lately. Why would she escape? It has to be some kind of trick. Come on, Brenda-you told me not to trust them. You have to know something. Talk.”
Brenda was shaking her head. “I don’t know anything about this. But why is it so hard to believe that the other subjects would have the same idea we did? To escape? They just did a better job of it.”
Minho made a noise that sounded like a wolf growling. “Insulting us is something I wouldn’t do right now. And use the word subjects again and I’ll smack you, girl or no girl.”
“You just try it,” Jorge warned. “Smack her and it’ll be the last thing you do in this life.”
“Could we stop the macho games for a bit?” Brenda rolled her eyes. “We need to figure out what comes next.”
Thomas couldn’t shake how much it bothered him that Teresa and the others-Frypan, even!-had left without them. If his group had been the ones to tie all the guards up, wouldn’t they have searched until they found their other friends? And why had Teresa wanted to leave? Had her memories brought back something she hadn’t expected?
“There’s nothing to bloody figure out,” Newt said. “We get out of here.” He pointed at a Berg.
Thomas couldn’t have agreed more. He turned to Jorge. “You’re really a pilot?”
The man grinned. “Damn straight, muchacho. One of the best.”
“Why’d they send you to the Scorch, then? Aren’t you valuable?”
Jorge looked at Brenda. “Where Brenda goes, I go. And I hate to say it, but heading for the Scorch sounded better than staying here. I looked at it like a vacation. Turned out a little rougher than I-”
An alarm started blaring, the same whining scream as before. Thomas’s heart jumped-the noise seemed even louder in the hangar than it had been in the hall, echoing off the high walls and ceiling.
Brenda looked with wide eyes at the doors they’d come through, and Thomas turned to see what had caught her attention.
At least a dozen of the black-clad guards were pouring through the opening, weapons raised. They started firing.
CHAPTER 18
Someone grabbed the back of Thomas’s shirt and yanked him hard to the left; he stumbled and fell behind the cargo box just as the sounds of glass shattering and electricity crackling filled the hangar. Several arcs of lightning threaded around and over the crate, singeing the air. They’d barely winked out before a round of bullets thudded against the wood.
“Who let ’em loose?” Minho yelled.
“Hardly think it bloody matters right now!” Newt shouted back.
The group crouched low, their bodies pressed against each other tightly. It seemed impossible that they could fight back from such a position.
“They’ll flank us any second,” Jorge called out. “We need to start shooting back!”
Despite the wild attack going on around them, the statement struck Thomas. “I guess you’re with us, then?”
The pilot looked at Brenda, then shrugged. “If she’s helping you, then so am I. And if you haven’t noticed- they’re trying to kill me, too!”
A surge of relief edged through Thomas’s terror. Now they just had to make it onto one of those Bergs.
The onslaught had paused momentarily, and Thomas could hear shuffling footsteps and short barked commands. If they were going to gain an advantage, they needed to act quickly.
“How do we do this?” he asked Minho. “You’re in charge this time.”
His friend gave him a sharp look but nodded curtly. “Okay, I’ll fire right, Newt fires left. Thomas and Brenda, you fire over the box. Jorge, you scout a way for us to get to your shuck Berg. Shoot anything that moves or wears black. Get ready.”
Thomas knelt facing the box, ready to jump to his feet on Minho’s signal. Brenda was right next to him, with two pistols instead of a Launcher. Her eyes were on fire.
“Planning to kill somebody?” Thomas asked.
“Nah. I’ll aim for their legs. But ya never know, maybe I’ll hit high by accident.”
She flashed him a smile; Thomas was liking her more and more.
“Okay!” Minho shouted. “Now!”
They made their moves. Thomas stood, lifting his Launcher up and over the box. He fired without risking a good look, and once he heard the grenade explode he popped up to search for a specific target. A man was creeping toward them from across the room, and Thomas aimed, fired. The grenade burst into lightning as it hit the man’s chest, throwing him to the ground in a fit of spasms.
Gunfire and screams filled the air of the hangar, along with the staticky sound of electricity. Guard after guard fell, clutching their wounds-mostly in their legs, as Brenda had promised. Others bolted for cover.
“We’ve got them running!” Minho yelled. “But it won’t last long-they probably didn’t realize we had weapons. Jorge, which Berg is yours?”
“That one.” Jorge pointed toward the far left corner of the hangar. “That’s my baby. It won’t take long to get her ready to fly.”
Thomas turned to where Jorge had indicated. The Berg’s large hatch door, which he remembered from the group’s escape out of the Scorch, lay open and rested on the ground, waiting for passengers to run up its metal slope. Nothing had ever looked so inviting.
Minho shot another grenade. “Okay. First everyone reload. Then Newt and I’ll cover while Thomas, Jorge and Brenda run to the Berg. Jorge, you get her fired up while Thomas and Brenda cover for us from behind that hatch door. Sound like a plan?”
“Can the Launchers hurt the Berg?” Thomas asked. Everyone was jamming additional ammo into their weapons and pockets.
Jorge shook his head. “Not much. Those beasts are tougher than a Scorch camel. If they miss us and hit my ship, all the better. Let’s do this, muchachos!”
“Then go go go!” Minho yelled without giving any warning. He and Newt started launching grenades like crazy, volleying them all along the open area in front of their waiting Berg.
Thomas felt a mad rush of adrenaline. He and Brenda took up position on the left and right of Jorge and they sprinted away from the protection of the cargo box. A flurry of firing weapons filled the air, but there was so much electricity and smoke that it was impossible to aim at anyone. Thomas shot his weapon as best he could while running, as did Brenda. He swore he could feel bullets blowing past him, barely missing. Launcher grenades exploded in a crash of glass and light to their right and left.
“Run!” Jorge shouted.
Thomas pushed himself to go faster, his legs burning. Daggers of lightning shot across the floor from all directions; bullets pinged against the metal walls of the hangar; smoke twirled like fingers of fog in odd places. It all became a blur as he focused on the Berg, now only a few dozen feet away.
They’d almost made it when a Launcher grenade smashed against Brenda’s back; she screamed and fell, her face smacking the concrete floor as electricity spiderwebbed over her body.
Thomas skidded to a stop as he cried out her name, then dropped to the ground to make himself a smaller target. Tendrils of lightning-like electricity snaked across Brenda’s body, then dwindled to smoky wisps as they raced out along the floor. Thomas lay on his stomach several feet away, dodging the errant streaks of white heat as he searched for a way to get closer.
Newt and Minho had obviously seen the disastrous turn of events and given up on the plan. They were running toward him as they continued firing. Jorge had made it to the Berg and disappeared up the hatch, but he came out again, shooting a different kind of Launcher; its grenades exploded into spouts of raging fire when they made contact. Several of the guards screamed as they erupted in flames, and the others pulled back a little because of the new threat.
Thomas waited anxiously on the ground next to Brenda, cursing his inability to help. He knew he had to wait
