The Fever Code (18 page)

229.10.28
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11:04 p.m.

“You probably know this place better than I even do,” Thomas said as they made their way around a corner and quietly set off down another long hallway. “With all the sneaking around you guys have done.”

“Yeah, probably,” Newt agreed.

“Well, I think I found a quicker way to get over to the Group B barracks. And less chance of being stopped by security.”

Everything still look good?
Thomas asked Teresa in his mind. She was helping out by guiding them through the least likely places to get caught. She'd studied video feeds earlier, and had made it very clear that Thomas would owe her big-time.

Yeah,
she replied.
Go through that R&D lab I told you about and you should be totally fine. There's an emergency escape tunnel at the far end that goes right by the barracks.

Got it,
he said.

After a few more turns they came to a secured door marked
RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT
, one of the many to which he'd never been granted access.

It should be open now,
Teresa said to him. It was as if she were watching them in real time.
And you should be fine on your way back. I'm going to my room and to bed. If someone arrests you or shoots you, too bad.
She cut off the connection before he could respond, but not before sending one last little mental image of a kiss on the cheek that she knew would embarrass him.

“Tommy,” Newt whispered. He'd hunkered down next to the R&D door. “Wipe that bloody look off your face and let's keep moving.”

Thomas ignored him and pushed open the door, then quickly stepped inside the room, motioning for Newt to follow. Once the door was closed, they started to make their way across the lab. It was a large space, full of countertops cluttered with equipment and desks set up with workstations and monitors. The room was filled with glass containers and unusual machinery covered in an assortment of tubing and wires. The walls were hung with tools that looked like they belonged in a torture chamber from the Middle Ages: gleaming silver metal, and lots of it was sharp. Thomas and Newt stayed low as they made their way down the aisle that cut through the middle of the huge room.

“What're they
doing
in here?” Newt asked, his whisper sounding like a small explosion in the eerie silence.

Thomas jumped at the sound, then stumbled. Newt tripped over him, and then they were both laughing, legs and arms tangled in a pile on the ground. They were either stressed or starting to crack up.

“Are you sure WICKED knows what they're doing with you?” Newt joked as they picked themselves up and brushed themselves off. “You seem a little more clown than elite.”

Thomas was searching for something smart to say when his eyes caught an unusual sight. Hidden back in the darkness of the room was a glowing green mass. It was mesmerizing and strange, and he couldn't look away.

Newt's smile faltered, then disappeared. “What is it?” he asked, looking in the same direction. There was a misty fog surrounding the lime-green light.

Thomas knew he should walk away, keep moving and find the hidden passage to Group B. But there was no chance of that.

“Let's check it out,” he whispered, as if he might wake up whatever monster swam in the glowing goo.

Together, he and Newt slowly walked past several desks and workstations, step by step, getting closer to the eerie light. As they approached it, Thomas saw that the glow came from a large green plate of glass, maybe ten feet by ten feet, covering a container that stood chest-high. Wisps of white mist spilled out the edges and curled into the darkness of the room.

Thomas leaned over the glass, its top beaded with drops of water, and looked over at Newt. His friend's face was illuminated by the green light, and for a moment he looked sick. Thomas shook the thought away.

“We probably shouldn't mess with this,” Newt said, looking up from the vat. “Looks bloody radioactive to me. We could wake up with three extra fingers and one less eye in the morning.”

Thomas smiled, only half hearing him, looked back at the otherworldly container below, feeling almost hypnotized. Mist churned beneath the surface, swirling in little whirlpools. But there was something underneath that. He could just barely make out a dark outline. He almost felt that if he just kept staring at it, whatever it was would reveal itself.

“Tommy?” Newt said. “Let's move on, yeah? This thing gives me the creeps.”

Thomas couldn't move on. He desperately wanted to know—

A lumpy object moved in the container, bumping against the glass with a heavy thump, and Thomas jumped back. The object squeaked along the container's side for several seconds before vanishing into the fog again. The thing had been tan-colored, with lines like veins running through it. An arm. It had looked like an arm.

Thomas shivered, and the hairs on his neck and arms stood straight up. He looked over at Newt, who met his gaze with one of horror.

“Why are we still standing here?” Newt asked.

“Good question.”

Thomas moved to leave when another lump of flesh pressed up against the glass. It appeared to be the torso of whatever creature was being held in the tank. It too had veins, and something like mucus covered its skin. Thomas had to fight his stomach not to send dinner up his throat.

“Look, Tommy,” Newt said, leaning closer to the glass, pointing. “It has…things growing out of its skin.” He stepped back from the container, shaking his head as he glanced away.

Thomas couldn't look away until he saw what his friend was talking about. With a sudden surge of bravery, he leaned on the edge of the container and wiped off some condensation. The meaty mass pressed against the window had large, bulbous growths—several of them. They looked like tumors or gigantic blisters. And unless his eyes were tricking him, Thomas could swear the growths were where the glowing light was coming from.

Finally he stepped back and rubbed his eyes. He'd seen a lot of strange things in his life, but this took the cake.

