The Maze Runner Series Complete Collection (134 page)

“They’ll go to Alaska through that Flat Trans in Asheville,” the man said. “They’ll go to where the governments have gathered and make sure the world ends, even though that’s not their intent. They’ll carry on about finding an antidote and taking down the makeshift government. But all they’ll
really
do is spread the virus once and for all. Make sure they finish what the sun flares started. Fools, every last one of them.”

Anton collapsed back into a heap on the cot, and a few seconds later the sounds of his snores filled the room.

Mark and Alec sat in silence for a long time, listening to the wheezes and hitched breathing of Anton as he slept.

“I’m not sure we can trust much of what came out of this guy’s mouth,” Alec said after a while. “But I’m troubled, to say the least.”

“Yeah,” Mark responded flatly. His head was pounding and he felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so tired. But they had to get up, get out of that room, find Trina and the others.

He didn’t move.

“Boy, you look like a zombie,” Alec said after twisting to face him. “And I feel like one.”

“Yeah,” Mark said again.

“You’re not going to like what I’m about to say, but there’ll be no argument.”

Mark raised his eyebrows. Even that seemed to take all the energy he had. “And what’s that?”

“We need to sleep.”

“But … Trina … Lana …” He suddenly couldn’t remember the little girl’s name. Impossible. His head ached like a storm had erupted inside his skull.

Alec stood up. “We’re not going to do our friends a bit of good if we can’t function because we’re too tired. We’ll just catch a few winks. Maybe an hour each while the other keeps an eye out. Anton said his coworkers would be in some meeting for hours.” He got up from the
bed and walked quickly over to the door to the room, closed it, locked it. “Just to be safe.”

Mark slumped to his side, then slowly drew his legs up onto the cot. He folded his arms under his head. He wanted to protest but nothing came out.

Alec started talking again. “I’ll take first watch, so …”

But Mark fell asleep before he heard any more.

The dreams came. The memories. More vivid than ever before. As if the depth of his exhaustion had created the perfect canvas for them.

There’s that short moment that seems to last a lifetime when Mark sees the wall of water rushing down the steps of the subtrans station, like a stampede of white, frothy horses. He wonders a thousand things. How he got there. What’s happened above them in the city. Is his family dead. What does the future hold. What’s it like to drown.

All these thoughts storm through his mind in the one second it takes for the water to reach the bottom of the steps. Then someone is grabbing his arm, pulling him in the opposite direction, forcing his head to turn away from the oncoming disaster. He sees Trina, yanking on him as pure terror brightens her eyes in a sick way that snaps him into motion.

He breaks into an all-out run, this time grabbing
her
arm, making sure they stay together. Alec and Lana are right ahead of them, moving quickly, passing the thugs who accosted them, a thing that now seems so silly and outrageous it angers Mark all over again. The moment passes; he keeps running down the tunnel, Trina by his side. He shoots a quick glance backward, sees Baxter, Darnell, the Toad, Misty, all keeping up, their eyes painted with the same fear as Trina’s, the same fear that Mark feels himself.

There’s a great rushing sound in the air that takes Mark back to his family’s visit to Niagara Falls. People are screaming and things are breaking, glass shattering. Alec looks nothing like an old man as he sprints past the far edge of the station landing and slips back into the darkness of the train-sized tunnel. They can’t have much time, and Mark realizes with a
jolt of horror that he’s entrusted his entire life to the two people in front of him. That this is it. That he’ll be alive or dead within minutes.

Someone cries out behind him; then he’s hit hard in the shoulder, and he stumbles. He rights himself, letting go of Trina, who can’t stop her momentum and keeps rushing forward. Mark looks back and sees two things: Misty has fallen to the ground, and a surging pool of water is funneling down the tracks of the subtrans from the station. The deluge of water from the streets above is washing over the landing and spilling into the wide groove of the tunnel, and it’s just a few dozen feet away.

When it washes over Misty’s body, the flood is already inches deep. She pushes against the ground to get up. Mark is leaning forward to help when Misty suddenly screams and leaps to her feet as if the water carries an electric charge.

“It’s hot!” she yells as she reaches out and squeezes Mark’s hand.

