The Maze Runner (27 page)

“Was there anything else?”

“Actually, yeah.” She pulled up the sleeve of her left arm, exposing her bicep. Small letters were written across the skin in thin black ink.

“What’s that?” he asked, leaning in for a better look.

“Read it yourself.”

The letters were messy, but he could make them out when he got close enough.

Thomas’s heart beat faster. “I’ve seen that word—
wicked.”
He searched his mind for what the phrase could possibly mean. “On the little creatures that live here. The beetle blades.”

“What are those?” she asked.

“Just little lizardlike machines that spy on us for the Creators—the people who sent us here.”

Teresa considered that for a moment, looking off into space. Then she focused on her arm. “I can’t remember why I wrote this,” she said as she wet her thumb and started rubbing off the words. “But don’t let me forget—it has to mean something.”

The three words ran through Thomas’s mind over and over. “When did you write it?”

“When I woke up. They had a pen and notepad next to the bed. In the commotion I wrote it down.”

Thomas was baffled by this girl—first the connection he’d felt to her from the very beginning, then the mind-speaking, now this. “Everything about you is weird. You know that, right?”

“Judging by your little hiding spot, I’d say you’re not so normal yourself. Like living in the woods, do ya?”

Thomas tried to scowl, then smiled. He felt pathetic, and embarrassed about hiding. “Well, you look familiar to me and you claim we’re friends. Guess I’ll trust you.”

He held out his hand for another shake, and she took it, holding on for a long time. A chill swept through Thomas that was surprisingly pleasant.

“All I want is to get back home,” she said, finally letting go of his hand. “Just like the rest of you.”

Thomas’s heart sank as he snapped back to reality and remembered how grim the world had become. “Yeah, well, things pretty much suck right about now. The sun disappeared and the sky’s gone gray, they didn’t send us the weekly supplies—looks like things are going to end one way or another.”

But before Teresa could answer, Newt was running out of the woods. “How in the …,” he said as he pulled up in front of them. Alby and a few others were right behind him. Newt looked at Teresa. “How’d you get here? Med-jack said you were there one second and buggin’ gone the next.”

Teresa stood up, surprising Thomas with her confidence. “Guess he forgot to tell the little part about me kicking him in the groin and climbing out the window.”

Thomas almost laughed as Newt turned to an older boy standing nearby, whose face had turned bright red.

“Congrats, Jeff,” Newt said. “You’re officially the first guy here to get your butt beat by a
girl.”

Teresa didn’t stop. “Keep talking like that and you’ll be next.”

Newt turned back to face them, but his face showed anything but fear. He stood, silently, just staring at them. Thomas stared back, wondering what was going through the older boy’s head.

Alby stepped up. “I’m sick of this.” He pointed at Thomas’s chest, almost tapping it. “I wanna know who you are, who this shank girl is, and how you guys know each other.”

Thomas almost wilted. “Alby, I swear—”

“She came straight to you after waking up, shuck-face!”

Anger surged inside Thomas—and worry that Alby would go off like Ben had. “So what? I know her, she knows me—or at least, we used to. That doesn’t mean anything! I can’t
remember
anything. Neither can she.”

Alby looked at Teresa. “What did you do?”

Thomas, confused by the question, glanced at Teresa to see if
she
knew what he meant. But she didn’t reply.

“What did you do!” Alby screamed. “First the sky, now this.”

“I triggered something,” she replied in a calm voice. “Not on purpose, I swear it. The Ending. I don’t know what it means.”

“What’s wrong, Newt?” Thomas asked, not wanting to talk to Alby directly. “What happened?”

But Alby grabbed him by the shirt. “What happened? I’ll tell ya what happened, shank. Too busy makin’ lovey eyes to bother lookin’ around? To bother noticing what freaking
time
it is!”

Thomas looked at his watch, realizing with horror what he’d missed, knowing what Alby was about to say before he said it.

“The
walls
, you shuck. The
Doors
. They didn’t close tonight.”

Thomas was speechless. Everything would be different now. No sun, no supplies, no protection from the Grievers. Teresa had been right from the beginning—everything had changed. Thomas felt as if his breath had solidified, lodged itself in his throat.

