Subject A3: The Carrier 》Scorch Trials (TMR)

Eight

What the hell is this?

The moment I laid my hands on the ball, the boy stopped moving. His arms and legs stopped. I felt something wet hit my hand where his neck should be. Oh, god, he's got no head. The metal ball rolled away from the boy. The smell of copper filled my nose. I let out a small gag before I covered my nose with my arm. I think I'm going to be sick.

The Gladers started firing questions at Thomas and me while we backed away. Shuck. Shuck, shuck, shuck, shuck. I wiped the blood off my hands. Someone ran next to me and the next thing I knew there was a thud. My eyes widen when I saw Thomas gasping for air by the wall.

Minho pushed himself in front of the group. "Thomas! Tiger! What happened?"

Thomas' eyes was still wide. My stomach tightened as I tried to regain my breath. "Who was that?" I asked as I pointed to the body.

Frypan answered in a shaky voice. "Frankie, I think. He was right next to me, just making a joke, and then it was like something yanked him away. Yeah, it was him. Definitely him."

I covered my mouth. "Oh, my god." I remember Frankie. He was always shoving chopsticks up his nose and making noises while he clapped his hands."

"What happened?" Minho repeated.

Thomas let out a breath before speaking. "I don't know. I heard him screaming and ran up here to help. I jumped on him, tried to pin his arms down, find out what's wrong. Then I reached for his head to grab him by the cheeks - I don't know why - and all I felt was...."

"What?"

"His head wasn't there," I mumbled. "It was just this big metal ball. The ball had Frankie's head. It ate his shuck head."

Minho furrowed his eyebrows. "What're you talking about?"

"Didn't you guys hear a metal ball roll away after the scream?" Thomas nodded his head in agreement. "Look, out of all the things we've faced, this had got to be -"

"It's right here!" I heard Newt shout. My eyes widen as I tried to look for him when I heard him grunt. "I heard it roll over here. And it's all wet and sticky - feels like blood."

"Newt, get away from it!"

He ignored me. "It's bigger than a buggin' head for sure. It's perfectly round - a perfect sphere."

Thomas and I shared the same scared look. We have to get out of here, away from that thing. We have to get away from the dark. "Newt, put that thing down!" I yelled.

"We need to run," Thomas added. "We need to go. Now."

"Maybe we should go back," One of the Gladers said. "Whatever that ball thing is, it sliced off Frankie's head, just like the old shank warned us."

"No way," Minho responded angrily. "No way. Thomas is right. No more dinkin' around. Spread out a couple of feet from each other, then run. Hunch down, and if something comes near your head, hit the living crap out of it."

I'm glad no one argued. I don't care if I have to hop on one leg and caw like a chicken, we need to get out of here. Away from that death ball. I grabbed my food and water before I made my way back towards Newt. I sighed in relief when he didn't have that ball. He grabbed my hand and we started running.

》》》》

Two more of us died during that run. The death ball followed us and picked us off one by one. We didn't dare to look back. If we look back, we could be that ball's next meal. I tried to ignore the Glader's scream. It was the same thing over and over again. We would run, someone would scream, then we hear a loud thud followed by the ball rolling away.