She was quiet then. Quiet for a very long time.
Finally she stood up. “Give me twenty-four hours to think about it, okay?” And then she walked away, leaving a very anxious friend behind.
—
In the end, she only needed about fourteen hours.
Thomas had spent the day making use of his free time. In between his checkups, tests, and observation time, he scoured his research tablet for any information on Grievers in the files unprotected by passwords. Stopping the creatures would be a huge factor if they were going to escape. There wasn’t much, but he did find a schematics copy of its biomechanical makeup embedded in a huge collection of miscellaneous information dated years earlier.
He was in bed, studying the schematics for potential weaknesses, when Teresa called to him telepathically.
Okay, she said. I’m in.
He almost jumped out of his bed with excitement. Really? You’re on board?
For you. For Chuck. For our friends. I’ll help you.
Awesome. That’s awesome. Now we just need to convince Dr. Paige.
Don’t worry about her. I actually think she’ll love the idea of inserting us in Group A and Aris and Rachel in Group B. Let me take care of that part.
Really?
Really. I’ll meet with her first thing tomorrow.
—
Thomas stood in the observation room, watching a close feed of Newt as he ate his dinner by the big tall pole in the Glade. For some reason, he was alone. Maybe he just needed some time to himself. Maybe Chuck had talked his ear off all day—par for the course. But he sat there, taking his bites, chewing, swallowing, staring off at nothing in particular, deep in thought.
Thomas thought of Newt’s sister, Lizzy, somewhere off in Group B’s maze. Wouldn’t that be a thing, to save both of them?
“I’m coming for you, Newt,” Thomas whispered, so softly that no one could possibly hear him. “I’m coming for every last one of you.”
—
The next day, he got the official word.
Dr. Paige had approved the insertion of the Elites into the Maze Trials.
231.12.19 | 10:37 a.m.
Dr. Paige stood at the head of the table, with Thomas and Teresa sitting on one side, Aris and Rachel on the other. A few Psychs and technicians sat farther down, staying mostly quiet. But every once in a while, Dr. Paige shot them a glance for confirmation of what she was saying.
The plans for the Elites’ insertion had been laid out, and they were going over some final details. Thomas fought to maintain patience, to play along as if he had devoted his heart and soul to the things that were planned for them. But it was his intent—and serious hope—that none of it would ever happen.
“You can look up here,” Dr. Paige said, gesturing to a screen on the wall behind her, where a long chart full of information had been projected, “and see just how many new and unique Variables our Psychs have developed surrounding this insertion. We’ve taken it far beyond your simple suggestions, Teresa. We see this as a golden opportunity—a catalyst, if you will—to stimulate many killzone patterns that we’ve never been able to measure before.”
Thomas had been squinting at the display, trying to get a read on any of the individual line items. But the words were too small. And then, at a signal from Dr. Paige, the screen went blank again.
She continued. “Even the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours will bring events to the Glade that have never been seen before. Events that will significantly disrupt what has become a routine there and spur many new emotions and thoughts. Subjects arriving on consecutive days, a member of the opposite sex arriving for the first time—we’re just really encouraged by the possibilities. So I have to give a lot of credit to Teresa for this idea.” Her smile beamed down on Thomas’s friend.
As for him, he didn’t care one whit that she was taking all the credit. The plan might have never worked if Thomas had approached them. None of it mattered anyway. As much as he’d once loved Dr. Ava Paige, he hoped that soon he’d never have to see her again. Or anyone or anything related to WICKED.
He looked at Aris, and then Rachel, both of whom seemed less than happy. They hadn’t spoken much lately, and he and Teresa were still trying to decide whether to bring them in on the plan. Things were complicated enough, with too many risks. But he also couldn’t imagine not telling them. Either way, he fully intended to save Group B along with his own friends in Group A.
“Thomas?”
He snapped back to attention and realized that Dr. Paige—along with everyone else—was staring at him.
“Sorry,” he said, shifting in his seat. “I kind of spaced out there. Did I miss something?”
She looked back at him sternly. “I asked if you had an opinion on the memory swipe.”
He felt a prickle of sweat, an uncomfortable warmth. “What do you mean?”
“It’s the one aspect of this insertion that still gives me pause. Every subject before you has had their memories removed, and it worries me to break the cycle of consistency. I wanted to know your opinion on the matter.”
He pulled himself together, collected his wits. This could be the most important moment of his life. “I can understand that, but Teresa and I have talked about this a lot.” Including her could only strengthen his argument. “We think it will just add to the things you’re speaking about, all these new opportunities. Having someone on the inside, up front and close, reporting back to you here. That’s a perspective we’ve never had. I see it as the next level in the countless observations I’ve made over the last couple of years.”