Den norska bokbloggaren “Flukten fra virkeligheten” har varje söndag en rolig liten utmaning där man ska skriva ner en liten smakbit av boken man läser för tillfället. Just nu läser jag bland annat ”The Maze Runner” av James Dashner.
When the doors of the lift crank open, the only thing Thomas remembers is his first name. But he’s not alone. He’s surrounded by boys who welcome him to the Glade – a walled encampment at the centre of a bizarre and terrible stone maze. Like Thomas, the Gladers don’t know why or how they came to be there – or what’s happened to the world outside.
He looked back into the Maze, at the closing wall. Only a couple of metres more and it’d be over.
Minho stumbled up ahead, fell to the ground. They weren’t going to make it. Time was up. That was it.
Thomas heard Newt scream something from behind him.
”Don’t do it, Tommy! Don’t you bloody do it!”
The rods on the right wall seemed to reach like stretchedout arms for their home, grasping for those little holes that would serve as their resting place for the night. The crunching, grinding sound of the Doors filled the air, deafening.
Two metres, one and a half, one.
Thomas knew he had no choice. He moved. Forward. He squeezed past the connecting rods at the last second and stepped into the Maze.
The walls slammed shut behind him, the echo of it’s boom bouncing off the ivy-covered stone like mad laughter. s.110