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.