Chapter 10

Brenda and Thomas ran long into the night, not stopping once. Eventually, they came to a dark, narrow alleyway between two dilapidated buildings.

Somehow, somebody had managed to get a pickup truck into the tight gap, though it had clearly been there for a long time and was damaged beyond repair. It looked like it could collapse at any moment. Still, it would do for just the two of them for one night.

Thomas climbed into the open back and found an old, tattered, dirty blanket. Brenda climbed in, too, so Thomas unfolded it and silently offered it to her. He wrapped a small bit of it around himself and curled up, Brenda doing the same next to him. She turned to face him and gasped.

"Oh! Crap! Oh, Thomas, your face!"

He'd almost forgotten about that, but now he was starting to fully feel the pain. He'd been distracted earlier and fear-fuelled adrenaline had kept him going. That adrenaline was rapidly draining now and exhaustion was taking over. He sat up groggily and reached for his face.

"No." Brenda reached out an arm to stop him. "Let me."

She tore a strip of the worn fabric off the blanket and grabbed a bottle from her backpack that was almost empty. Her torch came on again and, soaking the cloth, she gently, tenderly started to wipe the blood from his face. The knife hadn't gone all too deep and the wound had stopped bleeding a while back.

She wiped off the dried blood and proceeded to check over his face, noting with relief that the long cut didn't seem infected. The swollen eye had also gone down and the split lip seemed fine. Next, she placed the damp fabric over Thomas' eye and held it lightly in place.

"Jorge has very different ideas of sealing a deal to me," Thomas said by way of explanation.

"If he wanted to, he could kill you in a matter of seconds. And he's been known to be a lot more harsh in his deals than just a split lip and black eye! What's so special about you?" Brenda asked. Of course, she knew what was so special about him, but she asked anyway, not expecting an answer.

"I don't know." Thomas sighed. "WICKED seems obsessed with me!"

Oh, I bet they are, Brenda thought grimly.

"How much do you know about them?"

"Not a lot," Thomas admitted. "They're testing us for some reason and apparently we're different from other people. They want to know how we react to situations or something. I'm not sure, but they might be interested in our brains? That's all I've got, really."

Brenda was ready tell him about how WICKED was looking for the Cure and how the two Groups were all Immunes and why Thomas was so special, but something came over her and she couldn't open her mouth. She wasn't in control of her own body!

WICKED had put chips in the heads of all their workers, not just the Subjects. Even though Brenda had caught the Flare and been abandoned in the Scorch, she still had her chip and now they were controlling her, stopping her from telling all their secrets. She felt angry that her thoughts had continued to be monitored all this time - even now, all she was to them was an experiment. That's all anyone was to WICKED! They thought they could do anything they wanted, whenever they wanted, to whom ever they wanted. She couldn't believe she'd ever been a part of that.

After a minute or so of silence, they both snuggled down under the blanket again.

"Do you think any Cranks will come in the night?" Thomas was aware that he sounded really young saying that, but he couldn't help it. The alley led off down several different backstreets and Cranks could come down any of those paths and get them from behind. Or they could come down the way Thomas and Brenda had come and catch them from the front, leaving their rear exposed for an ambush. Or there could be Cranks in the buildings on either side of them, waiting to trap them in a pincer manoeuvre.

"You're next to one right now."

"But you're not like..." he couldn't even bring himself to say it, so Brenda guessed.

"The ones in the Tunnels?"

"Is that really what happens? You get worse as time goes on? Will we all end up that way?"

"The Flare is a virus that takes root in the brain," Brenda started to explain. "The more stimulated your brain is - the more you're actively using it - the quicker it spreads and takes effect. As time passes, it gets rapidly worse."

"And you said most people here were from WICKED," Thomas added. "They're all scientists there, aren't they? So, their brains must have been really stimulated when they were left here!"

"You must understand, Thomas, that being here only makes it worse. You've seen what it's like, seen how quick you've gotta be on your feet, how many split-second decisions gotta be made."

"That's why we need to make it to the Safe Haven for the Cure."

Brenda sighed sadly. "There most likely won't be anything there. If the Cure had already been found, the world wouldn't be in such a state like it's now. It's just another test."

"We've got to try," Thomas stated firmly. "It's our only hope! And what if there is something? We have to at least see or we'll never know!"


Just a little way from where Thomas and Brenda were situated, although neither party was to know, Jorge and the rest of the Gladers had made camp in and old ruin of a building. Coincidentally, Minho and Newt were having a very similar conversation to that of their missing friend.

"Do you think this Cure is real?" Minho asked. Newt shook his head as he pondered this.

"Do you think there's even a Safe Haven?" he asked back.

"Can't trust anything WICKED says. Wouldn't be surprised if this is all a big trap and there's an ambush waiting over them mountains!"

"Still, we have no choice! We gotta try, Minho," Newt said firmly. "It's our only hope!"

