The Scorch Trials

“No thanks. You keep it.”

Minho didn’t respond. Thomas couldn’t deny that the signs weighed heavily on him-what did it really mean that WICKED wanted him to be the leader? And what should he do about it?

Newt got to his feet, his face in a deep scowl of concentration. “So we’re all potential candidates for something. And maybe the purpose of all the buggin’ klunk we’ve been through is to weed out those who don’t qualify. But for some reason the whole gun-and-rusty-bullet thing wasn’t part of the… normal tests. Or Variables, whatever. If Thomas is go

Thomas pursed his lips and nodded. Sounded like a great summary to him.

“What this means is that they’re watching us,” Minho said. “Just like they did in the Maze. Has anyone seen a beetle blade ru

Several Gladers shook their heads.

“What the hell’s a beetle blade?” Jorge asked.

Thomas answered. “Little mechanical lizard things that spied on us with cameras in the Maze.”

Jorge rolled his eyes. “Of course. Sorry I asked.”

“The Maze was definitely some kind of indoor facility,” Aris said. “But there’s just no way we’re inside something anymore. Though they could be using satellites or long-range cameras, I guess.”

Jorge cleared his throat. “What is it about Thomas that makes him so special? Those signs in the city about him being the real leader, them swooping in here and saving his butt when he got all sicky-sicky.” He looked at Thomas. “I’m not trying to be mean, muchacho -I’m just curious. What makes you better than the rest of your buddies?”

“I’m not special,” Thomas said, even though he knew he was hiding something. He just didn’t know what. “You heard what they said. We have lots of ways to die out here, but that gun shouldn’t be one of them. I think they would’ve saved anybody who’d gotten shot. It wasn’t about me-it was the bullet that messed things up.”

“Still,” Jorge replied with a smirk. “I think I’ll stay close to you from here on.”

A few more discussions broke out, but Minho didn’t let them last long. He insisted that they all needed sleep if they were pla

They didn’t have blankets or pillows, so Thomas curled up on the ground in the very spot where he’d been sitting, resting his head on his folded arms. Brenda somehow ended up right next to him, though she didn’t say anything, and she certainly didn’t touch him. Thomas didn’t know if he’d ever figure her out.

He sucked in a long, slow breath, closed his eyes, then welcomed the rest, welcomed that heavy feeling of slumber as it started pulling him into its depths. The sounds around him seemed to fade away, the air to thicken. A calm came over him, then sleep.

The sun was still blazing in the sky when a voice sounded in his mind, waking him up.

A girl’s voice.

Teresa.

After days and days of utter silence, Teresa started talking to him telepathically, all at once, a rush of words.

Tom, don’t even try to talk back, just listen. Something terrible is going to happen to you tomorrow. An awful, awful thing. You’re go

She paused, but Thomas was so stu

I have to go. You won’t hear from me for a while.

Another pause.

Not until we’re back together.

He fumbled for something to say, but her voice and her presence slipped away, leaving him empty once more.

CHAPTER 43

It took a long time for Thomas to find sleep again.

He had no doubt it had been Teresa. None at all. Just like before when they’d spoken to each other, he’d felt her presence, sensed her emotions. She’d been with him, even if it had been for such a short time. And when she left, it was like opening up that vast void within all over again. As if during the days since her disappearance a thick liquid had slowly seeped in and filled that chamber, only to have it all sucked out again when she came and went.

What had she meant, anyway? Something awful was going to happen to him, but he needed to trust her? He couldn’t wrap his mind around that enough for it to make any sense. And as awful as her warning sounded, his thoughts kept drifting to the last part, about them being together again. Was that some string of false hope? Or did it mean she thought he’d make it through the bad thing and end up okay? Reunited with her? Possibilities raced through his mind, but they all seemed to hit a depressing dead end.

The day only got hotter and hotter as he tossed and turned, haunted by his thoughts. He’d almost grown used to Teresa’s being gone, which made him sick to his stomach. To make it worse, he felt like he’d betrayed her by letting Brenda become his friend, by growing so close to her.

Ironically, his first instinct was to reach out and wake Brenda, talk to her about it. Was that wrong? He felt so frustrated and stupid he wanted to scream.

All great for someone trying to fall back asleep in the miserable heat.

The sun had trudged halfway to the horizon before he finally did.

He felt a little better in the late evening when Newt shook him awake. Teresa’s brief visit to his mind seemed like a dream now. He could almost believe it had never happened.

“Sleep well, Tommy?” Newt asked. “How’s that shoulder?”

Thomas sat up, rubbed his eyes. Though he couldn’t have slept for more than three or four hours, his sleep had been deep and undisturbed. He rubbed his shoulder to test it and was surprised all over again. “Feels really good, actually-aches a little, but not much. Hard to believe I was hurtin’ so bad before.”

Newt looked around at the Gladers preparing to leave, then back at Thomas. “Feels like we haven’t talked much since leaving the bloody dorm. Not much time to sit around and sip tea, I guess.”

“Yeah.” For some reason this made Thomas think of Chuck, and all the pain of his death came rushing back. Which just made him hate the people behind all this all over again. The line from Teresa came back to him. “I don’t see how WICKED can be good.”

“Huh?”

“Remember what Teresa had written on her arm when she first woke up? Or did you even know about that? It said WICKED is good. I’m just finding that hard to believe.” The sarcasm in his voice wasn’t subtle.

Newt had a strange smile on his face. “Well, they just saved your buggin’ life.”

“Yeah, they’re real saints.” Thomas couldn’t deny he was confused. They had saved his life. He also knew he’d worked for them. But what it all meant, he had no idea.

Brenda, who had been stirring in her sleep, now finally sat up, letting out a big yawn. “Morning. Or evening. Whatever.”

“Another day alive,” Thomas answered, then realized Newt might have no idea who Brenda was. He really had no idea what had happened in the group since he’d been shot. “I’m assuming you guys had time to get to know each other? If not, Brenda, this is Newt. Newt, Brenda.”

“Yeah, we know already.” Newt reached out and shook her hand mockingly. “But thanks again for making sure this bloody sissy didn’t get his butt killed while you two were out partying.”

The barest hint of a smile flashed across her face. “Partying. Yeah. I especially loved the part where we had people trying to cut our noses off.” A look flashed across her face, part embarrassment, part despair. “Guess it won’t be long before I’m one of those psychos.”