The Scorch Trials

CHAPTER 46

Thomas couldn't figure out what Teresa meant by her last statement. What had he done to her? But his mind went numb as they walked and walked and walked, apparently heading back to Group B's camp. A steady climb uphill, the effort burning his legs. A sheer cliff to their left kept them in the shade as they hiked, but everything was still red and brown and hot. Dry. Dusty. The girls gave him a few sips of water, but he was sure that every drop evaporated before it hit his stomach.

They reached a large indentation in the east wall just as the noon sun broke out overhead, a golden ball of fire bent on burning them to ashes. The shallow cave went about forty feet into the mountain face; it was obvious that this was their camp, and it looked like they'd been there for a day or two. Blankets strewn about, the remains of a fire, some trash piled on the edge. Only three people were there when they arrived— girls just like the others—which meant they'd felt they needed almost everyone to kidnap Thomas.

With the bows and arrows, the knives and machetes? It seemed almost silly. A few of them would've done just as well.

Along the way, Thomas had learned some things. The dark-skinned girl's name was Harriet, and the one who was always with her, with the reddish blond hair and white, white skin, was named Sonya. Though he couldn't tell for certain, he guessed that those two had mostly been in charge until Teresa had arrived. They acted with some authority, but always deferred to her in the end.

"Okay," Teresa said. "Let's tie him to that ugly tree." She pointed at the bone-white skeleton of an oak, its roots still clinging to the rocky soil even though it had to have been dead for years and years. "And we might as well feed him so he doesn't moan and groan all day and keep us awake."

Laying it on a little thick, isn't she? Thomas thought. Whatever her true intentions, her words had started to get a little ridiculous. And he couldn't deny it anymore—he was really starting to hate her, no matter what she'd said in the beginning.

He didn't fight as they tied his torso to the trunk, leaving his hands free. Once they had him good and secure they gave him a few granola bars and a bottle of water. No one spoke to him or met his gaze. And strangely, if he wasn't mistaken, he noticed that everyone looked a little guilty. He started eating, and as he did he carefully took in everything around him. His thoughts wandered all over the place as the rest of them began settling in to sleep out the remaining daylight. Something wasn't right about all this.

Teresa's display certainly didn't seem like an act. It never had. Was it possible that she was doing the exact opposite of what she'd told him— making him think he should trust her when her real plan had been and was to—

With a jolt he remembered the tag outside her door back in the dorm. The Betrayer. He'd completely forgotten about it until that moment. Things started to make more sense.

WICKED was the boss, here. They were the groups' only hope of surviving. If they'd really told her to kill him, would she do it? To save herself? And what was that line she'd spit out about his having done something to her? Could they even be manipulating her thoughts? Making her not like him anymore?

Then there was his tattoo and the signs in the city. The tattoo had warned him; the signs had told him he was the real leader. The label next to Teresa's door had been another warning.

Still—he had no weapons and he was tied to a tree. Group B outnumbered him by more than twenty and they all had weapons. Real easy.

Sighing, he finished up his food and felt a little better physically. And though he didn't quite know how everything added up, he had a new confidence that he was closer to understanding. And that he couldn't quit.

Harriet and Sonya had pallets laid out nearby; they kept sneaking looks at him as they readied for sleep. Again Thomas noticed those odd expressions of shame or guilt. He saw it as an opportunity to fight for his life with words.

"You guys don't really wanna kill me, do you?" He asked it in a tone that said he'd caught them in a lie. "Have you ever even killed anyone before?"

Harriet gave him a harsh glare, stopping just before she laid her head down on a wad of blankets. She propped herself up on her elbow. "Based on what Teresa told us, we escaped our Maze three days faster than your group did. Lost fewer people and killed more Grievers to do it. I think knocking off one little insignificant teenage boy won't be too tough."

"Think of the guilt you'll feel." He could only hope the thought would dig at them.

"We'll get over it." She stuck her tongue out at him—actually stuck her tongue out!—then put her head down and closed her eyes.

Sonya sat cross-legged, looking about as far from sleep as humanly possible. "We don't have a choice. WICKED said that was our only task.

If we don't do it, they won't let us in at the safe haven. We'll die out here in the Scorch."

Thomas shrugged. "Hey, I understand. Sacrifice me to save yourselves. Very noble."

She stared at him for a long time; he had to fight not to drop his gaze. She finally looked away and lay down with her back to him.

Teresa walked over, her face twisted in annoyance. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," mumbled Harriet. "Tell him to shut up."

"Shut up," Teresa said.

Thomas huffed a sarcastic laugh. "What're you gonna do, kill me if I don't?"

She didn't say anything, just kept looking at him, her face blank. "Why do you hate me all of a sudden?" he asked. "What did I do to you?"

Sonya and Harriet both had turned to listen, looking back and forth between Thomas and Teresa.

"You know what you did," Teresa finally said. "So does everyone here—I told them all about it. But even still, I wouldn't have sunk to your level and tried to kill you. We're only doing that because we have no choice. Sorry. Life's tough."

Did something just flash in her eyes? Thomas wondered. What was she trying to tell him? "What are you talking about, sink to my level? I'd never kill a friend to save my own butt. Never."

"Me neither. Which is why I'm glad we're not friends." She started to turn away.

"So what'd I do to you?" Thomas asked quickly. "Sorry, I'm kind of havin' a memory lapse—ya know, we have those a lot around here. Remind me."

She twisted back around and glared at him with fiery eyes. "Don't insult me. Don't you dare sit there and act like nothing happened. Now shut up or I'll give you another bruise on that pretty face of yours."

She stomped away, and Thomas kept silent. He shifted until he was somewhat comfortable, his head leaning back on the dead wood of the tree. Everything about his current situation stank, but he was determined to figure it out and survive.

Eventually he slept.