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 nonscent, somehow pleasant.

"The Underneath?" he repeated. "Sounds stupid."

"Well, I didn't name it."

"How much of it have you explored?" He didn't like the idea of running around down there without knowing what was ahead.

"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 chills across his skin.

Thomas was enjoying her being so close, but it seemed so bizarre and out of the blue. Then he had a surge of guilt, thinking of Teresa. All this was stupid. He was in the middle of a brutal and ruthless attempt to make it across a wasteland, his life on the line, his friends maybe dead. Teresa could even be dead. To sit here and cuddle with some strange girl in the dark was about the most absurd thing he could think of.

"Hey," he said. He wiggled his hands from her grip and grabbed her upper arms, pushed her away. He still couldn't see anything, but he imagined her there, looking at him. "Don't you think we need to figure things out?"

"You still haven't promised me," she replied.

Thomas wanted to scream, couldn't believe how strange she was acting. "Fine, I promise. Did Jorge tell you everything?"

"Mostly, I think. Though I'd already guessed it the second he told our group to go on without us and meet at the Tower."

"Guessed what?"

"That we were going to help you get through the city in exchange for you taking us back to civilization."

This made Thomas worry. "If you came up with that so quickly, don't you think some of your friends did, too?"

"Exactly."

"What do you mean exactly? Sounds like you figured something out."

She reached out and placed her hands on his chest. "I think that's what happened. At first I worried it was a group of longer-gone Cranks, but since no one chased us, I think Barkley and a couple of his buddies rigged an explosion at the Underneath entrance, tried to kill us. They know they can get plenty of food somewhere else, and there're other ways to get down here."

Thomas still didn't understand why she was being so touchy with him. "That doesn't make sense. I mean, kill us? Wouldn't they want to use us, too? Come with us?"

"No, no, no. Barkley and the others are happy here. I think they're a little more gone than we are, starting to lose their rational sides. I doubt the idea even occurred to them. I bet they just thought we were all gonna gang up and ... eliminate them. That we were making plans down here."

Thomas let go of her, leaned his head back against the wall. She pressed in again and wrapped her arms around his middle.

"Uh ... Brenda?" he asked. Something wasn't right with this girl.

"Yeah?" she mumbled against his chest.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you think it's a little weird how you're acting?"

She laughed, such an unexpected sound that Thomas thought for a second she'd succumbed to the Flare―become a full-blown Crank or something. She pulled away from him, still chuckling.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said through a schoolgirl snicker. "Guess we came from different places, that's all. Sorry."

"What do you mean?" He suddenly found himself wishing she'd hug him again.

"Don't worry about it," she said, her merriment at his expense finally subsiding. "Sorry for being so forward. It's just ... pretty normal where I come from."

"No ... it's okay. I ... I mean, good that. I'm good." He was glad she couldn't see his face, because it must've burned so red she'd start laughing all over again.

He thought of Teresa then. He thought of Minho and the others. He had to take control. Now.

"Look, you said it yourself," he said, trying to pump confidence into his voice. "No one chased us. We need to go back."

"Are you sure?" She had a suspicious tone.

"What do you mean?"

"I could get you through the city. Find enough food to take with us. Why don't we leave all of them? Make it to this safe haven place on our own?"

Thomas wasn't going to have this conversation. "If you won't come back with me, fine. But I'm going." He put his hand against the wall to guide himself and started walking in the direction from which they'd fled.

"Wait!" she called out, then caught up to him. She grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers, now walking alongside him, hand in hand like old lovers. "I'm sorry. Really. I just ... I think it would be easier to make it through with fewer people. I'm not really great friends with any of those Cranks. Not like you and your ... Gladers."

Had he said that word around her? He didn't remember, but anybody could've at some point without his noticing. "I really think as many of us as possible need to make it to the safe haven. Even if we do get past the city, who knows what'll be next. Maybe then we'll really want numbers."

He thought about what he'd just said. Did he really only care about having numbers in the end so they'd have a better chance to be safe? Was he really that detached?

"Okay" was all she said in response. Something had changed in her. She seemed less confident. Less in charge.

Thomas took his hand from her grip, coughing into it as an excuse. He didn't reach out for her again when he finished.

They didn't talk for the next few minutes. He followed her, sensing her even though he still couldn't see. After several turns, a light appeared up ahead, brightening quickly as they approached.

