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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.
The next time the voice spoke, Blake made every word out...
"One-chance deal. Go back now, you won't be sliced."
Judging by the reactions behind her, everyone else got it this time, too.
"Won't be sliced?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"He said we can go back!"
"We can't trust some random shank whispering in the dark."
Sliced. Blake couldn't help but think of Hawk. She felt sick.
"Just keep going!" he shouted up to Minho. "I can't take this much longer. Just go!"
"Wait a minute." Frypan's voice. "The voice said this was a one-chance deal. We have to at least think about it."
"Yeah," someone added. "Maybe we should go back."
"No way. Remember what that guy at the desk told us. That we'd all die horrible deaths if we go back," Thomas replied.
Frypan pushed. "Well, what makes him any more in charge than this whispering dude? How're we supposed to know who to listen to and who to ignore?"
"The voice is just a test, I bet. We need to keep going," Thomas finished.
"It's your call, Mr. Leader," Blake whispered to Minho.
"He's right," Minho answered. "Come on, let's go."
He'd barely finished the last word when the whispering voice whooshed through the air once more, this time with a sort of glossy angry tone. "You're all dead. You're all going to be sliced. Dead and sliced."
No one said a word. Blake gripped Minho's arm tighter as they moved onwards. They made their way deeper into the never-ending darkness. The air warmed a bit, seeming to thicken with dust.
"Do you think they were just trying to fool us?" Blake asked in a whisper to Minho.
"Or..." her voice trailed off.
"As Thomas said, it's just a trick," Minho whispered back. "Or that shuck-face is just plain crazy. Wouldn't surprise me either way."
"I hope you're right..."
Minho moved his arm, grabbing Blake's hand from his sleeve. Giving it a comforting squeeze. "Hey. Just don't think about it."
"Harder said than done," Blake mumbled.
"What happened to Miss Positive?" Minho joked.
Blake rolled her eyes even though she knew he couldn't see. She tried to muster a similar response as she asked, "What happened to Mr. Toughie?"
"What do you mean? I have a shucking tattoo that says I'm the Leader. I say I'm pretty tough."
"I mean, you are being nice? The hand holding, the encouragement. What happened to you?" Blake mumbled, genuinely confused.
"I guess I wanted to be the unpredictable one," he responded. "And besides I have someone to push in front of me if one of those crazy people come."
"You're hilarious," Blake rolled her eyes once more.
"I know. It is a pretty good quality to have," Minho said, amused. "You know, Blake. You-"
Out of nowhere, a shrieking scream echoed a few dozen feet behind them.
The boy's screams escalated with pure terror, filling the darkness. Their voice was raw as they thrashed against the pavement. Blake automatically started moving, but her body was pulled back by Minho. He squeezed her hand tighter, pulling her back. The darkness floated with alarmed whispering.
"Hey! Whoever you are; help me with his limbs!" Blake sensed the voice of Toby "I was a healer in my Maze, I might be able to help him!"
She heard the rustling of movement. The inhuman noises from the panic Glader changed in volume as someone tried to keep their limbs down.
"Hey!" This was Thomas. "What's wrong with you?"
She heard a thump and a grunt, then more rusting.
"Stop it!" Thomas shouted. "What's wrong!"
The screams gurgled to a stop, almost like the kid had just been pulled underwater.
"What the heck...Oh my god, oh my god!" She heard Toby scream.
"What's wrong!" Blake yelled at Toby.
He didn't answer as a hollow grating sound thumped into the closest wall and came to a stop. The other Gladers started to shout questions.
Suddenly, Thomas started to scream. Rusting of a body moving ranged the walls. Toby shouted as well with words 'oh my god' or 'no' in between.
"Thomas, Toby!" Minho's voice. "Thomas! What happened?"
"I ... I don't know. Who was that? Who was down there screaming?" Thomas cried.
Winston answered, his voice shaky. "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."
Blake had remembered Frankie from when the map room caught on fire, but she never truly knew the guy.
"What happened!" Minho repeated.
"Look," he said before taking a long breath. "I heard him screaming, and ran up here to help. I jumped on him, tried to pin his arms down, find out what was wrong. Then I reached for his head to grab him by the cheeks―I don't even know why―and all I felt was ..."
"What?" Minho shouted.
Toby answered. "We didn't feel a head, that's for sure. It was gone. All of it. His head It was like ah-a...um huge...metal ball!"
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I updated! Finally. Super sorry for the huge wait, I just haven't been in the writing mood lately but I finally got myself to writing. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! And Happy Halloween!!
Marie.