He wanted to believe it. The guy had been fully gone, consumed by the Flare. He probably would've died soon anyway. Not to mention he'd been doing everything possible to hurt them. To kill them. Thomas had done the right thing. But guilt still gnawed at him, crept through his bones. Killing another human. It wasn't easy to accept.
"I know," he finally responded. "But it was so ... vicious. So brutal. I wish I could've just shot him from a distance with a gun or something."
"Yeah. Sorry it had to go down that way."
"What if I see his nasty face every night when I go to sleep? What if he's in my dreams?" He felt a surge of irritation at Brenda for making him stab the Crank―maybe unwarranted when he really considered how desperate they'd been.
Brenda shifted in her seat to face him. Moonlight illuminated her just enough that he could see her dark eyes, her dirty but pretty face. Maybe it was bad, maybe he was a jerk. But looking at her made him want Teresa back.
Brenda reached out, took his hand and squeezed it. He let her, but he didn't squeeze back.
"Thomas?" She said his name even though he was looking right at her.
"Yeah?"
"You didn't just save your own skin, ya know. You saved mine, too. I don't think I could've beaten that Crank by myself."
Thomas nodded but didn't say anything. He hurt inside for so many reasons. All his friends were gone. Dead, for all he knew. Chuck was definitely dead. Teresa was lost to him. He was only halfway to the safe haven, sleeping in a truck with a girl who would eventually go crazy, and they were surrounded by a city full of bloodthirsty Cranks.
"You asleep with your eyes open?" she asked him.
Thomas tried to smile. "No. Just thinking about how much my life sucks."
"Mine does, too. Sucks big-time. But I'm glad I'm with you."
The statement was so simple and so sweet it made Thomas close his eyes, squeeze them shut. All the pain inside him transformed into something for Brenda, almost like what he'd felt for Chuck. He hated the people who'd done this to her, hated the disease that had made all this happen, and he wanted to make it right.
He finally looked at her again. "I'm glad, too. Being alone would suck even worse."
"They killed my dad."
Thomas lifted his head, surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. "What?"
Brenda nodded slowly. "WICKED. He tried to stop them from taking me, screamed like a lunatic as he attacked them with ... I think it was a wooden rolling pin." She let out a small laugh. "Then they shot him in the head." Tears glistened in her eyes, sparkling in the faint light.
"You're serious?"
"Yeah. I saw it happen. Saw the life go out of him before he even hit the floor."
"Oh, man." Thomas searched for words. "I'm really ... sorry. I saw maybe my best friend in the world get stabbed. He died right in my arms." He paused again. "What about your mom?"
"She hadn't been around for a long time." She didn't elaborate, and Thomas didn't push. Didn't really want to know.
"I'm so scared of going crazy," she said after a long minute of silence. "I can already feel it happening. Things look weird, sound weird. Out of the blue I'll start thinking about stuff that doesn't make any sense. Sometimes the air around me feels ... hard. I don't even know what that means, but it's scary. I'm definitely starting. The Flare's taking my brain to hell."
Thomas couldn't handle the look in her eyes; he let his gaze drop to the floor. "Don't give up yet. We'll make it to the safe haven, get the cure."
"False hope," she said. "Guess that's better than no hope at all."
She squeezed his hand. This time, Thomas squeezed back.
And then, impossibly, they slept.
CHAPTER 35
A nightmare woke Thomas―something about Minho and Newt being cornered by a bunch of Cranks past the Gone. Cranks with knives. Angry Cranks. The first spill of blood finally jerked Thomas awake.
He looked around, scared that he'd yelled or said something. The cab of the truck still lay in the darkness of night―he could barely see Brenda, couldn't even tell if her eyes were open. But then she spoke.
"Bad dream?"
Thomas settled himself, closed his eyes. "Yeah. I can't quit worrying about my other friends. I just hate it so bad that we were separated."
"I'm sorry that happened. I really am." She shifted in her seat. "But I seriously don't think you need to worry. Your Glader buddies seemed capable enough, but even if they weren't―Jorge is one tough monkey. He'll get them through the city just fine. Don't waste the stress on your heart. We're the ones you should be worried about."
"You're doing a terrible job of making me feel better."
Brenda laughed. "Sorry―I was smiling when I said that last part, but you couldn't see me, I guess."
Thomas looked at his backlit watch, then said, "We still have a few hours before the sun comes up."
After a short silence, Thomas spoke again. "Tell me a little bit more about what life's like now. They took most of our memories―some of mine came back, but they're sketchy and I don't know if I can trust them. There isn't much there about the outside world, either."
Brenda sighed deeply. "The outside world, huh? Well, it sucks. The temperatures are finally starting to go down, but it'll be forever before the sea levels do the same. It's been a long time since the flares, but so many people died, Thomas. So many. It's actually kind of amazing how everyone who survived stabilized and civilized so quickly. If it weren't for the stupid Flare, I think the world would pull through in the long run. But if wishes were fishes ... oh, I can't remember. Something my dad used to say."