shoes, he’d
probably have been doing the same thing. Without the gun and bindings, hopefully.
He’d told most of the story to Brenda just the day before, and related it much the same way now. The
Maze, the escape, the dorms. Being given the mission to cross the Scorch. He took special care to make it
sound very important, stressing the part about the cure waiting at the end. Since they’d lost the chance to
have Jorge’s help getting through the city, maybe he could start over with these people. He also expressed
his concern over the other Gladers, but when he asked if they’d seen them—or a big group of girls—the
answer was no.
Once again, he didn’t talk much about Teresa. He just didn’t want to take any chances of endangering
her somehow, though he had no idea how talking about her might do that. He also lied a bit about Brenda.
Well, he never really lied directly. He just kind of made it sound like she’d been with him from the
beginning.
When he finished, ending at the part where they’d met the three people in front of him in the alley, he
took a deep breath and adjusted himself in the chair. “Can you please take this tape off me now?”
A flick of Tall and Ugly’s hand caught his attention and he looked to see that a very sharp, shiny knife
had appeared there. “What do you think?” he asked Blondie.
“Sure, why not.” He’d held a stoic face throughout the tale, giving no hint yet as to whether he believed
the story.
Tall and Ugly shrugged and got to his feet, walked over to Thomas. He was just leaning over, knife
outstretched, when a commotion broke out above. Hard thumps on the ceiling, followed by a couple of
screams. Then it sounded like a hundred people running. Frantic footsteps, jumping, more thumps. More
screams.
“Another group must’ve found us,” Blondie said, his face suddenly pale. He stood, motioned for the
other two to follow him. A few seconds later they were gone, vanishing up a set of stairs into the
shadows. A door opened and closed. The chaos above continued.
All of this combined to scare Thomas nearly out of his wits. He looked over at Brenda, who sat
perfectly still, listening. Her eyes finally met his gaze. Still gagged, she could only raise her eyebrows.
He didn’t like their odds being left like this, taped to chairs. There was no way any of the Cranks he’d
met that night had a chance against ones like Mr. Nose. “What if a bunch of full-gone Cranks are up
there?” he asked.
Brenda mumbled something through the tape.
Thomas strained every muscle and started jumping his chair in tiny steps toward where she sat. He’d
made it about three feet when the sounds of fighting and rumbling suddenly stopped. He froze, looked up
at the ceiling.
Nothing for several seconds. Then a set of footsteps, maybe two, shuffling across the floor above. A
loud thump. Another loud thump. Then another. Thomas imagined bodies being thrown on the ground.
The door at the top of the stairs opened.
Then footsteps, hard and heavy, running down. It was all in shadow, and a cold panic flooded
Thomas’s body as he waited to see who came down.
Finally, someone stepped into the light.
Minho. Dirty and bloody, burn marks on his face. Knives in both hands. Minho.
“You guys look comfy,” he said.
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