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- Джеймс Дэшнер
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- Стр. 313/344
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He
sprinted
ahead
,
pulling
Teresa
behind
him
,
Teresa
pulling
Chuck
behind
her
,
running
at
full
speed
,
spears
and
knives
cocked
for
battle
,
forward
into
the
bloody
,
scream-filled
hallway
of
stone
.
Toward
the
Cliff
.
War
raged
around
them
.
Gladers
fought
,
panic-induced
adrenaline
driving
them
on
.
The
sounds
echoing
off
the
walls
were
a
cacophony
of
terror
--
human
screams
,
metal
clashing
against
metal
,
motors
roaring
,
the
haunted
shrieks
of
the
Grievers
,
saws
spinning
,
claws
clasping
,
boys
yelling
for
help
.
All
was
a
blur
,
bloody
and
gray
and
flashes
of
steel
;
Thomas
tried
not
to
look
left
or
right
,
only
ahead
,
through
the
narrow
gap
formed
by
the
Gladers
.
Even
as
they
ran
,
Thomas
went
through
the
code
words
again
in
his
mind
.
FLOAT
,
CATCH
,
BLEED
,
DEATH
,
STIFF
,
PUSH
.
They
just
had
to
make
it
a
few
dozen
feet
more
.
Something
just
sliced
my
arm
!
Teresa
screamed
.
Even
as
she
said
it
,
Thomas
felt
a
sharp
stab
in
his
leg
.
He
did
n't
look
back
,
did
n't
bother
answering
.
The
seething
impossibility
of
their
predicament
was
like
a
heavy
deluge
of
black
water
flooding
around
him
,
dragging
him
toward
surrender
.
He
fought
it
,
pushed
himself
forward
.
There
was
the
Cliff
,
opening
out
into
a
gray-dark
sky
,
about
twenty
feet
away
.
He
surged
ahead
,
pulling
his
friends
.
Battles
clashed
on
both
sides
of
them
;
Thomas
refused
to
look
,
refused
to
help
.
A
Griever
spun
directly
in
his
path
;
a
boy
,
his
face
hidden
from
sight
,
was
clutched
in
its
claws
,
stabbing
viciously
into
the
thick
,
whalish
skin
,
trying
to
escape
.
Thomas
dodged
to
the
left
,
kept
running
.
He
heard
a
shriek
as
he
passed
by
,
a
throat-scorching
wail
that
could
only
mean
the
Glader
had
lost
the
fight
,
met
a
horrific
end
.
The
scream
ran
on
,
shattering
the
air
,
overpowering
the
other
sounds
of
war
,
until
it
faded
in
death
.
Thomas
felt
his
heart
tremble
,
hoped
it
was
n't
someone
he
knew
.
Just
keep
going
!
Teresa
said
.
"
I
know
!
"
Thomas
shouted
back
,
this
time
out
loud
.
Someone
sprinted
past
Thomas
,
bumped
him
.
A
Griever
charged
in
from
the
right
,
blades
twirling
.
A
Glader
cut
it
off
,
attacked
it
with
two
long
swords
,
metal
clacking
and
clanging
as
they
fought
.
Thomas
heard
a
distant
voice
,
screaming
the
same
words
over
and
over
,
something
about
him
.
About
protecting
him
as
he
ran
.
It
was
Minho
,
desperation
and
fatigue
radiant
in
his
shouts
.
Thomas
kept
going
.
