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- Джеймс Дэшнер
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- Бегущий в лабиринте
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- Стр. 324/344
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"
Look
!
"
someone
shouted
,
but
he
'd
already
seen
it
,
his
breath
catching
in
his
throat
.
Goose
bumps
broke
out
all
over
him
,
a
creepy
fear
trickling
down
his
spine
like
a
wet
spider
.
Directly
in
front
of
them
,
a
row
of
twenty
or
so
darkly
tinged
windows
stretched
across
the
compound
horizontally
,
one
after
the
other
Behind
each
one
,
a
person
--
some
men
,
some
women
,
all
of
them
pale
and
thin
--
sat
observing
the
Gladers
,
staring
through
the
glass
with
squinted
eyes
.
Thomas
shuddered
,
terrified
--
they
all
looked
like
ghosts
.
Angry
,
starving
,
sinister
apparitions
of
people
who
'd
never
been
happy
when
alive
,
much
less
dead
.
But
Thomas
knew
they
were
not
,
of
course
,
ghosts
.
They
were
the
people
who
'd
sent
them
all
to
the
Glade
.
The
people
who
'd
taken
their
lives
away
from
them
.
The
Creators
.
Thomas
took
a
step
backward
,
noticing
others
doing
the
same
.
A
deathly
silence
sucked
the
life
out
of
the
air
as
every
last
Glader
stared
at
the
row
of
windows
,
at
the
row
of
observers
.
Thomas
watched
one
of
them
look
down
to
write
something
,
another
reach
up
and
put
on
a
pair
of
glasses
.
They
all
wore
black
coats
over
white
shirts
,
a
word
stitched
on
their
right
breast
--
he
could
n't
quite
make
out
what
it
said
.
None
of
them
wore
any
kind
of
discernible
facial
expression
--
they
were
all
sallow
and
gaunt
,
miserably
sad
to
look
upon
.
They
continued
to
stare
at
the
Gladers
;
a
man
shook
his
head
,
a
woman
nodded
.
Another
man
reached
up
and
scratched
his
nose
--
the
most
human
thing
Thomas
had
seen
any
of
them
do
.
"
Who
are
those
people
?
"
Chuck
whispered
,
but
his
voice
echoed
throughout
the
chamber
with
a
raspy
edge
.
"
The
Creators
,
"
Minho
said
;
then
he
spat
on
the
floor
.
"
I
'm
gon
na
break
your
faces
!
"
he
screamed
,
so
loudly
Thomas
almost
held
his
hands
over
his
ears
.
"
What
do
we
do
?
"
Thomas
asked
.
"
What
are
they
waiting
on
?
"