They turn and begin running again, water now sloshing across their feet. It soaks through Mark’s shoes and socks, the bottom of his pants, and he feels its warmth, then its full heat. He jumps, like someone who has stepped into a bath with the temperature drawn too high. It’s unnerving, and hot enough to burn his skin.

The group continues to run down the tunnel, doing their best to slog through the rising river. It’s suddenly two feet high and Mark can’t believe how quickly it’s happened. It moves up past his knees and it’s coming faster now—he has to plant his feet more firmly to prevent them from being swept out from under him. He catches up with Trina, the others only a few feet ahead. They’re not running anymore. They’re struggling, using their whole bodies to push forward step by careful step. The water is almost to Mark’s upper thighs, and he knows the current is about to win the battle against all of them.

And it burns, scalding his skin. He itches from the pain of it.

“Right here!” Alec screams. Straining against the dirty, raging river,
fighting the current, he’s sloshed his way over to the left. There’s a short set of steps there, an iron railing on both sides. It leads up to a landing and a door. “We need to get up there!”

Mark is moving in that direction, planting his feet one at a time, reestablishing his position with every step. Trina is doing the same. Lana is already there. Baxter, Misty, Darnell and the Toad are all behind Mark, making their way as well. They can’t last much longer in the current. The roar of the water is deafening, broken only by Alec’s words and the screams from back in the station echoing down the walls of the tunnel. Those noises have decreased dramatically, and Mark knows why. Most of the people are dead.

As if the thought must be made real, a body bumps into Mark’s knee, then whips past in the river—a woman. Her face is the blue of death, framed by a floating mat of hair. She spins slowly as she rushes deeper into the black tunnel beyond. Then there are more. Some alive, most unmoving—probably dead, Mark realizes. The living are flailing their arms and legs, trying to swim or gain purchase on the ground. Mark has the fleeting thought that they should try to help them, reach for their hands. But it’s too late—they’ll be lucky to get themselves out.

Alec has reached the stairs, has grabbed the iron railing, takes two steps up. Mark moves another sluggish step forward; the water is up to his waist now. Burning, roasting. Alec leans down and helps Lana up the stairs. Then Trina makes it, grabs his hand. Up she goes. Mark is next. He takes the last tremulous step and he’s suddenly clasping forearms with the old man who keeps saving his life. His body jolts forward as Alec pulls him hard and he’s on the stairs, almost falling forward onto his face. Trina catches him, hugs him.

The Toad makes it, then Darnell, then Misty. All of them but Alec up the short flight of stairs and onto the landing, grouping together in front of the door. The younger boy, Baxter, is struggling. Mark’s suddenly
struck by shame as he realizes the kid’s still out there—he’s six feet beyond Alec’s reach, the water slamming into his side, rising and rising, splashing up into his frightened face.

Mark runs back down the stairs even as Trina is calling his name. He stands next to Alec, wonders what to do. Bodies are shooting past Baxter; Mark sees a stray foot smack the kid in the shoulder. A head bobs up out of the river right next to him, spewing water, then disappears back under.

“Take a step!” Alec screams at Baxter.

The boy responds, does as he’s told. Then takes another. He’s almost within reach now, but the water is beating at his back, making it seem impossible that he hasn’t been swept away yet.

Mark yells encouragement this time. “Just a couple more.”

Baxter moves forward and is suddenly off his feet, facedown. Alec jumps out at him, grabs the boy’s arm just as the current latches on to both of them, ready to yank them away into the darkness. Marks sees it all happen so fast, reacts before he has time to think. He grips the iron railing with his left hand and lunges forward with his right, grasping the sleeve of Alec’s shirt before he’s swept out of reach. The man’s hand comes up and grips Mark’s arm just as the material starts to rip.

Mark’s body is jerked into the current but he holds on to the railing; his body is pulled out and then to the side, slamming into the concrete wall next to the track. Alec and Baxter follow, their bodies linked. Mark feels as if his arm is about to be ripped from its socket, his muscles straining, screaming. He can only focus on not letting go to ignore the pain. Water rushes into his mouth and he spits it out. It tastes like dirt and oil and burns his tongue.

