trailed off, a perplexed look wrinkling his eyebrows. “Guess there won’t be another Newbie, huh?”
Thomas relaxed, returned to a sitting position, surprised at how easily he’d been put back at ease. He thought of the girl and the note saying she was the last one ever. “Guess not.”
Minho squinted slightly, as if he was studying Thomas. “You saw the chick, right? Everybody says you probably know her or something.”
Thomas felt himself grow defensive. “I saw her. Doesn’t really look familiar at all.” He felt immediately guilty for lying-even if it was just a little lie.
“She hot?”
Thomas paused, not having thought of her in that way since she’d freaked out and delivered the note and her one-liner- Everything is going to change. But he remembered how beautiful she was. “Yeah, I guess she’s hot.”
Minho leaned back until he lay flat, eyes closed. “Yeah, you guess. If you got a thing for chicks in comas, right?” He snickered again.
“Right.” Thomas was having the hardest time figuring out if he liked Minho or not-his personality seemed to change every minute. After a long pause, Thomas decided to take a chance. “So…,” he asked cautiously, “did you find anything today?”
Minho’s eyes opened wide; he focused on Thomas. “You know what, Greenie? That’s usually the dumbest shuck-faced thing you could ask a Runner.” He closed his eyes again. “But not today.”
“What do you mean?” Thomas dared to hope for information. An answer, he thought. Please just give me an answer!
“Just wait till the fancy admiral gets back. I don’t like saying stuff twice. Plus, he might not want you to hear it anyway.”
Thomas sighed. He wasn’t in the least bit surprised at the non-answer. “Well, at least tell me why you look so tired. Don’t you run out there every day?”
Minho groaned as he pulled himself up and crossed his legs under him. “Yeah, Greenie, I run out there every day. Let’s just say I got a little excited and ran extra fast to get my bee-hind back here.”
“Why?” Thomas desperately wanted to hear about what happened out in the Maze.
Minho threw his hands up. “Dude. I told you. Patience. Wait for General Alby.”
Something in his voice lessened the blow, and Thomas made his decision. He liked Minho. “Okay, I’ll shut up. Just make sure Alby lets me hear the news, too.”
Minho studied him for a second. “Okay, Greenie. You da boss.”
Alby walked up a moment later with a big plastic cup full of water and handed it to Minho, who gulped down the whole thing without stopping once for breath.
“Okay,” Alby said, “out with it. What happened?”
Minho raised his eyebrows and nodded toward Thomas.
“He’s fine,” Alby replied. “I don’t care what this shank hears. Just talk!”
Thomas sat quietly in anticipation as Minho struggled to stand up, wincing with every move, his whole demeanor just screaming exhaustion. The Runner balanced himself against the wall, gave both of them a cold look. “I found a dead one.”
“Huh?” Alby asked. “A dead what?”
Minho smiled. “A dead Griever.”
CHAPTER 13
Thomas was fascinated at the mention of a Griever. The nasty creature was terrifying to think about, but he wondered why finding a dead one was such a big deal. Had it never happened before?
Alby looked like someone had just told him he could grow wings and fly. “Ain’t a good time for jokes,” he said.
“Look,” Minho answered, “I wouldn’t believe me if I were you, either. But trust me, I did. Big fat nasty one.”
It’s definitely never happened before, Thomas thought.
“You found a dead Griever,” Alby repeated.
“Yes, Alby,” Minho said, his words laced with annoyance. “A couple of miles from here, out near the Cliff.”
Alby looked out at the Maze, then back at Minho. “Well… why didn’t you bring it back with you?”
Minho laughed again, a half-grunt, half-giggle. “You been drinkin’ Frypan’s saucy-sauce? Those things must weigh half a ton, dude. Plus, I wouldn’t touch one if you gave me a free trip out of this place.”
Alby persisted with the questions. “What did it look like? Were the metal spikes in or out of its body? Did it move at all-was its skin still moist?”
Thomas was bursting with questions- Metal spikes? Moist skin? What in the world? -but held his tongue, not wanting to remind them he was there. And that maybe they should talk in private.
“Slim it, man,” Minho said. “You gotta see it for yourself. It’s… weird.”
“Weird?” Alby looked confused.
“Dude, I’m exhausted, starving, and sun-sick. But if you wanna haul it right now, we could probably make it there and back before the walls shut.”
Alby looked at his watch. “Better wait till the wake-up tomorrow.”
“Smartest thing you’ve said in a week.” Minho righted himself from leaning on the wall, hit Alby on the arm, then started walking toward the Homestead with a slight limp. He spoke over his shoulder as he shuffled away-it looked like his whole body was in pain. “I should go back out there, but screw it. I’m gonna go eat some of Frypan’s nasty casserole.”
Thomas felt a wash of disappointment. He had to admit Minho did look like he deserved a rest and a bite to eat, but he wanted to learn more.
Then Alby turned to Thomas, surprising him. “If you know something and ain’t tellin’ me…”
Thomas was sick of being accused of knowing things. Wasn’t that the problem in the first place? He didn’t know anything. He looked at the boy square in the face and asked, simply, “Why do you hate me so much?”
The look that came over Alby’s face was indescribable-part confusion, part anger, part shock. “Hate you? Boy, you ain’t learned nothin’ since showing up in that Box. This ain’t got nothin’ to do with no hate or like or love or friends or anything. All we care about is surviving. Drop your sissy side and start using that shuck brain if you got one.”
Thomas felt like he’d been slapped. “But… why do you keep accusing-”
“Cuz it can’t be a coincidence, slinthead! You pop in here, then we get us a girl Newbie the next day, a crazy note, Ben tryin’ to bite ya, dead Grievers. Something’s goin’ on and I ain’t restin’ till I figure it out.”
“I don’t know anything, Alby.” It felt good to put some heat into his words. “I don’t even know where I was three days ago, much less why this Minho guy would find a dead thing called a Griever. So back off!”
Alby leaned back slightly, stared absently at Thomas for several seconds. Then he said, “Slim it, Greenie. Grow up and start thinkin’. Ain’t got nothin’ to do with accusing nobody of nothin’. But if you remember anything, if something even seems familiar, you better start talking. Promise me.”
Not until I have a solid memory, Thomas thought. Not unless I want to share. “Yeah, I guess, but-”
“Just promise!”
Thomas paused, sick of Alby and his attitude. “Whatever,” he finally said. “I promise.”
At that Alby turned and walked away, not saying another word.
Thomas found a tree in the Deadheads, one of the nicer ones on the edge of the forest with plenty of shade. He dreaded going back to work with Winston the Butcher and knew he needed to eat lunch, but he didn’t want to be near anybody for as long as he could get away with it. Leaning back against the thick trunk, he wished for a breeze but didn’t get one.
He’d just felt his eyelids droop when Chuck ruined his peace and quiet.
“Thomas! Thomas!” the boy shrieked as he ran toward him, pumping his arms, his face lit up with
