Thomas thought for a second. “And if they control us, we’re in big trouble. I’ve seen it happen at least three times.” Alby struggling against an unseen force in the Homestead, Gally being controlled with the knife that hit Chuck, and Teresa straining to speak to Thomas outside the shack in the Scorch. All three among his most disturbing memories.

“Exactly. They could manipulate you, make you do things. They can’t see through your eyes or hear your voice or anything like that, but we need to get you fixed. If they’re close enough to have you under observation and if they decide it’s worth the risk, they’ll try it. And that’s the last thing we need.”

It was a lot to sort out. “Well, it looks like we have plenty of reason to go to Denver. We’ll see what Newt and Minho think when they wake up.”

Brenda nodded. “Sounds good.” She got to her feet and moved closer, then leaned in and kissed Thomas on the cheek. Goose bumps broke out down his chest and arms. “Ya know, most of what happened in those tunnels was not an act.” She stood and looked at him for a moment, quietly. “I’m going to wake up Jorge—he’s sleeping in the captain’s quarters.”

She turned and walked away, and Thomas sat there, hoping his face hadn’t flushed bright red when he remembered her being close to him in the Underneath. He put his hands behind his head and lay back on the cot, trying to process everything he’d just heard. They finally had some direction. He felt a smile crack his face, and not just because he’d been kissed.

Minho called their meeting a Gathering, just for old time’s sake.

By the end of it, Thomas had a headache, the pain throbbing so badly he thought his eyeballs might pop out. Minho played devil’s advocate on every single issue and for some reason gave Brenda dirty looks the entire time. Thomas knew that they needed to go over things from every possible angle, but he wished Minho would give Brenda a break.

In the end, after an hour of arguing and going back and forth and coming full circle a dozen times, they decided—unanimously—to go to Denver. They planned to land the Berg at a private airport with the story that they were Immunes looking for a government transport job. Luckily the Berg was unmarked—WICKED didn’t advertise when it went out into the real world, apparently. They’d be tested and branded as immune to the Flare, which would allow them access to the city proper. All except Newt, who—because he was infected—would have to stay on the Berg until they figured something out.

They ate a quick meal; then Jorge went off to pilot the ship. He said he was well rested and he wanted everyone else to take a nap since it would take a few more hours to reach the city. After that, who knew how long it would be before they found a place to stay for the night.

Thomas just wanted to be alone, so he used his headache as an excuse. He found a little reclining chair in an out-of-the-way corner and curled up in it, his back to the open area behind him. He had a blanket, and he pulled it up and around him, feeling cozier than he had in a long time. And even though he was scared of what might come, he also felt a sense of peace. Maybe they were finally close to breaking the bonds of WICKED forever.

He thought about their escape and all that had happened along the way. The more he went through it, the more he doubted that any of it had been orchestrated by WICKED. Too much had been done on the spur of the moment, and those guards had fought furiously to keep them there.

Finally sleep took him from all of these thoughts, and he dreamed.

He’s only twelve years old, sitting in a chair facing another man, who looks unhappy to be there. They’re in a room with an observation window.

“Thomas,” the sad man begins. “You’ve been a little … distant lately. I need you to come back to what’s important. You and Teresa are doing well with your telepathy, and things are moving forward nicely by all estimations. It’s time to refocus.”

Thomas feels shame, and then shame at being ashamed. It confuses him, makes him want to run away, back to his dorm. The man senses it.

“We won’t leave this room until I’m satisfied with your commitment.” The words are like a death sentence handed down by a heartless judge. “You’ll answer my questions, and the sincerity better bleed from your pores. Do you understand?”

Thomas nods.

“Why are we here?” the man asks.

“Because of the Flare.”

“I want more than that. Elaborate.”

Thomas pauses. He has felt a sense of rebellion lately, but he knows that once he recounts all the things this man wants to hear, it will dissipate. He’ll fall back into doing what they ask of him and learning what they set before him.

“Go on,” the man pushes.

Thomas lets it all out in a rush—word for word, as he memorized it long ago. “The sun flares pummeled the earth. Security in many government buildings was compromised. A man-made virus engineered for biological warfare leaked from a military center for disease control. That virus hit all the major population centers and spread rapidly. It became known as the Flare. The surviving governments put all their resources into WICKED, who found the best and the brightest of those who were immune. They began their plans to stimulate and map the brain patterns of all known human emotions and study how we operate despite having the Flare rooted inside our brains. The research will lead to …”

He keeps going and he doesn’t stop, breathing in and out with the words that he hates.

The dreaming Thomas turns and runs away, runs to the darkness.

CHAPTER 22

Thomas decided he needed to tell everyone more about all the dreams he was having. About what he suspected were memories coming back to him.

