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- Джеймс Дэшнер
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- Стр. 288/344
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"
So
where
is
it
?
"
Newt
asked
,
leaning
forward
in
his
chair
.
"
Over
the
Cliff
,
"
Thomas
answered
.
"
We
have
to
go
through
the
Griever
Hole
.
"
Alby
stood
up
so
quickly
his
chair
fell
over
backward
.
His
bloodshot
eyes
stood
out
against
the
white
bandage
on
his
forehead
.
He
took
two
steps
forward
before
stopping
,
as
if
he
'd
been
about
to
charge
and
attack
Thomas
.
"
Now
you
're
being
a
shuck
idiot
,
"
he
said
,
glaring
at
Thomas
.
"
Or
a
traitor
.
How
can
we
trust
a
word
you
say
if
you
helped
design
this
place
,
put
us
here
!
We
ca
n't
handle
one
Griever
on
our
own
ground
,
much
less
fight
a
whole
horde
of
them
in
their
little
hole
.
What
are
you
really
up
to
?
"
Thomas
was
furious
.
"
What
am
I
up
to
?
Nothing
!
Why
would
I
make
all
this
up
?
"
Alby
's
arms
stiffened
,
fists
clenched
.
"
For
all
we
know
you
were
sent
here
to
get
us
all
killed
.
Why
should
we
trust
you
?
"
Thomas
stared
,
incredulous
.
"
Alby
,
do
you
have
a
short-term
memory
problem
?
I
risked
my
life
to
save
you
out
in
the
Maze
--
you
'd
be
dead
if
it
was
n't
for
me
!
"
"
Maybe
that
was
a
trick
to
gain
our
trust
.
If
you
're
in
league
with
the
shucks
who
sent
us
here
,
you
would
n't
have
had
to
worry
about
the
Grievers
hurting
you
--
maybe
it
was
all
an
act
.
"
Thomas
's
anger
lessened
slightly
at
that
,
turned
into
pity
.
Something
was
odd
here
--
suspicious
.
"
Alby
,
"
Minho
finally
interjected
,
relieving
Thomas
.
"
That
's
about
the
dumbest
theory
I
've
ever
heard
.
He
just
about
got
freaking
torn
apart
three
nights
ago
.
You
think
that
's
part
of
the
act
?
"
