for a few days, and when I woke up, speaking out to Rachel seemed the most natural thing in the world. If she hadn't accepted it and spoken back, I'm pretty sure I would've lost it. The other girls in the group hated me—some of them wanted to kill me. Rachel was the only one who . . .'
He trailed off, and Minho stood up to address everyone before Aris could finish what he was saying. Thomas was glad for it, because hearing about the trippy alternate version of what he himself had been through only made him think of Teresa, and that hurt too much. He didn't want to think about her anymore. He had to concentrate on surviving for now.
'We've got three minutes,' Minho said, for once looking completely serious. 'Everybody sure they still wanna go?'
Thomas nodded, noticed others doing the same.
'Anybody change their mind overnight?' Minho asked. 'Speak now or never. Once we go wherever we're going, if some shank decides he's a sissy pants and tries to turn back, I'll make sure he does it with a broken nose and smashed privates.'
Thomas looked over at Newt, who had his head in his hands and was groaning loudly.
'Newt, you got a problem?' Minho asked, his voice surprisingly stern. Thomas, shocked, waited for Newt's reaction.
The older boy seemed just as surprised. 'Uh . . . no. Just admiring your bloody leadership skills.'
Minho pulled his shirt away from his neck, leaned over to show everyone the tattoo there. 'What does that say, slinthead?'
Newt glanced left and right, his face blushing. 'We know you're the boss, Minho. Slim it.'
'No, you slim it,' Minho retorted, pointing at Newt. 'We don't have time for that kind of klunk. So shut your hole.'
Thomas could only hope that Minho was putting on an act to solidify the decision they'd made for him to be the leader, and that Newt understood. Though if Minho
'It's six o'clock!' one of the Gladers shouted.
As if this proclamation had triggered it, the invisible shield turned opaque again, fogging to a splotchy white. A split second later it vanished altogether. Thomas noticed the change in the wall opposite them instantly—a large section of it had transformed into a flat, shimmering surface of murky, shadowy gray.
'Come on!' Minho yelled as he pulled the strap of his pack onto his shoulder. He was gripping a water bag in his other hand. 'Don't mess around—we only have five minutes to get through. I'll go first.' He pointed at Thomas. 'You go last—make sure everyone follows me before you come.'
Thomas nodded, trying to fight the fire burning through his nerves; he reached up and wiped the sweat off his forehead.
Minho walked up to the wall of gray, then paused right in front of it. The Flat Trans seemed completely unstable, impossible for Thomas to focus on. Shadows and swirls of varying shades of darkness danced across its surface. The whole thing pulsed and blurred, as if it might disappear at any second.
Minho turned to look back at them. 'See you shanks on the other side.'
Then he stepped through, and the wall of gray murk swallowed him whole.
CHAPTER 14
No one complained as Thomas herded the rest of them behind Minho. No one even said anything, just exchanged flickering, frightened looks as they approached the Flat Trans and went through it. Without fail, every Glader hesitated a second before taking the final step into the murkiness of the gray square. Thomas watched each of them, swatting them on the back right before they disappeared.
After two minutes, only Aris and Newt were left with Thomas.
Thomas choked on a cough, surprised by the flow of words across his consciousness—that not-quite-audible yet somehow audible speech. He'd thought—and hoped—that Aris had gotten the hint that he didn't want to communicate that way. That was something for Teresa, not anybody else.
'Hurry,' Thomas muttered out loud, refusing to answer telepathically. 'We've gotta hurry.'
Aris stepped through, a hurt look on his face. Newt followed right on his heels; just like that, Thomas was alone in the big common room.
He glanced around one last time, remembered the dead, swelling bodies that had hung there just a few days earlier. Thought about the Maze and all the klunk they'd been through. Sighing as loudly as he could, hoping someone, somewhere could hear it, he gripped his water bag and his bedsheet pack full of food and stepped into the Flat Trans.
A distinct line of coldness traveled across his skin from front to back, as if the wall of gray were a standing plane of icy water. He'd closed his eyes at the last second and opened them now to see nothing but absolute darkness. But he heard voices.
'Hey!' he called out, ignoring the sudden burst of panic in his own voice. 'You guys—'
Before he could finish, he stumbled on something and fell over, crashing on top of a squirming body.
'Ow!' the person yelled, pushing Thomas off. It was all he could do to hold tight to the water bag.
'Everyone be still and shut up!' This was Minho, and the relief that washed through Thomas almost made him shout for joy. 'Thomas, was that you? Are you in here?'
'Yes!' Thomas regained his feet, blindly feeling around him to make sure he didn't bump into someone else. He felt nothing but air, saw nothing but black. 'I 'was the last one to come through. Did everyone make it?'
'We were lining up and counting off nice and easy till you came stumbling through like a doped-up bull,' Minho responded. 'Let's do it again. One!'
When no one said anything,Thomas yelled, 'Two!' From there, the Gladers counted off until Aris went last and called out, 'Twenty.'
'Good that,' Minho said. 'We're all here, wherever here is. Can't see a shuck thing.'
Thomas stood still, sensing the other boys, hearing their breaths, but scared to move. 'Too bad we don't have a flashlight.'
'Thanks for stating the obvious, Mr. Thomas,' Minho replied. 'All right, listen up. We're in some kind of hallway—I can feel the walls on both sides, and as far as I can tell, most of you are to my right. Thomas, where you're standing is where we came in. We better not take any chances of accidentally going back through the Flat Trans thingamajiggy, so everyone follow my voice and come toward me. Not much choice but to head down this way and see what we find.'
He'd started moving away from Thomas as he said those last few words. The whispers of shuffling feet and rustling packs against clothes told him that the others were following. When he sensed that he was the last one remaining, and that he wouldn't step on anybody again, he moved slowly to his left, reaching his hand out until he felt a hard, cool wall. Then he walked after the rest of the group, letting his hand slide along the wall to keep his bearings.
No one spoke as they moved forward. Thomas hated that his eyes never adjusted to the darkness—there wasn't even the slightest hint of light. The air was cool, but smelled like old leather and dust. A couple of times he bumped into the person directly in front of him; he didn't even know who it was because the boy didn't say anything when they collided.
On and on they went, the tunnel stretching ahead without ever turning to the left or right. Thomas's hand against the wall and the ground below his feet were the only things that kept him tied to reality or gave him a sense of movement. Otherwise, he would've felt as if be were floating through empty space, making no progress whatsoever.
The only sounds were the scrapes of shoes on the hard concrete floor and occasional snatches of whispers between Gladers. Thomas felt every thump of his heart as they marched down the endless tunnel of darkness. He