Alby pointed at the girl. “I want her locked up. Now. Billy! Jackson! Put her in the Slammer, and ignore every word that comes out of her shuck mouth.”

Teresa didn’t react, but Thomas did enough for the both of them. “What’re you talking about? Alby, you can’t—” He stopped when Alby’s fiery eyes shot such a look of anger at him he felt his heart stutter. “But … how could you possibly blame her for the walls not closing?”

Newt stepped up, lightly placed a hand on Alby’s chest and pushed him back. “How could we not, Tommy? She bloody admitted it herself.”

Thomas turned to look at Teresa, paled at the sadness in her blue eyes. It felt like something had reached through his chest and squeezed his heart.

“Just be glad you ain’t goin’ with her, Thomas,” Alby said; he gave both of them one last glare before leaving. Thomas had never wanted so badly to punch someone.

Billy and Jackson came forward and grabbed Teresa by both arms, started escorting her away.

Before they could enter the trees, though, Newt stopped them. “Stay with her. I don’t care what happens, no one’s gonna touch this girl. Swear your lives on it.”

The two guards nodded, then walked away, Teresa in tow. It hurt Thomas even more to see how willingly she went. And he couldn’t believe how sad he felt—he wanted to keep talking to her.
But I just met her
, he thought.
I don’t even know her
. Yet he knew that wasn’t true. He already felt a closeness that could only have come from knowing her before the memory-wiped existence of the Glade.

Come see me
, she said in his mind.

He didn’t know how to do it, how to talk to her like that. But he tried anyway.

I will. At least you’ll be safe in there
.

She didn’t respond.

Teresa?

Nothing.

The next thirty minutes were an eruption of mass confusion.

Though there had been no discernible change in the light since the sun and blue sky hadn’t appeared that morning, it still felt like a darkness spread over the Glade. As Newt and Alby gathered the Keepers and put them in charge of making assignments and getting their groups inside the Homestead within the hour, Thomas felt like nothing more than a spectator, not sure how he could help.

The Builders—without their leader, Gally, who was still missing—were ordered to put up barricades at each open Door; they obeyed, although Thomas knew there wasn’t enough time and there weren’t materials to do much good. It almost seemed to him as if the Keepers wanted people busy, wanted to delay the inevitable panic attacks. Thomas helped as the Builders gathered every loose item they could
find and piled them in the gaps, nailing things together as best they could. It looked ugly and pathetic and scared him to death—no way that’d keep the Grievers out.

As Thomas worked, he caught glimpses of the other jobs going on across the Glade.

Every flashlight in the compound was gathered and distributed to as many people as possible; Newt said he planned for everyone to sleep in the Homestead that night, and that they’d kill the lights, except for emergencies. Frypan’s task was to take all the nonperishable food out of the kitchen and store it in the Homestead, in case they got trapped there—Thomas could only imagine how horrible that’d be. Others were gathering supplies and tools; Thomas saw Minho carrying weapons from the basement to the main building. Alby had made it clear they could take no chances: they’d make the Homestead their fortress, and must do whatever it took to defend it.

Thomas finally snuck away from the Builders and helped Minho, carrying up boxes of knives and barbwire-wrapped clubs. Then Minho said he had a special assignment from Newt, and more or less told Thomas to get lost, refusing to answer any of his questions.

This hurt Thomas’s feelings, but he left anyway, really wanting to talk to Newt about something else. He finally found him, crossing the Glade on his way to the Blood House.

“Newt!” he called out, running to catch up. “You have to listen to me.”

Newt stopped so suddenly Thomas almost ran into him. The older boy turned to give Thomas such an annoyed look he thought twice about saying anything.

“Make it quick,” Newt said.

Thomas almost balked, not sure how to say what he was thinking.
“You’ve gotta let the girl go. Teresa.” He knew that she could only help, that she might still remember something valuable.

“Ah, glad to know you guys are buddies now.” Newt started walking off. “Don’t waste my time, Tommy.”

Thomas grabbed his arm. “Listen to me! There’s something about her—I think she and I were sent here to help end this whole thing.”

“Yeah—end it by lettin’ the bloody Grievers waltz in here and kill us? I’ve heard some sucky plans in my day, Greenie, but that’s got ’em all beat.”