He feels hands grabbing his arm, gripping his shirt and elbow, pulling. From the other side he can tell that Alec is climbing him like a rope, using both hands. Which means Baxter must be gone. Mark can do nothing, his strength spent, every part of his body aching and burning.
He can only hold tight, keep the link intact. His head slips under the water and he closes his eyes, forces himself to resist the urge to suck in a breath that would kill him.

He loses all sense of movement. There is only water and heat and the rush of sound. And the pain, bursting through his body.

Then he breaks the surface, feels hands on his chest, under his arm. He’s being dragged backward up the stairs. Alec is right in front of him, having caught hold of the railing. Baxter is clasped tightly between the man’s legs, like the winning grip of a wrestling match. Even as Mark looks, Baxter’s face comes up and out of the river and the boy is breathing, spitting, screaming.

They made it. They all made it.

Soon they are on their feet, on the landing. All of them. The water has risen to the upper edge of the track’s groove and is beginning to spill onto the landing itself.

Alec is a man whose every inch speaks of exhaustion. Soaking wet, breathing deeply and raggedly. He lurches forward to the door, opens it. Mark has the thought that it could’ve been locked. Their story could’ve been over and done right then and there. But it’s open, and Alec swings it wide.

He motions for everyone to go through.

“Get ready to climb,” the old man says.

Mark woke up shivering in complete darkness.

His body was stiff; he shifted on the cot and it creaked as he tried to get comfortable, find a position in which his muscles didn’t ache. He heard Alec and Anton both snoring loudly. Alec obviously hadn’t lasted long at first watch.

Mark finally settled on his back. Sleep had officially washed away, and there was nothing to do but wait until his friend woke up. He’d let the man get as much rest as possible—they were probably going to need it.

The dream had seemed so vivid, so lifelike. His heart was still beating from the rush of the experience, like he’d just relived it for real. He could taste the foul water, feel the burns on his skin. He remembered the exhausting climb up the endless flight of stairs afterward, the winding, the dizzying back-and-forth. Sapped of strength and hurting from the water burn, he didn’t know how he’d kept up with the others. But up and up they’d gone as the water rose below them. He’d never forget the feeling of looking over the railing, down at the roiling, dirty liquid as it slowly ascended, thinking that his life had almost ended in its depths.

Alec had saved them that day. They’d spent the next two weeks in that skyscraper, realizing quickly that they couldn’t search for loved ones yet. The heat and radiation and rising waters were too much. That was when Mark’s hopes of ever finding his family had truly begun to fade.

The Lincoln Building. A place that held plenty of its own nightmares. They’d stayed as close to the center of the building as possible, in
the structure’s middle corridors, to protect themselves from the sun’s ruthless radiation. Even so, they’d all been a little sick those first few months.

He heard a groan from the direction of Alec’s cot, and the thoughts floated away, pushed to the back of his mind to torment him later. But that feeling of terror he’d experienced in those last moments in the subtrans tunnel wouldn’t leave, lingering like the smoke from an extinguished fire.

“Oh … crap,” Alec said.

Mark popped up onto his elbow, looking in the direction of his friend. “What?”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Fine soldier I am. And I left the damn workpad on. We can forget using that thing again.”

“Meh, the battery was probably almost dead anyway,” Mark said. Though in truth, he’d have given anything for five more minutes of the device’s glow right then.

Alec groaned and Mark heard the sounds of the cot creaking as the older man got to his feet.

“We need to go find this guy’s coworkers. He said they were meeting farther down in the bunker. So we need to find our way to some stairs,” the man said.

“What do we do about him?” Mark pointed to Anton, forgetting for a second that Alec couldn’t see him in the darkness.

“Let him sleep out his sorrows. Come on.”

Mark took a moment to get his bearings, then got up and felt his way to the end of the cot toward the middle aisle of the room.

“How long do you think we slept?” he asked.

“No idea,” Alec answered. “Maybe two hours?”

They spent the next few minutes slowly making their way through the room and out into the hallway. The light above the door still
sputtered a bit, but barely enough to see by. They eventually found the stairwell Alec had been hoping for. Even the dim sight of it, mostly lines and edges of shadow descending into blackness, brought back to Mark the memory of the flood and their mad clamber up the stairs of the skyscraper. It’d been so close that day. If he’d known all that would come after, would he still have fought so hard to survive?