Chapter 9
On principal, Thomas hated the dark - the principal that he couldn't see who (or what) was out there and that darkness was a perfect cover for just about anything. This fear and hatred for the darkness around him made the experience all the more terrifying for him in the Underground. The knowledge that he was in a city full of Cranks and that his only chance of survival lay in the hands of one served to only make the situation so much worse.
"We need to go," Brenda said. "Me an' Jorge have a rendezvous for situations like this and he'll be headin' there with your friends. He'll be expecting us to get there, too."
"Ummm... Y-yeah... Okay..." Thomas really didn't want this lady to know how scared of the dark he was. He didn't even want to think of how humiliating that would be. He decided to just stick close by her side and keep his mouth closed.
"I remember you, you know," Brenda said softly and Thomas had to stop for a few seconds, trying to calm his breathing and heart rate.
"I...remember...you!" Ben ground out through gritted teeth.
"HEEEELLLLPPPP!!!"
The knife plunged down.
Small snippets of memories from a couple of weeks prior resurfaced and Thomas forced his terrible flashback down.
"What?" he squeaked out in response to Brenda.
"Yeah, you was only a small kid when we last met, but it was definitely you, I remember."
And then it clicked.
"You were with WICKED!"
"Was. Once upon a time before I caught the Flare, then they dumped me here by meself! It's the same story for most in the Scorch, you know."
She had a very similar accent to Newt's and Thomas wondered on that for a brief second before another thought came to him.
"They just left you here with nothing?"
"Yep. Same with that whole group we were with. That group of us you saw all used to work for WICKED - it's why we're all sticking together out here. Me an' Jorge, though, we aren't as gone as the others. Will be soon."
The way she was so casually talking about all this unsettled Thomas slightly. How could someone talk about something so awful in such an unbothered way? He decided it would be best to steer away from such a depressing topic.
"So, we've met before?"
"Nine years ago, yeah. You'd only just gone five and all."
"I'm only fourteen!?" Thomas could hardly believe it. After everything he'd been exposed to over the last few weeks, he felt far older than fourteen.
Brenda stopped and turned to face him. "You don't even remember how old you are?"
"WICKED took our memories, only letting us keep our first names. I'm not entirely convinced that these are our real names, either. At least, not the ones we were given at birth."
Brenda looked over at Thomas sadly. He really doesn't remember anything from before. She mentally ticked off yet another reason she couldn't stand WICKED. The list was continuously getting longer and longer every day that went by. Maybe she should stop the list and not stimulate her brain so much - that could only speed up the Flare inside of her.
She envied the Subjects of WICKED their immunity that not even they realised they had. Immunes were only ever people under the age of twenty - people who had been born during, after or only a few years before the sun flares ruined the planet. Back when the Flare Virus had first broke out, only people under ten had been safe from the effects of the virus. The children's bodies - especially those born during and after the sun flare crisis - were still adapting. Their bodies had absorbed the radiations easily and developed around it. The still-developing-still-growing figures of the children in those fundamental stages where bodies were still learning to adapt, bones were still hardening and forming, forms still changing and growing had easily been able to change to accommodate the radiation levels. Their cells, organs, skin, bodies had all adapted and formed new kinds of microorganisms and bacterium that fought for and hardened the immune system to pretty much everything.
And yet here WICKED was telling them they were dying from the worst disease known to man and needed to be cured. The Cure wasn't real; there most likely would never be a Cure. So, what was it those people wanted from these boys? Her eyes widened as she remembered WICKED's oh-so-precious Variables and Killzone patterns. That was what they were after.
"I like your name, anyway," she responded to what had just been said. "Even if Thomas wasn't your given name, I like it. Suits you more than any other name would."
"Even though it's the one WICKED gave me?"
"Sure! I mean, could you imagine yourself or ya friends with different names?"
Thomas hesitated as he thought it over before realising she was right. As weird as it was, their made-up names from WICKED did actually suit them. He admitted as much to Brenda. She just grinned. Another thought occurred to Thomas and he just had to ask: "Do you know my friends, too? Do you remember them?"
"Minho and Newt?" She'd seen them together earlier and the three seemed closer to each other than the rest of their Group. They'd been like that as young children, too. It hurt her to think that they no longer had those precious memories anymore. When Thomas nodded to her question, she nodded back.