"How do we know Jorge is taking us there, though? Him and that Brenda will meet up and betray us!"

"Don't say stuff like that!"

"We need to be realistic, Newt," Minho told him in a defeated voice. Out here, they would be wise to prepare for the absolute worst; they may even need to consider that Thomas hadn't made it.

A boy named Alan came over to join them at that moment, stating, "I've been thinking about something."

"Mark down the time and date, Newt, something amazing's happened!" Minho interrupted.

Alan simply rolled his eyes and continued: "Aris said there was a girls' group, right?"

"So, you can listen and recall facts? Well done!"

"Minho, shut up!" Newt scolded before telling Alan to continue.

"They took Aris and put him with the boys and they've taken Teresa, too. There's probably a good chance she's with the girls."

"What are you getting at?" Newt was curious now.

"It's fair to assume we're all travelling through the Scorch, isn't it?" He received hesitant nods and wondered if Minho had seen Thomas' tattoo on his back. When all the boys had been examining each other's, Alan had caught Newt reading Thomas' and remembered that now. "Well, we're probably all heading for the same goal. If we're infected, they must be, too."

"So, we all want the Cure WICKED has?" Minho began and Alan nodded.

"Given everything that's gone on so far, this has to be another test - maybe who can get to it first? It seems unlike WICKED to make it as simple as just arriving there and being saved. Maybe we're in a race against the girls?"

The older boys both instantly sat up straighter, looking straight into Alan's eyes. They shared a look between each other before looking back to him. It was clear that the gears were turning in their heads, realisation dawning in their eyes.

"It would make sense," Newt started.

"So, whoever loses gets to go insane and die a miserable death in the Scorch?" Minho finished. Not quite the way Newt would have put it, but at least they were all on the same page.

"Maybe we'll have to fight it out?" another boy - Francis - came into the conversation. The others had to admit that it would be just like WICKED to make them fight over the thing that could save their lives.

Newt thought back to Thomas' tattoo and shivered, wondering if he should tell his friend. Minho was the Leader, he could come up with something, he could stop their friend from being killed. Newt opened his mouth, but Jorge came over at that moment, already speaking before he'd caught their attention.

"I know we all need a rest and I know it's not wise to move around here at night, but I really think we should continue to the Old Tower."

Instantly, there were several objections, but Jorge held up his hands for silence.

"I think we're being followed. And even if we're not, certain parts of the Scorch belong to certain groups of Cranks. It's too dark to tell where we are at the moment, but I don't wanna risk being in the territory of past-the-Gone Cranks!"

Jorge had caught the attention of all the boys there and they all rose and silently followed the man back out into the night. They kept very close to one another so as to not get lost. It was incredibly dark out and the man they were with was unwilling to turn on his torch just yet in case it attracted any unwanted attention.


Thomas woke suddenly, somehow instantly knowing something was wrong. He could hear noises from the shadows around the truck.

"Brenda!" he whispered urgently and rolled over to shake her, only to find she wasn't there!

"Brenda?"

He didn't want to turn on her torch, but felt he had no choice. The beam of light fell onto the woman he was looking for. She stood next to the truck pressing herself up against the old building looming over them and scratching one hand repeatedly back and forth against one specific brick.

There was a man Thomas didn't recognise stood to the side of her and he was doing the same thing.

Horrified, Thomas slowly started to rise, getting ready to run if needed, when someone jumped into the truck's back with him, causing him to yell in surprise. This brought Brenda back to reality and she spun quickly on her heels, locating the source of the noise.

The man hauled Thomas to his feet and pushed him off the truck. Brenda caught him as he stumbled and then stood protectively in front of him, an arm reaching slightly behind her to shield him.

"Who are you?" the man all but growled.

Thomas took in his appearance as he and Brenda started to back away: half of his left ear was missing, a dark cloth covered his right eye, he had no top on and his trousers were way too small, his entire upper body was covered in burns, blisters and scars, and a deep incision ran from his left cheekbone over his nose and ended on his right cheekbone in a perfectly straight and horizontal line.

Thomas didn't know if he or Brenda should answer the man's question, but Brenda didn't seem willing and he knew he should trust her judgment on this.

As he backed slowly away, he stumbled into the other man who'd been stood by Brenda. The man spun him around to face him, taking Thomas' shirt in his fists and bringing him just inches from the other's face. A crazy, unreasonable fury filled every line of the man's face and body.

"Watch where you're going!" he hissed at the boy before him, spit flying out of his mouth as he spoke.

"Leave him alone!" Brenda yelled.

A third Crank crawled out of the shadows (literally crawled on his hands and knees!) and made animal growling sounds from the back of his throat.

"YOU CAN'T TALK TO US LIKE THAT!!!" he screamed. With that, he threw himself at Brenda and the two immediately started fighting viciously.