Thomas groaned, wanting Newt to know how frustrated he felt. “No, I don’t think that’s what it means—the walls not closing.”

Newt folded his arms; he looked exasperated. “Greenie, what’re you yappin’ about?”

Ever since Thomas had seen the words on the wall of the Maze—
world in catastrophe, killzone experiment department
—he’d been thinking about them. He knew if there was anyone who would believe him, it would be Newt. “I think … I think we’re here as part of some weird experiment, or test, or something like that. But it’s supposed to end somehow. We can’t live here forever—whoever sent us here
wants
it to end. One way or another.” Thomas was relieved to get it off his chest.

Newt rubbed his eyes. “And that’s supposed to convince me that everything’s jolly—that I should let the girl go? Because she came and everything is suddenly do-or-die?”

“No, you’re missing the
point
. I don’t think she has anything to do with us being here. She’s just a pawn—they sent her here as our last tool or hint or whatever to help us get out.” Thomas took a deep breath. “And I think they sent me, too. Just because she was the trigger for the Ending doesn’t make her bad.”

Newt looked toward the Slammer. “You know what, I don’t buggin’
care right now. She can handle one night in there—if anything, she’ll be safer than us.”

Thomas nodded, sensing a compromise. “Okay, we get through tonight, somehow. Tomorrow, when we have a whole day of safety, we can figure out what to do with her. Figure out what we’re supposed to do.”

Newt snorted. “Tommy, what’s gonna make tomorrow any different? It’s been two bloody years, ya know.”

Thomas had an overwhelming feeling that all of these changes were a spur, a catalyst for the endgame. “Because now we
have
to solve it. We’ll be forced to. We can’t live that way anymore, day to day, thinking that what matters most is getting back to the Glade before the Doors close, snug and safe.”

Newt thought a minute as he stood there, the bustle of the Glader preparations surrounding both of them. “Dig deeper. Stay out there while the walls move.”

“Exactly,” Thomas said. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. And maybe we could barricade or blow up the entrance to the Griever Hole. Buy time to analyze the Maze.”

“Alby’s the one who won’t let the girl out,” Newt said with a nod toward the Homestead. “That guy’s not too high on you two shanks. But right now we just gotta slim ourselves and get to the wake-up.”

Thomas nodded. “We can fight ’em off.”

“Done it before, haven’t you, Hercules?” Without smiling or even waiting for a response, Newt walked away, yelling at people to finish up and get inside the Homestead.

Thomas was happy with the conversation—it had gone about as well as he could’ve possibly hoped. He decided to hurry and talk to Teresa before it was too late. As he sprinted for the Slammer on the
back side of the Homestead, he watched as Gladers started moving inside, most of them with arms full of one thing or another.

Thomas pulled up outside the small jail and caught his breath. “Teresa?” he finally asked through the barred window of the lightless cell.

Her face popped up on the other side, startling him.

He let out a small yelp before he could stop it—it took him a second to recover his wits. “You can be downright spooky, ya know?”

“That’s very sweet,” she said. “Thanks.” In the darkness her blue eyes seemed to glow like a cat’s.

“You’re welcome,” he answered, ignoring her sarcasm. “Listen, I’ve been thinking.” He paused to gather his thoughts.

“More than I can say for that Alby schmuck,” she muttered.

Thomas agreed, but was anxious to say what he’d come to say. “There’s gotta be a way out of this place—we just have to push it, stay out in the Maze longer. And what you wrote on your arm, and what you said about a code, it all has to mean something, right?”
It has to
, he thought. He couldn’t help feeling some hope.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same thing. But first—can’t you get me out of here?” Her hands appeared, gripping the bars of the window. Thomas felt the ridiculous urge to reach out and touch them.

“Well, Newt said maybe tomorrow.” Thomas was just glad he’d gotten that much of a concession. “You’ll have to make it through the night in there. It might actually be the safest place in the Glade.”

“Thanks for asking him. Should be fun sleeping on this cold floor.” She motioned behind her with a thumb. “Though I guess a Griever can’t squeeze through this window, so I’ll be happy, right?”