It turned out to be sunlight, pouring down from jagged holes in the roof―the aftermath of the explosion. Massive chunks of rock and twisted pieces of steel and broken pipes blocked the way to where the stairs had been―and it looked like climbing over the wreckage would be dangerous. A haze of dust clouded everything, making the rays of sunshine appear thick and alive, motes dancing like gnats. The air smelled of plaster and something burnt.

They were also blocked from the stash room with all that food, but Brenda found the two backpacks she'd brought out earlier.

"Doesn't look like anybody's here," she said. "They didn't come back. Jorge and your friends might've even gotten back up and outside somehow."

Thomas didn't really know what he'd been hoping to find, but at least one piece of good news was obvious. "No bodies, though, right? No one died in the explosion?"

Brenda shrugged. "Cranks could've dragged their bodies off. But I doubt it. No point."

Thomas nodded, as if solidifying her statement, holding on to it. But he had no idea what to do next. Did they go through the tunnels―the Underneath―searching for the other Gladers? Did they go out into the streets? Back to the building where they'd ditched Barkley and the others? Every idea sounded horrible. He looked around, as if the answer would magically present itself.

"We have to go through the Underneath," Brenda announced after a long moment; she'd probably been contemplating their options just like Thomas. "If the others went up top, then they'll be long gone by now. Plus, they'll pull any attention toward themselves and away from us."

"And if they're down here we'll find them, right?" Thomas asked. "These tunnels all come back together eventually, right?"

"Right. Either way, I know Jorge will have them moving toward the other side of the city, toward the mountains. We just have to make it so we can meet up and keep going."

Thomas looked at Brenda, thinking. Maybe only pretending to think, because he really had no option than to stick with her. She was probably his best―maybe only―bet of accomplishing anything other than a quick and horrible death at the hands of long-gone Cranks. What else could he do?

"Okay," he said. "Let's go."

She smiled, a sweet smile that shone through the grime on her face, and Thomas unexpectedly longed for that moment they'd had in the darkness together. Almost as quickly as his thought formed, though, it was gone. Brenda handed him one of the backpacks, then reached into hers and pulled out a flashlight, clicked it on. The beam shot through the dust as she shone it this way and that, finally aiming it down the long tunnel they'd already been down twice.

"Shall we?" she asked.

"We shall," Thomas muttered. He still felt sick about his friends, and he wondered if he was doing the right thing sticking with Brenda.

But when she started walking, he followed.

CHAPTER 31

The Underneath was a dank, miserable place. Thomas almost preferred the utter darkness to being able to see what was around him. The walls and floors were dull gray, nothing more than painted concrete, streaks of water trickling down the sides here and there. They passed a door every few dozen feet, but most of them were locked when he tried them. Dust coated the long-dark light fixtures on the ceiling, at least half of them busted, jagged glass screwed into rusty holes.

All in all, the place had the feel of a haunted tomb. The Underneath was as good a name as any. He wondered what the underground structure had been built for in the first place. Walkways and offices for who knew what kinds of jobs? Paths between buildings on rainy days? Emergency routes? Escape routes for things like massive sun flares and attacks from crazy people?

They didn't talk much as he followed Brenda through tunnel after tunnel, sometimes turning left at intersections or forks, sometimes turning right. His body quickly consumed any energy provided by his recent binge, and after walking for what felt like several hours he finally convinced her to stop and eat another meal.

"I'm assuming you know where we're going," he said to her when they set off again. Everything they passed looked exactly the same to him. Drab and dark. Dusty, where it wasn't wet. The tunnels were silent but for the distant drops of water and the swishing of their clothes as they walked. Their footsteps, dull thumps on the concrete.

She suddenly stopped and whirled on him, shining the light on her face from below. "Boo," she whispered.

Thomas jumped, then pushed her away. "Cut that crap," he yelled. He felt like an idiot―his heart had just about exploded from fright. "Makes you look like a. ..."

She let the flashlight fall to her side, but her eyes remained locked on his. "Look like a what?"

"Nothing."

"A Crank?"

The word cut to Thomas's heart. He didn't want to think of her that way. "Well ... yeah," he murmured. "Sorry."

She turned from him and started walking again, her light shining forward. "I am a Crank, Thomas. Got the Flare, I'm a Crank. You are, too."

He had to run a few steps to catch up with her. "Yeah, but you're not full gone yet. And ... me neither, right? We'll get the cure before we go nuts." The Rat Man had better have been telling the truth.