“What…,” he said, drawing out his words, “in the world…is that?”

“No bloody idea,” Newt replied, refusing to look back. “Have we had enough yet?” Tendrils of mist cascaded up his shirt and parted around his head.

“Plenty,” Thomas agreed. “Let's go.”

He'd had yet another peek behind the mysterious curtain of WICKED, and he didn't like what he'd seen.

A somber mood hung between them as they made their way across the rest of the R&D room, the security tunnel Teresa had told them about, and then finally to a false wall behind a closet that led to the barracks of Group B. Every time Thomas thought he'd kind of gotten used to things around WICKED, he came across something like a glass container in which a hideous monster with glowing tumors grew like a fetus in a womb.

They obviously weren't telling him everything. Of course they weren't—he wasn't a naïve idiot. But sometimes it seemed like they told him nothing, like they were playing him like everyone else. Like he was just another subject. Who knew what kind of horrors were in store for those sent to the two mazes. The Grievers, this thing growing in the R&D vat…

He sighed as Newt pressed against the wall and popped out a large panel. It revealed a small closet, mostly dark, with a door just a few feet away that led into the large barracks room. The door of the closet was ajar, and through the opening, Thomas could see bunk beds lined up along the walls.

“What if they freak out?” Thomas whispered. “I don't want forty girls attacking me at once.”

“I thought you went for that sort of thing,” Newt whispered back. Thomas could barely see him, but he knew his friend was smiling.

Thomas shook his head and nudged Newt toward the opening, then followed him through to the other side of the closet. They peered through the door to Group B. The soft sighs of sleep were broken here and there by a sharp snore or the creaks of springs as bodies repositioned.

Thomas waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He was scanning the room of bunks when a figure suddenly appeared in front of him. He stifled a yelp and stumbled backward. The girl followed him into the shadows of the closet.

“What do you want?” she whispered fiercely. “Who are you?”

Thomas finally recovered. “Sorry to sneak in like this—we're from Group A. We're here so Newt can say goodbye to his sister before the Maze Trials begin.” He couldn't see Newt's face because of the darkness, but he imagined the boy laughing at him for being so startled.

“You could've given us a warning,” the girl replied, “before creeping in like kidnappers. What are your names? Well,
your
name, if he's Newt. We know all about Newt. Sonya is one of my best friends.”

“I'm Thomas.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. Or annoyed. Her group had probably heard just as much about him and Teresa as his friends had about Aris and Rachel. WICKED seemed to have spread the word. “My name's Miyoko. Let me get Sonya.”

She slipped off into the barracks room, a shadow among shadows.

“I hope they're on our side,” Newt said. “That girl'd take down half of us, yeah?”

Thomas didn't answer; the darkness of the closet suddenly felt menacing. He knew that WICKED had the subjects separated into groups of girls and boys for various reasons. It had to do with how they were going to run out the Variables later in the trials. But he also knew there was more going on, and he didn't like it.

Miyoko reappeared, this time with another girl right next to her. She was a blur as she ran past Thomas, streaking through the door and straight at Newt. They embraced in an unstable hug, stumbling back in the dark little room.

“Here,” Miyoko said, gently pushing Thomas out of the way so she could swing the closet door closed. Then she turned on a light that seemed as bright as two suns. He squinted and held a hand up to his eyes, temporarily blinded.

Newt was crying, and Thomas didn't need vision to know it. The boy sobbed, the sounds muffled by his sister's neck or shoulder. As Thomas's sight returned, he saw that both of them had tears streaming down their faces, and they were hugging each other fiercely. He didn't know how long it had been since the last time they'd seen each other, or if they were able to communicate somehow. But his heart hurt watching them.

“Come on,” Miyoko said to Thomas, grabbing his arm. “Let's give them some—”

“I hate them,” Newt said loudly through his sniffles. He pulled back from his sister and wiped his cheeks. “I hate every one of them! How can they do this? How can they steal us from our homes and keep us separate like this? It's not right!” He yelled the last word, and Miyoko winced, eyeing the door.

“No, no, no,” Sonya said in a soothing tone. She put her hands on both sides of her brother's face, looking straight into his eyes. “Don't say that. You're looking at it all wrong. We've got it better than ninety-nine percent of kids out there. They
saved
us, big brother. What are the odds we'd be alive if they'd left us out there?” She pulled Newt back into a hug.

“But why do they keep us separate?” he asked, and the sadness in his voice broke Thomas's heart. “Why all the tests and the games and the cruelty? I hate them, I don't care what you say.”

“It'll all be over someday,” the younger girl whispered. “Remember, you're not immune. One day we'll be able to make you safe and then we'll be back together. Come on. You're my big brother. You're supposed to be the one comforting me.”

“I love you, Lizzy,” he replied, squeezing her hard. “I love you so much.” He leaned back and looked at her.

She smiled and Newt shook his head, pulling her back into a strong hug, and Thomas had a feeling that was about the best things would get for a while.