WICKED. They were the ones who'd saved him! And now they were just going to gas him to death?
He sat up, actually crying out from the jolt of pain it caused. He looked around, looked for anything he might be able to . . .
Tired. So tired.
Something in his chest felt wrong. Sick. The gas.
Tired. Hurt. Body exhausted. Breathing in gas. Couldn't help himself. So . . . tired . . . Inside him. Wrong.
Teresa. Why did it have to end that way? Tired . . .
Somewhere on the edge of his consciousness, he was aware of his head thumping against the floor. Betrayal. So . . . Tired . . .
CHAPTER 53
Thomas didn't know if he was dead or alive, but it felt like he was asleep. Aware of himself, but as if through a haze. He slipped into yet another memory-dream.
Thomas is sixteen. He's standing in front of Teresa and some girl he doesn't recognize.
And Aris.
Aris?
All three of them are looking at him with grim faces. Teresa is crying.
'It's time to go,' Thomas says.
Aris nods. 'Into the Swipe, then into the Maze.'
Teresa does nothing but wipe away some tears.
Thomas reaches out a hand and Aris shakes it. Then Thomas does the same with the girl he doesn't know.
Then Teresa rushes forward and pulls him into an embrace. She's sobbing, and Thomas realizes that he's also crying. His tears wet her hair as he hugs her tightly.
'You have to go now,' Aris says.
Thomas looks at him. Waits. Tries to enjoy this moment with Teresa. His last moment of full memory. They won't be like this again for a very long time.
Teresa looks up at him. 'It's going to work. It's all going to work.'
'I know,' Thomas says. He feels a sadness that makes every last bit of him ache.
Aris opens a door and beckons for Thomas to follow him. Thomas does, but manages to look back at Teresa one last time. Tries to look hopeful.
'See ya tomorrow,' he says.
Which is true, and it hurts.
The dream faded, and Thomas fell into the blackest sleep of his life.
CHAPTER 54
Whispers in the dark.
That was what Thomas heard when he began returning to consciousness. Low but harsh, like sandpaper rubbing across his eardrums. He didn't understand any of it. It was so dark it took him a second to realize that his eyes were open.
Something cool and hard pressed against his face. The ground. He hadn't moved since the gas had knocked him out. Shockingly, his head didn't hurt anymore. In fact, nothing did. Instead, a feeling of refreshed euphoria swam through him, almost made him dizzy. Maybe he was just happy to be alive.
He got his hands under himself and pushed up into a sitting position. A look around did nothing—not even the faintest glimmer of light broke up the utter darkness. He wondered what had happened to the green glow of the door that Teresa had shut on him.
Teresa.
His elation drained away. Remembering what she'd done to him. But then . . .
He wasn't dead. Unless the afterlife was just a crappy room of blackness.
He rested for a few minutes, letting his mind wake up and settle before he finally got to his feet and started feeling around. Three cool metal walls with evenly spaced upraised holes. One smooth wall that felt like plastic. He was definitely in that same little room.
He pounded on the door. 'Hey! Anybody out there?'
His thoughts started spinning. The memory-dreams, several now— so much to process, so many questions. The things that had first come back to him with the Changing in the Maze were slowly starting to come into focus, solidify. He'd been part of WICKED's plans, part of all this. He and Teresa had been close—best friends, even. All of it had seemed right. Doing these things for the greater good.
Only, Thomas didn't feel so good about it now. All he felt was anger and shame. How could anything justify what they'd done? What WICKED—what
And then there was Teresa. How could he ever have felt so much for her?
Something cracked, then hissed, interrupting his line of thinking.
The door started to open, slowly swinging outward. Teresa stood there in the pale light of early morning, her face streaked with tears. As soon as there was enough room, she threw her arms around him, pressing her face against his neck.
'I'm so sorry, Tom,' she said; her tears were wet against his skin. 'I'm so, so, so sorry. They said they'd kill you if we didn't do everything just like they told us. No matter how horrible. I'm sorry, Tom!'
Thomas couldn't answer, couldn't bring himself to hug back. Betrayal. The sign on Teresa's door, the conversation between the people in his dreams. Pieces were falling into place. For all he knew, she was just trying to trick him again. The betrayal meant he couldn't trust her anymore, and his heart told him he couldn't forgive her.
On some level, he realized that Teresa had kept her initial promise to him after all. She had done those awful things against her will. What she had said in the shack had been true. But he also knew that things could never, never be the same between them.
He finally pushed Teresa away. The sincerity in her blue eyes did little to diminish his lingering doubt. 'Uh . . . maybe you should tell me what happened.'
'I told you to trust me,' she answered. 'I told you that bad, bad things would happen to you. But the bad stuff was all an act.' She smiled then, and it was so pretty Thomas longed to find a way to forget what she'd done.
'Yeah, but you didn't seem to struggle too much, beating the klunk out of me with a spear and throwing me into a gas chamber.' He couldn't hide the mistrust raging in his heart. He glanced at Aris, who looked sheepish, like he'd intruded on a private conversation.
'I'm sorry,' the boy said.
'Why didn't you tell me we knew each other before?' Thomas responded. 'What. . .' He didn't know what to say.
