They walked for an hour and didn’t see a single car, much less a cab. They ran into only a few scattered
people, and cop machines let out their eerie hum as they flew by at random. Every few minutes they’d
hear a sound in the distance that brought memories of the Scorch back to Thomas—someone talking too
loudly, a scream, an odd laugh. As the light faded to darkness, he began to feel more and more spooked.
Finally Brenda stopped and faced the rest of them. “We’ll have to wait till tomorrow,” she announced.
“We’re not going to find transportation tonight and we’re too far to walk. We need to sleep so we’ll be
fresh in the morning.”
Thomas hated to admit it, but she was right.
“There’s gotta be a way to get out there,” Minho countered.
Jorge squeezed his shoulder. “It’s useless, hermano. The airport’s at least ten miles from here. And by
the looks of this town we’d get mugged or shot or beaten to death on the way. Brenda’s right—better to
rest up and go help him tomorrow.”
Thomas could tell Minho wanted to be his usual defiant self, but he gave in without arguing. Jorge
made too much sense. They were in a huge city, at night, completely out of their element.
“Are we close to our motel?” Thomas asked. He told himself that Newt could make it through one more
night alone.
Jorge pointed to his left. “Just a few blocks.”
They headed in that direction.
They were a block away when Jorge pulled up short, holding one hand in the air and putting a finger to his
lips with the other. Thomas stopped dead in his tracks, alarm suddenly tingling through his nerves.
“What?” Minho whispered.
Jorge turned in a slow circle, scanning the area around them, and Thomas did the same, wondering
what had suddenly made the older man so apprehensive. Darkness had completely fallen, and the few
streetlights they passed barely put a dent in it. The world Thomas could see seemed made of shadows,
and he imagined horrible things hiding behind every one of them.
“What?” Minho whispered again.
“I keep thinking I hear something right behind us,” Jorge replied. “Whispering. Anyone else—”
“There!” Brenda shouted, her voice like a crack of thunder in the silence. “Did you see that?” She was
pointing off to her left.
Thomas strained to look but saw nothing. The streets were empty as far as he could tell.
“Someone was just coming out from behind that building, then jumped back. I swear I saw it.”
“Hey!” Minho yelled. “Who’s over there?”
“Are you crazy?” Thomas whispered. “Let’s get inside the motel!”
“Slim it, dude. If they wanted to shoot us or something, don’t you think they would’ve done it by now?”
Thomas just sighed in exasperation. He didn’t like the feel of this at all.
“I should’ve said something when I first heard it,” Jorge said.
“Maybe it’s nothing,” Brenda responded. “And if it is, standing around won’t help. Let’s just get out of
here.”
“Hey!” Minho yelled again, making Thomas jump. “Hey, you! Who’s over there?”
Thomas smacked him on the shoulder. “Seriously, would you stop that?”
His friend ignored him. “Come out and show yourself!”
Whoever it was didn’t respond. Minho moved like he was going to walk across the street and take a
look, but Thomas grabbed him by the arm.
“No way. Worst idea in history. It’s dark, it could be a trap, it could be a lot of terrible things. Let’s
just get some sleep and keep a better eye out tomorrow.”
Minho didn’t put up much of an argument. “Fine. Be a wuss. But I get one of the beds tonight.”
And with that they went up to their room. It took forever for Thomas to fall asleep, his mind spinning
with the possibilities of who might be following them. But no matter where his thoughts wandered, they
always came back to Teresa and the others. Where were they? Could that have been Teresa out on the
street, spying on them? Or had it been Gally and the Right Arm?
And Thomas hated that they’d had no choice but to wait a night before checking on Newt. What if
something had happened to him?
Finally his mind slowed, the questions faded away, and he fell asleep.
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