"I remember most people from WICKED and I remember Minho and Newt, definitely. I last saw 'em about... three years ago? Somewhere around that length of time, yeah."
It had been the day the first lot of boys were sent into the Maze. She'd been doing the final medical examinations on all of them before their memories were removed. Thomas hadn't been the only one excluded from the information about the Subjects' memories being taken. Minho was a month from turning sixteen, with Newt having only turned sixteen the month before. Brenda didn't feel Thomas needed to know any of that, especially the part of how she'd been one of the ones to send them up into the Maze.
She'd been about to tell Thomas how close they'd all been when they were younger and all the adventures they'd gotten up to, but a shrill, hysterical laugh filled their ears, coming from somewhere that wasn't that far off from them. It was a laugh filled with rage and lunacy and delirium. Shivers went up her spine and Thomas seemed to jump six feet into the air. She only just managed to stop herself from giggling crazily at him, knowing the Flare was spreading rapidly through her and feeling horrified by it.
"What- who- what-" Thomas started to stammer, fumbling over his words, his voice kept low and urgent. He startled greatly when Brenda grabbed his arm, turned off her torch and pulled him down a passageway he hadn't noticed.
Brenda kept her grip on his arm firm and tight. The Underground, also known as the Tunnels (both fitting names), stretched on and on and weaved its passages all over the city and there were so many smaller, hidden passages inside the main ones. She explored this place regularly, but even for her, someone who knew the Underground well, it was incredibly easy to get lost. She wasn't taking the risk of that happening to the boy beside her. She also had to think carefully of where she was going; it wouldn't take much searching at all to find the Cranks she could hear now. Only the ones extremely past the Gone lived down here. They were the most dangerous ones.
"Brenda?" Thomas whispered.
In response, the woman shushed him and continued pulling him down the dark passage. They were getting closer to the mad laughter, now joined by screams, shouts, the thudding of heavy footsteps, and inhuman noises of pain and anger. Brenda could feel Thomas shivering in her grasp. Still, she continued leading him on.
They came to an open area and she smiled slightly as she saw an exit up ahead. The smile dropped as she saw a large group of wild Cranks gather around the way out. And then disaster struck.
"Hey! Look!" one of the Cranks called. As one, Brenda and Thomas started running as fast as they could and bolted straight for the first alcove they came across.
The two of them squeezed into a small nook in the wall and pulled a small plank of rotten wood laying on the ground over their hiding spot. It didn't cover them completely, but in the terrible lighting, it would make it hard to see they were there. Most of the Cranks ran straight past them. One stopped.
"Friends! Come out! I don't wanna hurt cha!" Another fit of crazed giggles. "I just want cha noses! Noooooossssseeeesssss!!! NOSES!"
Both Brenda and Thomas noticed at the same time her knife on the floor next to the Crank. She must have dropped it running into the small space. Unfortunately, the Crank noticed the weapon at the same time they did and bent to pick it up. As he did so, his hand shot out, knocked the wooden plank over, and latched onto Thomas' shirt. Thomas yelled out in surprise and fright and he was yanked from his hiding spot. Brenda's torch came on and she jumped out to help.
Thomas looked into the man's face and was reminded horribly of Ben. The Crank man brought up Brenda's knife.
"I WANT YOUR NOSE!" he screamed.
Brenda jumped on top of him just as he swiped the blade, aiming for Thomas' nose. He howled as pain took hold of his face and blood instantly started gushing.
He watched in horror as the woman dealt with the infected man before she grabbed her torch and they both started running for the exit again.
They emerged into the colours of a sunset, but neither stopped to admire it - they just kept running as fast as their bodies would let them.
They'd just emerged from the Underground when they heard a new set of screams start up.
"Them Cranks," Jorge said, "They make them sounds when they're hunting!"
"And that makes us feel great about what's happening to our friends!" Minho rolled his eyes.
A distant scream from somewhere farther into the city came through a faint echo and the Leader felt his blood turn cold. It might just be his imagination, but it sounded like Thomas. But it was a lot further off than the screams of the Cranks they'd just heard, so he tried to reassure himself his friend was fine. However, he couldn't shake off the bad feeling that clung like a second skin to him.
