CHAPTER 62
For a long time, Thomas knew only darkness. The break in the void of his thoughts was just a hairline crack- only wide enough to let him know about the void itself. Somewhere on the edge of it all, he knew that he was supposed to be asleep, kept alive only so they could inspect his brain. Take it apart, probably slice by slice.
So he wasn’t dead yet.
At some point as he floated in this confusing mass of blackness, he heard a voice. Calling his name.
After hearing Thomas several times, he finally decided to go after it, find it. He made himself move toward the voice.
Toward his name.
CHAPTER 63
“Thomas, I have faith in you,” a woman said to him as he fought to regain consciousness. He didn’t recognize the voice, but it was somehow soft and authoritative at the same time. He continued struggling, heard himself moan, felt himself shifting in his bed.
Finally, he opened his eyes. Blinking against the brightness of the overhead lights, he noticed a door closing behind whoever had been there to wake him.
“Wait,” he said, but it came out as nothing more than a gravelly whisper.
By force of will he got his elbows under him and pushed himself up. He was alone in the room, the only sounds distant shouts and an occasional rumble like thunder. His mind began to clear, and he realized that other than a little grogginess, he felt fine. Which meant that, unless the miracles of science had really taken a leap, he also still had his brain.
A manila folder on the table beside his bed caught his attention. In big red letters, Thomas had been written across the front of it. He swung his legs around to sit up on the edge of the mattress and grabbed the folder.
There were two pieces of paper inside. The first was a map of the WICKED complex, with black marker tracing several routes through the building. He quickly scanned the second: it was a letter, addressed to him and signed by Chancellor Paige. He put the map down and started to read the letter from the beginning. Dear Thomas, It’s my belief that the Trials are over. We have more than enough data to create a blueprint. My associates disagree with me on this matter, but I was able to stop this procedure and save your life. It’s now our task to work with the data we already have and build a cure for the Flare. Your participation, and that of the other subjects, is no longer necessary. You now have a great task ahead of you. When I became chancellor I realized the importance of creating a back door of sorts to this building. I placed this back door in an unused maintenance room. I’m asking you to remove yourself, your friends, and the considerable number of Immunes we’ve gathered. Time is of the essence, as I’m sure you’re aware. There are three paths marked on the map I’ve enclosed. The first shows you how to leave this building through a tunnel-once outside, you’ll be able to find where the Right Arm has made their own entrance to another building. There, you can join them. The second route will show you how to get to the Immunes. The third shows you how to find the back door. It’s a Flat Trans that will transport you to what I hope will be a new life. Take them all and leave.
Ava Paige, Chancellor
Thomas stared at the paper, his mind in a spin. Another rumble sounded far away and jarred him back to reality. He trusted Brenda, and she trusted the chancellor. All he could do now was move.
He folded the letter and the map and stuffed them in his back pocket, then slowly stood up. Surprised at how quickly his strength had returned, he ran to the door. A peek out into the hallway showed that it was empty. He slipped out, and just as he did, two people came running by from behind. They didn’t so much as glance at him, and Thomas realized that the chaos brought about by the Right Arm’s attack might be the thing that ended up saving him.
He pulled out the map and studied it carefully, following the black line that led to the tunnel. It wouldn’t take long at all to get to it. He memorized the path and started jogging down the hall, scanning the two other paths Chancellor Paige had marked on the map as he went.
He had only gone a few yards when he stopped, stunned by what he was seeing. He pulled the map closer to make sure-maybe he wasn’t reading it right. But there was no mistaking what it showed.
WICKED had hidden the Immunes in the Maze.
CHAPTER 64
There were two mazes on the map, of course-the one for Group A and the one for Group B. Both must’ve been built deep into the bedrock that lay under the main buildings of WICKED’s headquarters. Thomas couldn’t tell which one he’d been directed to go to, but either way he was going back to the Maze. With a sickening dread, he started running toward Chancellor Paige’s tunnel.
He followed the map and ran down hallway after hallway until he got to a long set of stairs that descended into a basement. The path took him through empty rooms and then, finally, to a small door that opened to a tunnel. The tunnel was dark but, Thomas was relieved to see, not completely black. Several uncovered lightbulbs hung from the ceiling as he ran along the narrow corridor. After about two hundred feet he came to a ladder that had been marked on the map. Up he went, and at the top there was a round metal door with a wheel handle that reminded him of the entrance to the Map Room in the Glade.
He spun the handle and pushed with all his strength. A dim light came in as Thomas forced the door up, and as it flipped open on its hinges, a great gust of cold air blew over him. He heaved himself out and onto the ground, next to a big rock in the barren, snow-covered land between the forest and WICKED headquarters.
He carefully hefted the lid to the tunnel up and over to close it again, then crouched behind the stone. He didn’t notice any movement, but the night was too dark to see very well. He looked up into the sky, and when he saw the same heavy gray clouds he’d noticed when he’d reached the complex, he realized that he had no idea how much time had passed since then. Had he been in the building for only a few hours, or had a full night and day come and gone?
Chancellor Paige’s note said that the Right Arm had made their own entrance into the buildings, probably with the explosions Thomas had heard earlier, and that was where he needed to go first. He saw the wisdom of connecting with the group-there was safety in numbers-and he had to let them know where the Immunes were hidden. Judging from the map, the best option Thomas had was to run to the cluster of buildings farthest from where he’d come out and search the area.
He went for it, edging around the boulder and sprinting for the closest building. He crouched as he ran, trying to stay as low as possible. Lightning streaked through the sky; it illuminated the cement of the complex and flashed off the white snow. Thunder followed quickly, rumbling across the land and rattling deep in his chest.
He reached the first building and pushed through the line of ragged bushes up against the wall. He edged along the side of the structure but found nothing. He stopped when he came to the first corner and peered around it-in the space between buildings were a series of courtyards. But he still saw no way inside.
He skirted the next two buildings, but as he approached the fourth one, he heard voices and immediately dropped to the ground. As quietly as he could, he scooted along the frozen dirt toward an overgrown bush, then peeked around it to search for the source of the noise.
There it was. Rubble lay strewn across the yard in huge heaps, and behind them a massive hole had been blasted in the side of the building. Which meant that the explosion had originated from the inside. A faint light shone from the opening, casting broken shadows on the ground. Sitting on the edge of one of those shadows were two people wearing civilian clothes. The Right Arm.
Thomas had started to stand up when an icy hand gripped his mouth tightly and he was jerked backward. Another arm wrapped around his chest and pulled him, dragging him along the ground; his feet burrowed through the snow. Thomas kicked out, struggling to free himself, but the person was too strong.
