"Teresa," he whispered, knotting up inside. "What's wrong?"
She didn't respond, but her eyes flickered to the side, then back to him. A couple of tears trickled out, slipping down her cheeks, then falling to the floor. Her lips trembled even more, and her chest lurched with what could only be a stifled sob.
Thomas stepped forward, put his hands out to her.
"No!" she screamed. "Get away from me!"
Thomas stopped―it was like something massive had just slammed him in the gut. He held his hands up. "Okay, okay. Teresa, what ..." He didn't know what to say or ask. Didn't know what to do. But that terrible feeling of something breaking inside him intensified, threatened to choke him as it swelled in his throat.
He stilled, scared to set her off again. All he could do was lock eyes with her, try to communicate how he felt, beg her to tell him something. Anything.
A very long moment passed in silence. The way her body shook, the way she almost seemed to struggle against something unseen ... it reminded him of ...
It reminded him of how Gally had been acting, right after they'd escaped from the Glade and he'd entered the room with the woman in the white shirt. Right before everything had gone crazy. Right before he'd killed Chuck.
Thomas had to speak or he'd burst. "Teresa, I've thought about you every second since they took you away. You―"
She didn't let him finish. Rushing forward, she was in front of him in two long strides and reaching out, grabbing his shoulders and pulling herself close to him. Shocked, Thomas wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, embracing her so tightly he suddenly worried she couldn't breathe. Her hands found the back of his head, then the sides of his face, making him look at her.
And then they were kissing. Something exploded within his chest, burning away the tension and confusion and fear. Burning away the hurt of seconds earlier. For a moment it felt like nothing mattered anymore. Like nothing would matter ever again.
But then she pulled away. She stumbled backward until she hit the wall. The terror returned to her face, possessed it like a demon. And then she spoke, her voice a whisper but laced with urgency.
"Get away from me, Tom," she said. "All of you need to get ... away ... from me. Don't argue. Just leave. Run." Her neck tensed with the effort to get those last few words out.
Thomas had never hurt so badly. But he shocked himself by what he did next.
He knew her now, remembered her. And he knew that she was telling the truth―something wasn't right here. Something was terribly wrong―far worse than he'd first imagined. Staying, arguing with her, trying to force her to come with him would be a slap in the face to the incredible amount of willpower it must've taken her to break away and warn him. He had to do what she said.
"Teresa," he said. "I'll find you." Tears now welling in his own eyes, he turned from her and ran from the building.
CHAPTER 21
Thomas stumbled away from the now-dark building, squinting through tear-blurred eyes. He went back to the Gladers and refused to answer their questions. Told them they had to go, run, get away as fast as possible. That he'd explain later. That their lives were in danger.
He didn't wait for them. He didn't offer to take the pack from Aris. He just started toward the town, sprinting till he finally had to slow down to a manageable pace, blocking the others out, blocking the whole world out. Running away from her was the hardest thing he'd ever done, he had no doubt of it. Showing up at the Glade with his memories wiped, adapting to life there, being trapped in the Maze, fighting Grievers, watching Chuck die―none of it matched what he felt now.
She was there. She'd been in his arms. They'd been together again.
They'd kissed and he'd felt something he would've thought impossible.
And now he was running away. Leaving her behind.
Choked sobs burst from him. He groaned, heard the miserable sound of his voice crack. His heart felt a pain that almost made him stop, collapse to the ground and give up. Sorrow consumed him, and more than once he was tempted to go back. But somehow he held true to what she'd ordered him to do, and he held on to the promise he'd made to find her again.
At least she was alive. At least she was alive.
That was what he kept telling himself. That was what kept him running.
She was alive.
His body could only take so much. At some point, maybe two hours after he'd left her, maybe three, he stopped, sure his heart would explode out of his chest if he went one more step. Turning, he looked behind him and he saw shadows moving far in the distance―the other Gladers, way back. Breathing huge gulps of dry air, Thomas knelt, planted his forearms on one knee, then closed his eyes to rest until they caught up.
Minho reached him first, and their leader wasn't happy. Even in the faint light―dawn was just starting to brighten the eastern sky―he visibly fumed as he walked around Thomas three full times before he said anything.
"What ... Why ... What kind of a shuck idiot are you, Thomas?"
Thomas didn't feel like talking about it. About anything.
When he didn't answer, Minho knelt down next to him. "How could you do that? How could you just come out of there and take off like that? Without explaining anything? Since when is that how we do things? You slinthead." He let out a big sigh and fell back to sit on his butt, shaking his head.
"Sorry," Thomas finally muttered. "It was kinda traumatizing."
The other Gladers had reached them by now, half of them doubling over to catch their breaths, the other half pressing in to hear what Thomas and Minho were talking about. Newt was right there, but he seemed content to let Minho do all the digging to find out what had happened.