The Death Cure (The Maze Runner Book 3) (3)
CHAPTER
3
Thomas
couldn’t find any words. Despite all the lies he’d been told, he knew that what
he’d just heard was the truth. When placed alongside his recent experiences, it
just made too much sense. He, and probably the other Gladers and everyone in
Group B, was immune to the Flare. Which was why they’d been chosen for the
Trials. Everything done to them—every cruel trick played, every deceit, every monster
placed in their paths—it all had been part of an elaborate experiment. And
somehow it was leading WICKED to a cure.
It
all fit together. And more—this revelation pricked his memories. It felt
familiar.
“I
can see that you believe me,” Rat Man finally said, breaking the long silence.
“Once we’d discovered there were people like you—with the virus rooted inside,
yet showing no symptoms—we sought out the best and the brightest among you.
This is how WICKED was born. Of course, some in your trial group are not immune,
and were chosen as control subjects. When running an experiment you need a control
group, Thomas. It keeps all the data in context.”
That
last part made Thomas’s heart sink. “Who isn’t …” The question wouldn’t come
out. He was too scared to hear the answer.
“Who
isn’t immune?” Rat Man asked, eyebrows raised. “Oh, I think they should find
out before you, don’t you? But first things first. You smell like a week-old
corpse—let’s get you to the showers and find some fresh clothes.” With that he
picked up his file and turned to the door. He was just about to step out when
Thomas’s mind focused.
“Wait!”
he shouted.
His
visitor looked back at him. “Yes?”
“Back
in the Scorch—why did you lie that there’d be a cure at the safe haven?”
Rat
Man shrugged. “I don’t think it was a lie at all. By completing the Trials, by
arriving at the safe haven, you helped us collect more data. And because of
that there will be a cure. Eventually. For everyone.”
“And
why are you telling me all this? Why now? Why did you stick me in here for four
weeks?”
Thomas
motioned around the room, at the padded ceiling and walls, at the pathetic
toilet in the corner. His sparse memories weren’t solid enough to make any
sense of the bizarre things that had been done to him. “Why did you lie to
Teresa about me being crazy and violent and keep me in here all this time? What
could possibly be the point?”
“Variables,”
Rat Man answered. “Everything we’ve done to you has been carefully calculated
by our Psychs and doctors. Done to stimulate responses in the killzone, where
the Flare does its damage. To study the patterns of different emotions and
reactions and thoughts. See how they work within the confines of the virus
that’s inside you. We’ve been trying to understand why in you, there’s no
debilitating effect.
It’s
all about the killzone patterns, Thomas. Mapping your cognitive and physiological
responses to build a blueprint for the potential cure. It’s about the cure.”
“What
is the killzone?” Thomas asked, trying to remember but drawing a blank.
“Just tell me that and I’ll go with you.”
“Why,
Thomas,” the man replied. “I’m surprised being stung by the Griever didn’t make
you recall at least that much. The killzone is your brain. It’s where the virus
settles and takes hold. The more infected the killzone, the more paranoid and
violent the behavior of the infected. WICKED is using your brain and those of a
few others to help us fix the problem. If you recall, our organization states
its purpose right in its name: World in Catastrophe, Killzone Experiment
Department.” Rat Man looked pleased with himself. Almost happy. “Now come on,
let’s get you cleaned up. And just so you know, we’re being watched. Trycanything
and there’ll be consequences.”
Thomas
sat, attempting to process everything he’d just heard. Again, everything rang
true, made sense. Fit in with the memories that had come back to him in recent
weeks. And yet his distrust of Rat Man and WICKED still sprinkled it all with
doubt.
He
finally stood, letting his mind work through the new revelations, hoping they’d
sort themselves into nice little stacks for later analysis. Without another
word, he walked across the room and followed the Rat Man through the door,
leaving his white-walled cell behind.
Nothing
stood out about the building in which he found himself. A long hallway, a tiled
floor, beige walls with framed pictures of nature—waves crashing on a beach, a
hummingbird hovering beside a red flower, rain and mist clouding a forest.
Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Rat Man led him through several turns and
finally stopped at a door. He opened it and gestured for Thomas to go in. It
was a large bathroom lined with lockers and showers. And one of the lockers was
open to show fresh clothes and a pair of shoes. Even a watch.
“You
have about thirty minutes,” Rat Man said. “When you’re done, just sit
tight—I’ll come back for you. Then you’ll be reunited with your friends.”
For
some reason, at the words friends, Teresa popped into Thomas’s mind. He
tried calling out to her again with his thoughts, but there was still nothing.
Despite his ever-growing disdain for her, the emptiness of her being gone still
floated like an unbreakable bubble within him. She was a link to his past and,
he knew without any doubt, had once been his best friend. It was one of the
only things in his world that he was sure of, and he had a hard time letting go
of that completely.
Rat
Man nodded. “See you in a half hour,” he said. Then he pulled the door open and
closed it behind him, leaving Thomas alone once more.
Thomas
still didn’t have a plan other than finding his friends, but at least he was
one step closer to that. And even though he had no idea what to expect, at
least he was out of that room. Finally. For now, a hot shower. A chance to
scrub himself clean. Nothing had ever sounded so good. Letting his cares slip
away for the moment, Thomas took off his nasty clothes and got to work making
himself human again.
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