Error | The Maze Runner / Newt ? ?

{1.1}

"He just said he likes the taste of eyeballs," Frypan deadpanned in a monotonous tone, eyes wide. "I think that qualifies as crazy."

Jorge's laugh was booming and set me slightly on edge. Though he was clearly amused, there was also an undertone of menace that I didn't fail to catch. "Come, come, my new friends. I'd only eat your eyes if you were already dead. Course, I might help you get that way if I needed to. Understand what I'm saying?" All traces of kindness vanished from his dark face, replaced with a stern look.

Nobody replied for a long while. Newt finally asked, "How many of you are there?"

Jorge's gaze snapped in our direction, eyebrows raised in mockery. "How many? How many Cranks? We're all Cranks here, hermano."

Theo's face lit up at the man's usage of Spanish. He stepped closer with a challenging expression on his tanned face, curls unruly as ever from the storm. "Listen, hermano," he mimicked. "Just answer the question. Right now, there are more of us than you."

Jorge's eyes filled with interest as they flickered to my Spanish-speaking friend. He had noticed his accent as well, along with the way the word 'hermano' effortlessly rolled off of his tongue. "Lots of things you people need to understand about how things work in this city. About the Cranks and W.I.C.K.E.D, about the government, about why they left us here to rot in our disease, kill each other, go completely and utterly insane. About how there's different levels of the Flare. About how it's too late for you – the ill is gonna catch ya if you don't already have it."

Jorge began to pace as he talked, taking in all of us and sizing us up with his dark brown eyes. I felt the familiar sensation of fear crawling up my back. He stopped near us, feet almost touching where Minho sat on the ground.

"But that's not the way it's gonna work, comprende? Those who are at a disadvantage are those who speak first. I want to know everything about you. Where you came from, why you're here, what in God's name your purpose could be. Now."

Minho's chuckle was low and threatening. "We're the ones at a disadvantage?" He swiveled his head around to sweep his eyes over all of us. "Unless that lightning storm fried my retinas, I'd say there are thirteen of us and one of you. Maybe you should start talking."

I ground my teeth, glaring at the back of Minho's head so hard I hoped he could feel it. He was going to get us killed with his smart mouth. Jorge obviously wasn't alone; there were probably tons of Cranks hiding in the shadows on the floors above. He was dangerous and we couldn't afford to make an enemy of him.

"You didn't just say that to me, did you?" Despite the venom in his words, Jorge's face was blank. "Please tell me you didn't just speak to me like a dog. You have ten seconds to apologize."

Minho looked over at Thomas and smirked.

"One," Jorge counted. "Two. Three. Four. Five. Six."

"Do it," Thomas demanded out loud, voice no more than a hiss.

"Seven. Eight."

Jorge's voice rose with each number he said, and by ten, he might've been able to shatter every piece of glass that remained on the windows. There was a glimpse of movement in the shadows above, making me gulp. Minho noticed it as well; any remaining arrogance drained from his face.