Meanwhile, the man on top of the truck jumped down and joined his friend who still had Thomas' shirt bunched in his fists. They started to drag the boy and it was only then that the shock and fright wore off and he realised what was happening. He tried to fight back, but there were two of them, both tall grown men, and they were far stronger than he was.

"Get off!"

"Shut up!" one of the men ordered and slapped him across the face.

They continued on and eventually came across a small building with the sounds of a wild party crashing out of the open door.

Thomas was forced to drink something once he was pushed inside and the smell reminded him of Gally's "Special Brew".

Instantly, a Crank woman of about forty came up, trying to dance with him. She was very touchy and kept running her hands through his hair, smiling sadistically the whole time. Thomas was too scared of how she'd react if he tried to get her to stop, so he just stood there and let her whisper nonsense in his ear; he couldn't hear what she was saying anyway.

Actually, he could barely hear anything.

Or see anything.

It was like all sights and sounds were coming through a very long tunnel and he was all the way at the other end of it. There must have been something in the drink!

The woman licked the side of his face, but it didn't really register. The men who'd brought him here - now joined by their friend who'd been fighting Brenda - were approaching him, but his vision was all blurry and he couldn't be entirely sure it was them.

He felt himself fall and when he opened his eyes agin, he was in a room by himself, tied to a chair with a single bulb hanging above him. He blinked in surprise: he didn't remember falling unconscious or being knocked out or anything. In fact, his recollection of the previous night amounted to very little.

What happened? he wondered. That's when three men walked into the room. Oh, yeah. That happened!

The first man spoke: "We heard you with your friend last night, heard her call you Thomas. Your name's plastered all over this damn city - what's up with that? Why are you so special?"

"What do you mean my name's all over the city?" Thomas asked. "I only just got here!"

One of the men threw a sign down in front of him.

"You know what we mean!"

Thomas read the sign in great shock and confusion:

Thomas is the real Leader

"What?" he breathed out. "It's not possible!"

The first man who'd spoken sighed. "He's clearly not seen it before. He doesn't know what it means!"

The third man - the only one not to have spoken yet - pulled out a gun, demanding, "You better tell us everything you know, Kid, because we have some questions about you!"

So, Thomas started to talk, answering all their questions as best as he could, filling in as many details as his memory allowed.

"And now I'm here," he concluded.

"I think he's lying," one of his captors stated calmly.

"We can't trust anyone from WICKED," his friend chimed in.

"He's no use to us now." This was from the man with the gun, who raised the weapon now and levelled it with Thomas' head.

The sounds of shouting and violence came from upstairs and the three men ran off to investigate, noises of punches being thrown following the slamming of a door up a set of steps. The door was thrown open again and Thomas could hear someone running down.

Minho appeared and Thomas couldn't stop himself from yelling in relief and happiness.

"Calm down, shank! It's only me!"

Still, the older boy did have a small smile on his face and the look in his eyes betrayed how glad he was to have found him.

"I'm so glad you're here!" Thomas told his friend truthfully as he began to untie the ropes pinning him in place. He stood and shook his limbs, trying to bring feeling back into them; the ropes had been quite tight.

"I'm glad I'm here, too, actually. Was that pile of klunk about to shoot you?!"

"It seemed like that."

Minho looked like he was about to go and murder the man, so Thomas changed subjects.

"I'm fine really. Is Brenda with you guys?"

Jorge came running into the small room just then, cursing as he saw that it was only occupied by the two boys.

"She's not in here, either!" he ranted.

"Brenda isn't with you guys?" Thomas felt uneasiness take over. At Jorge's questioning look, he continued. "Some Cranks found us last night. One of them attacked Brenda and the others brought me here. I haven't seen her since!"

"We need to go find her," Jorge decided and ushered them all up the stairs and out the entrance where everyone else was waiting.

"Tommy!" Newt called out to his friend and went over to greet him, frowning at the shallow gash across his face that had clearly been made by a knife.

He shared a look with Minho and they both silently decided to bring it up later and not cause a scene in front of everyone else.

"Glad ya not bloody dead, shank!"

"HEY!"

They all spun around to see the man with the gun. He pulled the trigger and time seemed to stop altogether. The bullet rammed into Thomas and the impact sent him flying backwards, a cry of pain erupting from deep within. Minho saw red, charged at the Crank, knocked the weapon from his grasp, and started punching as hard as he could. How dare that man shoot his brother! How dare he! He'd shot his brother!

Newt rushed to his friend's side. Dark red was spreading rapidly across Thomas' shirt, making it impossible to tell where the wound was. Uncontrollable rage at the one who'd done this battled with immense fear for his friend for dominance at the forefront of his mind.

"Tommy! Tommy, look at me! It will be okay, yeah? Don't worry, it'll be okay!"

"Newt," Thomas whispered, gasping in pain. "Newt, I-"

His eyes screwed themselves shut against the white-hot burning stamping itself all over his body. Pain took over and led him to darkness to escape the horrible feeling branding his torso.