“And what’s that?” Thomas asked.
“A maze. Two mazes, actually. Like I said, there are two caverns.”
“Why?” Teresa asked. “Why in the world are you building two mazes?”
“As a testing ground. As a controlled environment to stimulate a long list of reactions, both physical and emotional, from our test subjects. We couldn’t risk these locations being in the open air, and not just because of the obvious reasons like the decimated landscape and the potential for Crank invasions. The world is a dangerous, dangerous place at the moment. But just as importantly, we need a closed testing area so we can effectively control the stimuli.”
Thomas heard all this but found it hard to believe. Or maybe just too much to process at once.
“Thomas?” McVoy said. “Do you want to ask the next question?”
“I…” He searched for words. “It’s just so crazy. A maze? Two mazes? What are you going to test inside them? Who are you going to test?”
“It’s complicated, like I said. But basically we need a large-scale environment that we can control with no outside influence. Our doctors and Psychs think this is a perfect environment to get what we need.” She leaned back and sighed. “But I’m rambling. The simple answer is this: We’ll be continuing to do what we’ve already begun. We’ll be testing immunes, studying their brain function and biology, figuring out how they can live with the Flare virus without succumbing to its effects. In short, we’re trying to find a cure, Thomas. We’re trying to prevent all this unnecessary death that now surrounds us.”
“What did you mean about us helping you to build the place?” Teresa asked.
“Exactly that,” McVoy replied with a genuine smile. “We’ve decided to use you and Thomas, as well as two other children your age, to assist us. Perhaps others. But the four of you are just so…beyond what we’d expected from people so young. We’re going to utilize that. As I’ve said before, we’re pragmatic people with limited resources. We don’t plan to waste your talents. The planning, design, execution of these mazes…it’s all going to be tricky.”
Thomas’s shortage of words continued. He just sat there, stunned. Teresa was quiet as well, maybe feeling the same.
“You do want to help us, don’t you?” McVoy asked.
Dr. Paige, who had been quiet throughout the afternoon, chimed in here. “It’s an honor and a fantastic opportunity, you guys. I know things are dire in the world right now, but this project could even be fun for you. A challenge. We have a lot of faith in you both. And in the others as well. Aris and Rachel are their names.”
After a long silence, McVoy said, “Well? What do you think?”
Thomas knew they had no choice in the matter. And that it might be a lot of hard work. But the whole idea was exciting. And something new to take up his days.
“Of course,” he said, barely able to contain his happiness.
“Yes,” Teresa added, sounding more serious.
McVoy stood up, then shook both Thomas’s and Teresa’s hands. “This will be a fun project. You’re becoming more a part of WICKED every day!” She said it as if it were the biggest compliment she could give.
As they left the conference room and headed back to their rooms, winding through the hallways, stairs, and elevators of the complex, McVoy’s parting words echoed through Thomas’s mind. A part of WICKED.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
—
Dr. Paige told Thomas that he had the rest of the day off to rest, relax, and think about things. He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. What he really wanted to do, though, was hang out with Teresa, to talk through it all. His mind spun with the life-changing things he’d heard and seen that day, and he needed Teresa’s help to process it all.
He looked at his door. It was closed, as always. And for as long as he could remember, it automatically locked upon closing. But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d tried it. For months, maybe even a year or two, he’d just always assumed it was locked and didn’t bother. Well, now he had a reason to give it a shot.
He rolled out of bed and went to the door. Slowly, he reached out, as if it might electrocute him upon touch. He grabbed the handle and turned.
The door popped open.
Thomas pushed it closed and ran back to his bed, his heart thumping in his ears. He looked around, wondered about the many, many ways they kept tabs on him. Cameras, microphones, sensors, who knew what else—some were in plain sight, some he couldn’t see at all. The fear he suddenly felt wasn’t rational—all he’d done was open the door a crack and then close it. WICKED had treated him well, for the most part. He hadn’t even seen Randall in a long time. Why the sudden chill icing his bones?
They watched his every move—he was sure of it. Maybe that was why they’d stopped locking the doors. For all he knew, they wanted him to leave, to observe him, to see what happened. Or it was possible that his obedience in staying put all these years was what had ensured his rise to the top along with Teresa and those other two kids. Could that be it?
It took a while, but his heart finally calmed, and the sweat that had dampened his face and arms evaporated. He stared at the door, pretending, even to himself, that what would happen next was actually up for debate. It wasn’t, and he knew it. Something would have to strike him dead to prevent him from exploring.
But he had to be smart about it. He would wait until nighttime.
The fear turned to pure anticipation.