• Trial Two: The Scorch •
||𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃|| Blake is cracking like the stone walls she had escaped from. Each lie, betrayal, challenge, and death pushes her into a deeper hole of emptiness. Blake and the Gladers thought they escaped from the madnes...
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11. "Good that. We're all here, wherever here is. Can't see a shuck thing," Minho said after twenty-two was called.
Blake moved her eyes, scanning the never-ending darkness. She couldn't tell what was an inch from her face. The thought of something creeping in the darkness made her arms feel bloodless. Made her stomach drop. She gripped Minho's arm tighter.
"Too bad we don't have a flashlight," Thomas said.
"Thanks for stating the obvious, Mr. Thomas," Minho replied, blankly. She felt his body shift slightly. "All right, listen up. We're in some kind of hallway―I can feel the walls on both sides, and as far as I can tell, most of you are to my right. Thomas, where you're standing is where we came in. We better not take any chances of accidentally going back through the Flat Trans thingamajiggy, so everyone follow my voice and come toward me. Not much choice but to head down this way and see what we find."
Then Minho started moving, Blake trailing beside him. She clenched the sleeve of his shirt, feeling the texture of cotton against her fingertips. The tap of shuffling feet and the scrapes of packs against their bodies followed them along the dim hallway. Minho leaned his shoulder against the wall using it as his guide.
The hall's cool air moved with the clank of footsteps, and with the smell of a dusty leather dew. The darkness acting as their progressing guide and their now blindness. It went on without a turn, just a straight line into never-ending blackness.
Then, a sudden burst of intense whispering filled the tunnel coming from above. Minho halted, turning his head to shout for the others to do the same and stop. "Did you guys hear that?"
Blake tilted her head up, stomach twisting with the surrounding eeriness. Many Gladers murmured yeses and started asking questions. The flash of whispering had been quick, too quick. The voice was a croak, just a few short words.
Minho shushed everyone again, telling them to listen.
Less than a minute passed before the same croaking voice whispered harshly once more, their voice echoing through the air like a large wave. Gasps filled the darkness. Blake was able to make out one word. The word floated in her imagination, its bring left her with a tingly feeling, similar to colors. The feeling was like splotches of crimson red and creeping black.
The single word she made out was 'back'. The voice had said the final 'k' with a long hiss, accentuating the already chilling feeling inside Blake.
"Did anybody get what it said?" Newt called out.
"Couple of words," Winston replied. "Sounded like "go back' right in the middle."
"Yeah, it did," someone agreed.
"That's just great," Blake murmured, goosebumps slithering up her arm.
"Everybody slim it and listen real hard this time," Minho announced. The dark hallway lapsed into silence.
