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- Джеймс Дэшнер
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You
can
do
this
,
he
thought
.
Just
make
it
to
that
Hole
.
Thomas
kept
a
steady
pace
as
he
ran
with
the
other
Gladers
along
the
stone
pathways
toward
the
Cliff
.
He
'd
grown
used
to
running
the
Maze
,
but
this
was
completely
different
.
The
sounds
of
shuffling
feet
echoed
up
the
walls
and
the
red
lights
of
the
beetle
blades
flashed
more
menacingly
in
the
ivy
--
the
Creators
were
certainly
watching
,
listening
.
One
way
or
another
,
there
was
going
to
be
a
fight
.
Scared
?
Teresa
asked
him
as
they
ran
.
No
,
I
love
things
made
out
of
blubber
and
steel
.
Ca
n't
wait
to
see
them
.
He
felt
no
mirth
or
humor
and
wondered
if
there
'd
ever
be
a
time
again
when
he
would
.
So
funny
,
she
responded
.
She
was
right
next
to
him
,
but
his
eyes
stayed
glued
up
ahead
.
We
'll
be
fine
.
Just
stay
close
to
me
and
Minho
.
Ah
,
my
Knight
in
Shining
Armor
.
What
,
you
do
n't
think
I
can
fend
for
myself
?
Actually
,
he
thought
quite
the
opposite
--
Teresa
seemed
as
tough
as
anybody
there
.
No
,
I
'm
just
trying
to
be
nice
.
The
group
was
spread
out
across
the
full
width
of
the
corridor
,
running
at
a
steady
but
quick
pace
--
Thomas
wondered
how
long
the
non-Runners
would
hold
up
.
As
if
in
response
to
the
thought
,
Newt
fell
back
,
finally
tapping
Minho
on
the
shoulder
.
"
You
lead
the
way
now
,
"
Thomas
heard
him
say
.
Minho
nodded
and
ran
to
the
front
,
guiding
the
Gladers
through
all
the
turns
necessary
.
Every
step
was
agonizing
for
Thomas
.
What
courage
he
'd
gathered
had
turned
to
dread
,
and
he
wondered
when
the
Grievers
would
finally
give
chase
.
Wondered
when
the
fight
would
begin
.
