They all stood silently, watching the man. Thomas didn't dare to move, hoping Brenda or maybe Teresa had any ideas because he definitely did not.

The man took a lumbering step toward them, having to wave his one good arm to keep his balance on the one good leg.

"Rose took my nose, I suppose," he repeated; the bubble of phlegm in his throat made a disgusting crackle. "And it really blows."

"Get it?" the man said, his snarl trying to morph into a grin. He looked like an animal about to pounce on its prey. "It really blows. My nose. Taken by Rose. I suppose." He laughed then, a wet chortle that made Thomas worry he might never sleep in peace again.

"Yeah, I get it," Brenda said. "That's some funny stuff."

Thomas sensed movement and looked over at her. She had pulled a can from her bag, slyly, and now gripped it in her right hand. Before he could wonder whether it was a good idea and whether he should try to stop her, she pulled her arm back and tossed the can at the Crank. Thomas watched it fly, watched it crash into the man's face.

He let out a shriek that iced Thomas to the core.

And then others appeared. A group of two. Then three. Then four more. Men and women. All dragging themselves out of the darkness to stand behind the first Crank. All just as gone. Just as hideous, consumed fully by the Flare, raging mad and injured head to toe. And, Thomas noticed, all missing their nose.

"That didn't hurt so bad," the leading Crank said. "You have a pretty nose. I really want a nose again." He stopped snarling long enough to lick his lips, then went right back to it. His tongue was a gruesomely scarred purple thing, as if he chewed it when bored. "And so do my friends."

Brenda threw another can at the Cranks, they didn't wait to see if it hit one, just took off down the nearest tunnel. Which wasn't the one Brenda had pointed out, meaning they were likely going to end up lost if they could get away from these Cranks.

Brenda seemed to know where she was going, and as it had been for the rest of their time in the Underneath, Thomas and Teresa had no choice but to follow her.

"Turn the light off. And follow me." Brenda hissed, turning into a small room, Teresa did, pushing the door shut behind her.

Brenda took Thomas's hand and Thomas took Teresa's, moving as a human chain in the pitch black.

"There's a crawl-space under a table here, I found it while exploring once, we should just be able to fit."

Thomas refused to consider their options if they wouldn't.

Teresa turned the light on for a second, the Cranks wouldn't see it from the doorway.

Brenda crawled into a crevice that looked too small even for her but was actually quite long and wide enough for them to lie sideways. She positioned herself to have her back against the far wall facing them, she motioned for them to hurry.

"You go next." Thomas told Teresa, giving her a push forward.

"Okay, hold the light." She passed him the flashlight and followed Brenda's lead.

The space looked incredibly cramped now, but Thomas thought he could squeeze into it. He put the flashlight between his teeth and crawled in.

"This is comfortable." Teresa quipped as Thomas managed to turn off the light, their chests were pressed together.

"Just like in the Glade. With Rachel and Aris." It was strange to look back on being trapped in the Homestead, surrounded by Grievers as a better time. Then something occurred to him.

"We never heard back from them, did we?" It had been long enough that they should have contacted Thomas or Teresa about a rendezvous. The telepathy had not been cut off entirely, Thomas could reach Teresa and vice versa.

But he couldn't reach Aris and Rachel, he realised with a jolt, it was like in the dormitory, when he could not reach Rachel or Teresa. They had either been cut off from each other by WICKED, which Thomas considered more likely, or were out of range. Whichever it was, they had no way of contacting their friends and knowing where to find them.

I can't get anything to them, can you? Teresa was asking, slightly frantic.

No, I think they cut us off again. Thomas repeatedly tried to breach what was almost a mental brick wall separating them. He could sense a buzz that was Teresa doing the same.

After a few tries they both gave up, they would have to get through this entirely blind and unguided.

The silence was so deep Thomas almost thought he could hear his heart beating, but before long Crank noises began to appear: coughing, random shouts, lunatic giggles. They came closer by the second, and Thomas felt a moment of panic, worried that they'd been stupid to trap themselves like this. But then he thought about it. The odds of the Cranks finding the hidden cubby-hole were slim, especially in the darkness. They'd move on, hopefully going far away. Maybe even forgetting about them altogether. That was better than a prolonged chase.

