The Maze Runner by James Dashner Read Free Book Online Page A

time to jaw with you all day.”
    “But …” Thomas stopped when Alby’s eyebrows shot up. Why did the guy have to be such a jerk? “But tell me everything—I wanna know everything.” He’d decided the night before not to tell anyone else how strangely familiar the place seemed, the odd feeling that he’d been there before—that he could
remember
things about it. Sharing that seemed like a very bad idea.
    “I’ll tell ya what I wanna tell ya, Greenie. Let’s go.”
    “Can I come?” Chuck asked from the table.
    Alby reached down and tweaked the boy’s ear.
    “Ow!” Chuck shrieked.
    “Ain’t you got a job, slinthead?” Alby asked. “Lots of sloppin’ to do?”
    Chuck rolled his eyes, then looked at Thomas. “Have fun.”
    “I’ll try.” He suddenly felt sorry for Chuck, wished people would treat the kid better. But there was nothing he could do about it—it was time to go.
    He walked away with Alby, hoping the Tour had officially begun.

CHAPTER 7
    They started at the Box, which was closed at the moment—double doors of metal lying flat on the ground, covered in white paint, faded and cracked. The day had brightened considerably, the shadows stretching in the opposite direction from what Thomas had seen yesterday. He still hadn’t spotted the sun, but it looked like it was about to pop over the eastern wall at any minute.
    Alby pointed down at the doors. “This here’s the Box. Once a month, we get a Newbie like you, never fails. Once a
week
, we get supplies, clothes, some food. Ain’t needin’ a lot—pretty much run ourselves in the Glade.”
    Thomas nodded, his whole body itching with the desire to ask questions.
I need some tape to put over my mouth
, he thought.
    “We don’t know jack about the Box, you get me?” Alby continued. “Where it came from, how it gets here, who’s in charge. The shanks that sent us here ain’t told us nothin’. We got all the electricity we need, grow and raise most of our food, get clothes and such. Tried to send a slinthead Greenie back in the Box one time—thing wouldn’t move till we took him out.”
    Thomas wondered what lay under the doors when the Box wasn’t there, but held his tongue. He felt such a mixture of emotions—curiosity, frustration, wonder—all laced with the lingering horror of seeing the Griever that morning.
    Alby kept talking, never bothering to look Thomas in the eye. “Glade’s cut into four sections.” He held up his fingers as he counted off the next four words. “Gardens, Blood House, Homestead, Deadheads. You got that?”
    Thomas hesitated, then shook his head, confused.
    Alby’s eyelids fluttered briefly as he continued; he looked like he could think of a thousand things he’d rather be doing right then. He pointed to the northeast corner, where the fields and fruit trees were located. “Gardens—where we grow the crops. Water’s pumped in through pipes in the ground—always has been, or we’d have starved to death a long time ago. Never rains here. Never.” He pointed to the southeast corner, at the animal pens and barn. “Blood House—where we raise and slaughter animals.” He pointed at the pitiful living quarters. “Homestead—stupid place is twice as big than when the first of us got here because we keep addin’ to it when they send us wood and klunk. Ain’t pretty, but it works. Most of us sleep outside anyway.”
    Thomas felt dizzy. So many questions splintered his mind he couldn’t keep them straight.
    Alby pointed to the southwest corner, the forest area fronted with several sickly trees and benches. “Call that the Deadheads. Graveyard’s back in that corner, in the thicker woods. Ain’t much else. You can go there to sit and rest, hang out, whatever.” He cleared his throat, as if wanting to change subjects. “You’ll spend the next two weeks working one day apiece for our different job Keepers—until we know what you’re best at. Slopper, Bricknick, Bagger,