In the Slammer, Where Thomas Talks to Chuck, What Does He Promise Him?

The Maze Runner - Chapter thirty

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The Slammer stood in an obscure place between the Homestead and the north Glade wall, hidden behind
thorny, ragged bushes that looked like they hadn't been trimmed in ages. Information technology was a big block of roughly cut
concrete, with 1 tiny, barred window and a wooden door that was locked with a menacing rusty metallic
latch, similar something out of the Nighttime Ages.
Newt took out a key and opened it up, and then motioned for Thomas to enter. "At that place's only a chair in there
and nothin' at all for ya to do. Savour yourself."
Thomas groaned inwardly as he stepped inside and saw the one piece of furniture—an ugly, rickety
chair with one leg obviously shorter than the rest, probably on purpose. Didn't fifty-fifty have a absorber.
"Have fun," Newt said before endmost the door. Thomas turned dorsum to his new home and heard the
latch close and the lock click behind him. Newt's caput appeared at the little glassless window, looking
through the bars, a smirk on his confront. "Nice reward for breakin' the rules. You saved some lives, Tommy,
but ya still need to learn—"
"Yeah, I know. Order."
Newt smiled. "You're not half bad, shank. Simply friends or no, gotta run things properly, keep united states buggers
alive. Think about that while ya sit here and stare at the bloody walls."
Then he was gone.
* * *
The first hour passed, and Thomas felt boredom creep in like rats under the door. By hour number two, he
wanted to blindside his head against the wall. Two hours after that he started to think having dinner with Gally
and the Grievers would beat out sitting inside that stupid Slammer. He sat and tried to bring back memories,
but every endeavour evaporated into oblivious mist earlier annihilation formed.
Thankfully, Chuck arrived with lunch at noon, relieving Thomas from his thoughts.
Later passing some pieces of craven and a glass of water through the window, he took upwardly his usual
function of talking Thomas'due south ear off.
"Everything's getting back to normal," the boy announced. "The Runners are out in the Maze,
everyone's working—maybe nosotros'll survive afterwards all. Still no sign of Gally—Newt told the Runners to
come back lickety-splickety if they plant his body. And, oh, yeah—Alby's upwards and around. Seems fine—
and Newt'due south glad he doesn't take to be the large boss anymore."
The mention of Alby pulled Thomas'due south attention from his nutrient. He pictured the older boy thrashing
around, choking himself the day before. Then he remembered that no one else knew what Alby had said
after Newt left the room—earlier the seizure. Just that didn't mean Alby would keep information technology between them now
that he was up and walking around.
Chuck connected talking, taking a completely unexpected turn. "Thomas, I'm kinda messed up, man. It's
weird to feel sad and homesick, but accept no idea what it is you wish you could go back to, ya know? All I
know is I don't want to be here. I desire to go back to my family. Whatever'south in that location, any I was taken
from. I wanna remember."
Thomas was a lilliputian surprised. He'd never heard Chuck say something so deep and so true. "I know
what yous mean," he murmured.
Chuck was too short for his eyes to reach where Thomas could see them every bit he spoke, only from his next
statement, Thomas imagined them filling with a bleak sadness, maybe even tears. "I used to cry. Every
night."
This made thoughts of Alby leave Thomas'south mind. "Yeah?"
"Similar a pants-wettin' infant. Almost till the mean solar day y'all got here. Then I but got used to it, I guess. This
became dwelling, even though we spend every day hoping to get out."
"I've only cried once since showing up, but that was after almost getting eaten alive. I'm probably just
a shallow shuck-confront." Thomas might not have admitted information technology if Chuck hadn't opened upward.
"You cried?" he heard Chuck say through the window. "Then?"
"Yeah. When the last one finally fell over the Cliff, I bankrupt downward and sobbed till my throat and chest
hurt." Thomas remembered all too well. "Everything crushed in on me at one time. Sure fabricated me experience better
—don't feel bad about crying. Ever."
"Kinda does make ya feel better, huh? Weird how that works."
A few minutes passed in silence. Thomas found himself hoping Chuck wouldn't go out.
"Hey, Thomas?" Chuck asked.
"Still hither."
"Do you think I have parents? Real parents?"
Thomas laughed, generally to push away the sudden surge of sadness the statement caused. "Of course y'all
practise, shank. You need me to explain the birds and bees?" Thomas's heart injure—he could remember getting
that lecture but not who'd given it to him.
"That's not what I meant," Chuck said, his voice completely devoid of cheer. Information technology was low and bleak,
near a grumble. "Most of the guys who've gone through the Changing remember terrible things they
won't even talk virtually, which makes me doubt I accept anything skillful dorsum home. And so, I mean, you think it's
actually possible I have a mom and a dad out in the world somewhere, missing me? Do you call back they weep at
dark?"
Thomas was completely shocked to realize his eyes had filled with tears. Life had been so crazy since
he'd arrived, he'd never really thought of the Gladers every bit existent people with real families, missing them. It
was strange, just he hadn't even really thought of himself that way. But about what it all meant, who'd
sent them there, how they'd ever go out.
For the first time, he felt something for Chuck that made him so angry he wanted to kill somebody. The
boy should be in school, in a dwelling, playing with neighborhood kids. He deserved to go home at night to a
family who loved him, worried about him. A mom who made him take a shower every mean solar day and a dad who
helped him with homework.
Thomas hated the people who'd taken this poor, innocent child from his family. He hated them with a
passion he didn't know a human could feel. He wanted them expressionless, tortured, even. He wanted Chuck to be
happy.
But happiness had been ripped from their lives. Dear had been ripped from their lives.
"Listen to me, Chuck." Thomas paused, calming down as much as he could, making sure his voice
didn't crack. "I'm sure y'all accept parents. I know it. Sounds terrible, but I bet your mom is sitting in your
room correct now, property your pillow, looking out at the world that stole you from her. And yes, I bet
she'southward crying. Hard. Puffy-eyed, snotty-nosed crying. The real deal."
Chuck didn't say anything, simply Thomas thought he heard the slightest of sniffles.
"Don't surrender, Chuck. We're gonna solve this thing, exit of here. I'one thousand a Runner at present—I hope on
my life I'll get you dorsum to that room of yours. Brand your mom quit crying." And Thomas meant it. He felt
information technology burn in his middle.
"Hope you lot're right," Chuck said with a shaky voice. He showed a thumbs-up sign in the window, then
walked away.
Thomas stood up to pace around the fiddling room, fuming with an intense want to keep his hope. "I
swear, Chuck," he whispered to no one. "I swear I'll get you dorsum abode."

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