The door to the room opened, one, two, three Cranks entering, laughing and muttering. Thomas forced himself not to hold his breath, to stay still. Maybe, just maybe, they would leave without noticing them.

"Little booooooy," the voice belonged to the man they had seen before. "Little girrrrrrrrls. Come out come out make a sound make a sound. I want your noses."

"Nothin' in here," a woman spat. "Nothin' but an old table."
The creak of wood scraping against the floor sliced through the air, then ended abruptly.
"Maybe they're hiding their noses under it," the man responded. "Maybe they're still attached to their sweet little pretty faces."
Thomas shrank back against Teresa when he heard a hand or shoe scruff along the floor just outside the entrance to their little hiding place. Just a foot or two away.

"Nothin' down there!" the woman said again.
Thomas heard her move away. He realized that his whole body had tensed into a pack of taut wires; he forced himself to relax, still careful to control his breathing.

More shuffling of feet. Then a haunting set of whispers, as if the trio had met in the middle of the room to strategize. Were their minds still sound enough to do such a thing? Thomas wondered. He strained to hear, to catch any words, but the harsh puffs of speech remained indecipherable.

"No!" one of them shouted. A man, but Thomas couldn't tell if it was the man. "No! No no no no no no no no." The words quieted into a murmured stutter.

The woman cut him off with her own chant. "Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes."
"Shut up!" the leader said. Definitely the leader. "Shut up shut up shut up!"

Thomas felt cold inside, though sweat was beading on his skin. He didn't know if this exchange had any meaning whatsoever or was just more evidence of madness.
"I'm leaving," the woman said, her words broken by a sob. She sounded like a child left out of a game.

"Me too, me too." This from the other man.
"Shut up shut up shut up shut up!" the leader yelled, this time much louder. "Go away go away go away!"
The sudden repetition of words creeped Thomas out. Like some control over language had snapped in their brains.

Shuffles of feet and swishing of clothes outside. Were they leaving?
The sounds decreased sharply in volume when they entered the hallway, tunnel, whatever. The other Cranks in their party seemed to have left already. Soon it became silent all over again. Thomas only heard the faint sounds of their breathing.

They waited in the darkness, lying flat on the hard ground, facing the small doorway, pressed together, sweating. The silence stretched out, turned back into the buzz of absent sound. Thomas kept listening, knowing they had to be absolutely sure. As much as he wanted to leave that little compartment, as uncomfortable as it was, they had to wait.

Several minutes passed. Several more. Nothing but silence and darkness.
"I think they're gone," Brenda finally whispered. Teresa flicked the flashlight on.
"Hello, noses!" a hideous voice yelled from the room.
Then a bloody hand reached through the doorway and grabbed Thomas by the shirt.

Thomas shrieked, swatting at the hand, but the man was terrifyingly strong. Teresa was pulling him back.

"One of you take my knife." That was Brenda, trapped behind Teresa so almost unable to help.

Suddenly it was in Teresa's hand, she was slashing at the gruesome arm, making deep cuts.

Thomas tried to get out the way of the blade, but it still nicked his neck.

Then she managed to stick the knife into the man's arm, he screamed and pulled back.

"Get out there, we need to get rid of him!" Brenda shouted, despite it meaning he got much closer to the man, Thomas was happy to oblige. He eased himself out of the crawl-space, both girls following him.

The Crank was against a wall, clutching his injured arm and wailing. Brenda walked calmly towards him and pulled the knife out of his flesh. At that he dropped like he'd been shot, curled into the foetal position, whimpering like a child.

Brenda held her flashlight in one hand, the knife in the other, its point aimed at the Crank. "Should've gone with your psycho friends, old man. Should've known better than to mess with us."

Instead of responding, the man suddenly spun on his shoulder, kicking his good leg out with shocking speed and strength. He hit Brenda first, sent her crashing into Thomas, and they both crumpled to the floor. Thomas heard the knife and flashlight clatter across the cement. Shadows danced on the walls.

Teresa was still standing, running to grab their only weapon as Thomas and Brenda got to their feet.

She beat the Crank to it, pointing at him threateningly. The man stared at her, began to laugh.

Brenda ran over, grabbed the man's arms, he started to kick at her and scream.

But he didn't get far before Teresa stabbed him in the heart.

