The Godhead Complex by James Dashner

Author:James Dashner [Dashner, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Young Adult, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9798985955224
Google: 1HGqzwEACAAJ
Amazon: B0BW4TCFRM
Goodreads: 122927154
Publisher: Akashic Media Enterprises
Published: 2023-11-14T06:00:00+00:00

Within walking distance of the Golden Room of Grief was an unassuming plot of land, stretched within the walls of their fortress. On the surface, it was empty and sparse, but ten feet below, a bunker held over a thousand Cranks. Within the underground was a complex tunnel system, filled with safe rooms and areas for supplies. Mikhail let the six Grief Bearers walk before him so they wouldn’t see the tear in his cloak. They walked like cowards, their backs stiff with fear.

“You’re sure we all need to go down there?” the skinny one turned to ask.

Mikhail simply nodded and motioned to the moss-covered hatch. One by one, the six men lowered themselves into the bunker’s entrance, as if they were lowering themselves to certain death. The Grief Bearers of the Remnant Nation were no better than the starving Orphans in Hell, but the cloaks made them think otherwise. Cloaks of power. None of the Bearers actually held any power, no, Mikhail made sure of that. They only knew as little or as much as he deemed to share during his masked visits to the Golden Room.

He climbed down the hatch, into the tunnel, walked to the lift.

“Sir. The Crank Army is very hungry.” The skinny Grief Bearer followed too closely.

Mikhail’s loss of blood made him dizzy. “Hunger for war is a good thing.” He shouldn’t have needed to tell the Grief Bearers that.

“No. They are not, how do I put this . . .” The Bearer stepped forward, ahead of the entrance to the bunker’s shaft. “. . . Satisfied.”

“Then feed them more.” Mikhail moved past him and into the small elevator but one of the men stopped him from pushing the lever to descend.

“I saw one eat their own arm yesterday, Sir.” The Grief Bearer let go of Mikhail’s cloaked arm.

Mikhail didn’t believe it. Self-cannibalism. Autosarcophagy? Cranks were cannibalistic, but they weren’t going to eat themselves for Flares-sake. No animal would. He lowered the lever of the lift once all six Grief Bearers were inside; the elevator clanked and grinded down, gears shifting and turning until they arrived at the bunker level. The others collectively took a deep breath as the gated door of the lift opened. The wound caused a clammy heat to coat Mikhail’s body and he welcomed the cooler air from the mine shaft. The smell, however, he could have done without. It smelled of stomach acid and bile. Had the Grief Bearers not been keeping up with maintenance of the Army?

“They’re chained in groups of eight?” Mikhail asked. Eight was a sacred number. Part of the digits Alexandra recited. She clung to those numbers for her sanity, and soon he would deliver her an army of eights.

“Yes, sir.” A Grief Bearer who’d brought a notepad and pen cleared his throat. “For the most part.” He clicked the pen nervously. Click clack. Click clack. Click clack. The sound of it made Mikhail’s eye twitch.

“What the hell does that mean? They’re either shackled together, ready to fight, or they’re not.

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