warehouses to hold the food. Sometimes I think that's why WICKED sends Cranks here. They can at least tell themselves that we won't starve while we slowly go crazy and kill each other.'
Thomas scooped out the last bit of sauce from the bottom of his can and licked his spoon clean. 'If there's plenty, why do you only have a few options?' He had the thought that maybe they'd trusted her too quickly, that they could be eating poison. But she was eating the same food, so his worries were probably far-fetched.
Brenda pointed toward the ceiling with her thumb. 'We've only scoured the closest ones. Some company that specialized, not much variety.
'Guess my mom doesn't have much of a chance if she's ever standing between us and a grocery store.' 'Guess not.'
She smiled then, though a shadow mostly hid her face. The grin still shone through, and Thomas found himself liking this girl. She'd just drawn blood from his best friend, but he liked her. Maybe, in small part, because of that.
'Does the world still have grocery stores?' he asked. 'I mean, what's it like out there after all this Flare business? Really hot, with a bunch of crazy people running around?'
'No. Well, I don't know. The sun flares killed a lot of people before they could escape to the north or south. My family lived in northern Canada. My parents were some of the first ones to make it to the camps set up by the coalition between governments. The people who ended up forming WICKED later.'
Thomas stared for a second, his mouth wide open. She'd just revealed more to him about the state of the world in those few sentences than anything he'd heard since having his memory wiped.
'Wait. . . wait a second,' he said. 'I need to hear all this. Can you start from the beginning?'
Brenda shrugged. 'Not much to tell—happened a long time ago. The sun flares were completely unexpected and unpredictable, and by the time the scientists tried to warn anyone, it was way too late. They wiped out half the planet, killed everything around the equatorial regions. Changed climates everywhere else. The survivors gathered, some governments combined. Wasn't too long before they discovered that a nasty virus had been unleashed from some disease-control place. Called it the Flare right from the beginning.'
'Man,' Thomas muttered. He looked down the hall at the other Gladers, wondering if they'd heard any of this, but none of them seemed to be listening, all absorbed in their food. They were probably too far away anyway. 'When did—'
She shushed him, holding a hand up. 'Wait,' she said. 'Something's wrong. I think we have visitors.'
Thomas hadn't heard anything, and the other Gladers didn't seem to notice, either. But Jorge was already at Brenda's side, whispering something in her ear. She was just moving to stand up when a crash exploded down the hall—from the stairs they'd used to reach the stash. It was a horribly loud sound, the crumple and cracking of a structure falling apart, cement breaking, metal ripping. A cloud of dust fogged its way toward them, choking off the scant light from the food room.
Thomas sat and stared, paralyzed by fear. He could just see Minho and Newt and all the others running back toward the destroyed stairs, then turning down a branching hallway he hadn't noticed before. Brenda grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him to his feet.
'Run!' she screamed, and started dragging him away from the destruction and deeper into the underground.
Thomas snapped out of his stupor and swatted at her hand, though she didn't let go. 'No! We have to follow my fr—'
Before he could finish, an entire section of the roof came crashing down onto the floor in front of him, blocks of cement falling on top of each other with thunderous cracks. It cut him off from the direction his friends had taken. He heard more fracturing of rock above him and realized that he no longer had any choice—or any time.
Reluctantly he turned and ran with Brenda, her hand still clutching his shirt as they sprinted into the darkness.
CHAPTER 30
Thomas didn't notice his heart pounding, or have time to contemplate what could possibly have caused the explosion. All he could think about were the other Gladers, now separated from him. Blind, he ran with Brenda— forced to entrust his life to her completely.
'Here!' she yelled. They made a sharp turn to the right; he almost stumbled and fell but she helped him stay on his feet. Once he had a good pace, she finally let go of his shirt. 'Stick close to me.'
The sounds of destruction behind them faded as they ran down this new path, and panic lit up inside Thomas. 'What about my friends? What if—'
'Just keep going! Better for everyone to split up anyway.'
The air cooled as they moved farther down the long hallway. The darkness deepened. Thomas felt his strength slowly returning and he caught his breath quickly. Behind them, the noises had almost stopped. He worried about the Gladers, but instinct told him it was okay to stay with Brenda—that his friends would be able to fend for themselves if they'd gotten out. But what if some of them had been captured by whoever had set off the explosion? Or killed? And who had attacked them? Concern seemed to bleed his heart dry as they ran along.
Brenda took three more turns; Thomas had no idea how she could know where she was going. He was just about to ask when she stopped, putting a hand to his chest to hold him back.
'You hear anything?' she said through huffs.
Thomas listened, but all he heard was their own breathing. Everything else was silence and darkness. 'No,' he told her. 'Where are we?'
'A bunch of tunnels and secret passages connect the buildings on this side of town, maybe across the whole city—we haven't explored that far yet. They call it the Underneath.'
Thomas couldn't see her face, but she was close enough that he felt and smelled her breath. It didn't reek, which surprised him, considering her living conditions. It kind of had a non scent, somehow pleasant.
'The. Underneath?' he repeated. 'Sounds stupid.'
'Well, I didn't name it.'
'How much of it
'Not much. We usually run into Cranks. The really bad ones. Way past Gone.'
This made Thomas turn in a circle, searching the darkness for he didn't know what. His whole body tensed with fear as if he'd just jumped into ice water. 'Well... are we safe? What happened with that explosion, anyway? We need to go back and find my friends.'
'What about Jorge?'
'Huh?'
'Shouldn't we go find Jorge, too?'
Thomas hadn't meant to offend her. 'Yeah, Jorge, my friends, all those shanks. We can't leave them behind.' 'What's a shank?'
'Never mind. Just. . . what do you think happened back there?'
She sighed and stepped even closer to him, pressing her chest against his. He felt her lips brushing his ear as she spoke. 'I want you to promise me something.' She said it softly, in barely more than a whisper.
Chills broke out all over Thomas's body. 'Um . . . what?'
She didn't pull back, just kept speaking into his ear. 'No matter what happens, even if we have to go alone, you'll take me all the way back. All the way to WICKED, to that cure you promised Jorge—he told me about it in the storage room. I can't stay here and slowly go insane. I can't do it. I'd rather die.'
She grabbed both of his hands in hers, squeezed. Then she rested her head on his shoulder, her nose nestled against his neck—she had to be standing on the tips of her toes. Each breath from her sent a new wave of