Thomas could only stare, it had lasted seconds. Life bled out of the Crank slowly, the madness in his eyes dimming until it had faded entirely.

Teresa helped Brenda up and Thomas moved to join them. He doubted he would have been able to do that, kill a man, but it had seemed so easy for them.

"Can we please get out of here?" He tried to hide the fear and horror in his voice but failed.

"Sure." Brenda was already heading for the door and Thomas followed. Teresa was beside him, face and hair streaked with grime and blood, he doubted he was much better.

"Don't we have a story to tell the others." Thomas smiled at that, thinking of how everyone, especially Rachel and Aris, would react.

Brenda led them to a long iron ladder up to the sky, finally, away out of these awful tunnels. Thomas went first, desperate for daylight, no matter how hot and burning.

There were no people on the street they ascended to, at least no living ones.

"Mountains should be that way." Brenda pointed north, Thomas couldn't see anything through the haze of sunlight. He and Teresa still followed her, she hadn't been wrong yet.

Thomas was wishing he would hear from Aris and Rachel, it was surprising how much he missed them, knowing they were utterly out of his reach and had never been before for more than a few minutes.

They traveled until dark, avoiding contact with anyone. They did hear the occasional scream in the distance, or the sounds of things crashing inside a building now and then. Once, Thomas saw a group of people scurry across a street several blocks away, but they seemed not to notice him, Teresa or Brenda.

Just before the sun disappeared completely for the day, they turned a corner and came into full view of the city's edge, maybe another mile farther. The buildings ended abruptly, and behind them the mountains rose in all their majesty. They were several times bigger than Thomas would've guessed upon first glimpsing them a few days earlier, and were dry and rocky.

"Should we go the rest of the way?" Thomas asked.
Brenda was busy looking for a place to hide. "Tempting, but no. First off, it's too dangerous running around here at night. Second, even if we made it, there'd be no place for cover out there unless we made it all the way to the mountains. Which I don't think we could do."

As much as Thomas dreaded spending another night in this wretched city, he agreed. But the frustration and worry over the other Gladers were eating away at his insides.

"Okay. Where should we go, then?" Teresa asked, picking a clot of blood out of her hair. "I need to sleep." Thomas could certainly agree with that.
"Follow me."

They ended up in a truck in a dead end alley. Brenda sat shotgun while Thomas shared the driver's seat with Teresa.

"I can't believe we killed someone." Teresa whispered in the dark, Thomas reached out to squeeze her hand.

"We had to do it, or they'd have killed us. The first time's the hardest." Brenda sighed, Thomas wished he could have come up with something like that. He wondered when he would have to kill someone.

"At least none of us are alone." He finally said, there was no way he would have survived without them, and he wanted them to know that.

"Yeah, that'd be awful." Teresa agreed, they were all silent for a few moments.

"They killed my dad." Brenda spoke up.
Thomas lifted his head, surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. "What?"
Brenda nodded slowly. "WICKED. He tried to stop them from taking me, screamed like a lunatic as he attacked them with ... I think it was a wooden rolling pin." She let out a small laugh. "Then they shot him in the head." Tears glistened in her eyes, sparkling in the faint light.

"You're serious?"
"Yeah. I saw it happen. Saw the life go out of him before he even hit the floor."
"Oh, man." Thomas searched for words. "I'm really ... sorry. I saw maybe my best friend in the world get stabbed. He died right in my arms." He paused again. "What about your mom?"
"She hadn't been around for a long time." She didn't elaborate, and Thomas didn't push. Didn't really want to know.

"I'm so scared of going crazy," she said after a long minute of silence. "I can already feel it happening. Things look weird, sound weird. Out of the blue I'll start thinking about stuff that doesn't make any sense. Sometimes the air around me feels ... hard. I don't even know what that means, but it's scary. I'm definitely starting. The Flare's taking my brain to hell."

Thomas couldn't handle the look in her eyes; he let his gaze drop to the floor. "Don't give up yet. We'll make it to the safe haven, get the cure."
"False hope," she said. "Guess that's better than no hope at all."

"Whatever keeps us going." Teresa added, she shifted to lie back, putting her head on Thomas's shoulder.

He was reminded of the bus ride, that had been false hope.

No one broke the silence now, instead, somehow, they slept.