As they sat down for the second Gathering of the day, he made them all swear to keep their mouths shut until he was finished. They’d grouped the chairs near the cockpit of the Berg so Jorge could hear it all. Thomas then began to tell them about each dream he’d had—memories of his life as a kid, being taken by WICKED when they found out he was immune, his training with Teresa, all of it. When he got out all that he could remember, he waited for a response.

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Minho said. “Just makes me hate WICKED even more. Good thing we left, and I hope I never have to see Teresa’s shuck face again.”

Newt, who’d been irritable and distant, spoke for the first time since they’d sat down for the Gathering. “Brenda’s a bloody princess compared to that know-it-all.”

“Um … thanks?” Brenda replied with an eye roll.

“When did you change?” Minho blurted out.

“Huh?” Brenda replied.

“When did you become so shuck crazy against WICKED? You’ve worked for them, you did all those things they wanted you to do in the Scorch. You were all ready to help them put that mask on our face and mess with us all over again. When and how did you come so strongly over to our side?”

Brenda sighed; she looked tired, but her words came out laced with some anger. “I have never been on their side. Never. I’ve always disagreed with how they operate—but what could I ever do on my own? Or even with Jorge? I’ve done what I needed to do to survive. But then I lived through the Scorch with you guys and it made me realize … well, it made me realize that we have a chance.”

Thomas wanted to change the subject. “Brenda, do you think WICKED’ll start forcing us to do things? Start messing with us, manipulating us, whatever?”

“That’s why we need to find Hans.” She shrugged. “I can only guess what WICKED will do. Every other time I’ve seen them control someone with the device in their brain, that person has been close and under observation. Since you guys are running and they have no way of seeing exactly what you’re doing, they might not want to risk it.”

“Why not?” Newt asked. “Why don’t they just make us stab ourselves in the leg or chain ourselves to a chair until they find us?”

“Like I said, they’re not close enough,” Brenda answered. “They obviously need you guys. They can’t risk you getting hurt or dying. I bet they have all kinds of people coming after you. Once they get close enough to observe, then they might start doing things to mess with your head. And I have a pretty good feeling they will—which is why getting to Denver is a must.”

Thomas’s mind had already been made up. “We’re going and that’s that. And I say we wait a hundred years before we have another meeting to talk about stuff.”

“Good that,” Minho said. “I’m with you.”

That was two out of three. Everyone looked at Newt.

“I’m a Crank,” the older boy said. “Doesn’t matter what I bloody think.”

“We can get you into the city,” Brenda said, ignoring him. “At least long enough to have Hans work on your head. We’ll just be really careful to keep you away fr—”

Newt stood up in a blur of speed and punched the wall behind his chair. “First of all, it doesn’t matter if I have the thing in my brain—I’m gonna be past the buggin’ Gone before too long anyway. And I don’t wanna die knowing I ran around a city of healthy people and infected them.”

Thomas remembered the envelope in his pocket, a thing he’d almost forgotten about until now. His fingers twitched to pull it out and read it.

No one said anything.

Newt’s expression darkened. “Well, don’t hurt yourselves tryin’ to talk me into it,” he finally growled. “We all know WICKED’s fancy cure is never gonna work, and I wouldn’t want it to. Not much to live for on this piece-of-klunk planet. I’ll stay on the Berg while you guys go into the city.” He turned and stomped away, disappearing around the corner to the common area.

“That went well,” Minho muttered. “Guess the Gathering is over.” He got up and followed his friend.

Brenda frowned, then focused on Thomas. “You’re—we’re—doing the right thing.”

“I don’t think there is a right or wrong anymore,” Thomas said, hearing the numbness in his own voice. He desperately wanted sleep. “Only horrible and not-quite-so-horrible.”

He got up to join the other two Gladers, fingering the note in his pocket. What could it possibly say? he wondered as he walked out. And how would he ever know when the right time to open it had come?

CHAPTER 23

Thomas hadn’t had much time to think about what the world outside of WICKED’s control would be like. But now that they were actually going to face it, his nerves lit up with anticipation and butterflies filled his stomach. He was about to enter uncharted territory.

“You guys ready for this?” Brenda asked. They stood outside the Berg, at the foot of the cargo door ramp, just a hundred feet or so in front of a cement wall with big iron doors.

Jorge let out a snort. “I forgot what an inviting place they have here.”

“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Thomas asked him.

“Just keep your mouth shut, hermano, and leave things to me. We’re using our real first names with fake last names. All they’ll really care about in the end is that we’re immune—they’ll love putting us on record. We won’t have more than a day or two before they hunt us down to do something for the government. We’re valuable. And I can’t stress it enough—Thomas, you need to keep that yapper of yours closed.”