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 those creatures were still alive and looking for a fight.
Teresa and the others kept pace next to him.
The rain-softened ground made it hard to get good traction; Thomas slipped twice, fell down once.
Teresa grabbed his shirt and yanked until he was up and running again. Others were around them, making
the same dash for the safety of the ship. The darkness of the storm and the veil of rain and brilliant flashes
of lightning made it hard to see who was who. No time to worry about it.
From the right side, lumbering around the back end of the plane, a dozen of the bulb creatures appeared;
they headed for a spot cutting off Thomas and his friends from the open cargo door. Their blades were
slick with rain, some stained crimson. At least half of their creepy glowing bulbs had been busted, and
their jerky movements showed it. But they looked as dangerous as ever. And still, the people in the Berg
did nothing, only watched.
“Go right through ’em!” Thomas yelled. Minho appeared, along with Newt and a few other Gladers,
joining the charge. Harriet and a few of the Group B girls, too. Everyone seemed to understand the plan,
as slight as it was: fight off these last few monsters and get out of there.
Maybe for the first time since entering the Glade weeks earlier, Thomas felt no fear. He didn’t know if
he’d ever feel it again. He didn’t know why, but something had changed. Lightning exploded around him,
someone screamed, the rain intensified. Wind tore through the air, pelting him with small rocks and drops
of water that hurt equally. The creatures swiped their blades through the air, screaming their disturbing
roar as they waited for battle. Thomas ran on, knife held above his head.
No fear.
Three feet from the center creature he jumped into the air, kicking forward, both legs held tightly
together. He slammed his feet into one of the orange bulbs protruding from the middle of the monster’s
chest. It burst and sizzled; the creature wailed something hideous and fell backward, slamming to the
ground.
Thomas landed in the mud and rolled to the side. Immediately jumped up and danced around the
creature, slashing and poking, bursting the glowing growths.
Pop, pop, pop.
Dodging and jumping away from the futile slashes of the creature’s blades. Retaliating, stabbing. Pop,
pop, pop. Only three bulbs were left; it could barely move. Thomas straddled the thing in a burst of
confidence and quickly threw down the final vicious thrusts to end it.
The last bulb burst and fizzled out. Dead.
Thomas got up, spun around to see if someone else needed help. Teresa had finished off hers. Minho
and Jorge as well. Newt was there, favoring his bad leg, Brenda helping him stab out the remaining bulbs
on his foe.
A few seconds later it ended. No creature moved. No orange lights shone. It was over.
Thomas, breathing heavily, looked up at the entrance to the ship, only twenty feet away. Even as he did,
its thrusters ignited and the ship started to lift off the ground.
“It’s leaving!” Thomas screamed as loudly as he could, pointing frantically at their only means of
escape. “Hurry!”
The word had barely escaped his mouth when Teresa grabbed him by the arm, pulling as she ran for the
ship. Thomas stumbled, then righted himself, pounding his feet in the mud. He heard the crack of thunder
behind them, saw a flash of lightning fill the sky. Another scream. Others beside him, around him, in front
of him now, all running. Newt with his limp, Minho next to him, eyeing him to make sure he didn’t fall.
The Berg had reached a point three feet off the ground, slowly rising and turning at the same time, ready
at any second to shift those thrusters and zip away. A couple of Gladers and three girls reached it first,
dove onto the platform of the open cargo door. Still it rose. Others reached it, climbed on, scrambled
inside.
Then Thomas made it with Teresa. The open hatch was chest-high now. He jumped and pushed his
hands down on the flat metal, arms stiff, stomach pressed against the thick edge. Swung his right leg up,
got leverage, rolled his body fully onto the door. The ship, still rising. Others climbing on, reaching to
pull others up. Teresa, halfway on, trying to find a handhold.
Thomas reached out and grabbed her hand, pulled her in. She collapsed on top of him, shared a brief
look of victory. Then she was off, and both of them approached the edge of the door to see if anyone
needed help.
The Berg was now six feet above the ground, starting to tilt. Three people still hung from the edge.
Harriet and Newt were pulling a girl in. Minho was helping Aris. But Brenda held on only with her
hands, her body dangling as she kicked her feet and tried to pull herself up.
Thomas dropped to his stomach and scooted closer, reached out and grabbed her right arm. Teresa got
the other one. The metal of the cargo door was wet and slick; when Thomas pulled on Brenda he started
sliding out, but then stopped abruptly. A quick look behind him revealed that Jorge had planted his butt
and feet, holding tightly to both Thomas and Teresa.
Thomas looked back at Brenda, started pulling again. With Teresa’s help, she finally came over the
edge enough for her stomach to gain purchase; it was easy from there. As she crawled on and farther in,
Thomas took another look outside at the ground, slowly moving away. Nothing but those horrific
creatures, lifeless and wet, full of saggy pockets of flesh that had once been full and brightly lit. A few
dead human bodies, but not many, and no one Thomas was close to.
He scooted backward, away from the edge, feeling an immense amount of relief. They’d made it, most
of them. They’d made it through Cranks and lightning and hideous monsters. They’d made it. He bumped
into Teresa, turned toward her, pulled her in and hugged her tightly, forgetting what had happened for a
second. They’d made it.
“Who are these two people?”
Thomas jerked away from Teresa to see who’d shouted—it was a man with short red hair, holding a
black pistol pointed at Brenda and Jorge, who sat next to each other, shivering and wet and bruised.
“Somebody answer me!” the man yelled again.
Thomas spoke up before he could think about it. “They helped us get through the city—we wouldn’t be
here if it weren’t for them.”
The man snapped his head toward Thomas. “You … picked them up along the way?”
Thomas nodded, not liking where this was going. “We made a deal with them. Promised they’d get the
cure, too. We still have fewer people than we started with.”
“Doesn’t matter,” the man said. “We didn’t say you could bring citizens!”
The Berg continued to climb higher in the sky, but the gaping door didn’t close. Wind whipped through
the wide hole; any one of them could go tumbling to their death if they hit turbulence.
Thomas got to his feet anyway, determined to defend the pact he’d made. “Well, you told us to come
here, and we did what we had to do!”
Their gun-toting host paused, seemed to consider this line of reasoning. “Sometimes I forget how little
you people understand what’s going on. Fine, you can keep one of ’em. The other goes.”
Thomas tried not to show the jolt this gave him. “What do you mean … the other goes?”
The man clicked something on the gun, then held its end closer to Brenda’s head. “We don’t have time
for this! You have five seconds to choose the one who stays. Don’t choose and they both die. One.”
“Wait!” Thomas looked at Brenda, at Jorge. They both stared at the floor, said nothing. Their faces pale
with fear.
“Two.”
Thomas suppressed the rising panic, closed his eyes. There was nothing new here. No, he understood
things now. Knew what he had to do.
“Three.”
No more fear. No more shock. No more questioning. Take what comes. Play along. Pass the tests. Pass
the Trials.
“Four!” The man’s face reddened. “Choose right now or they both die!”
Thomas opened his eyes and stepped forward. Then he pointed at Brenda and said the two most foul
words to ever pass through his lips.
“Kill her.”
Because of the odd pronouncement that only one could stay, Thomas thought he understood, thought he
knew what would happen. That it was yet another Variable and they’d take whomever he didn’t choose.
But he was wrong.
The man jammed his gun into the waistband of his pants, then reached down and grabbed Brenda’s shirt
with two hands, yanking the girl to her feet. Without a word, he moved toward open air, taking her with
him.
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