The Fever Code (The Maze Runner 0.6)

“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.

—

The hours dragged.

He desperately wanted to sleep so that he’d be rested for his planned excursion, but it took forever to finally doze off, and then dinner came and ruined it. He ate, rested, finally fell asleep again.

He came awake with a start to a darkened room. Worried he’d wasted the entire night, he quickly checked the time—just a few minutes past midnight. He took a quick shower to wash away the grogginess, got dressed, then found himself standing in front of his door again, hesitant, full of doubts. He could ruin everything by wandering the hallways. Ruin the chance to work on WICKED’s crazy, insane project to build giant mazes underground. Ruin his chance to be with Teresa and others.

He sighed, angry at the dent in his enthusiasm. Maybe there was a time mechanism and the door would be locked. Oh well. They weren’t going to punish him for opening a stupid door, or even for venturing into the hallway. He could always take a peek and then come back if it felt wrong.

Something clicked and then the door swung several inches toward him.

At first he didn’t understand what had happened—he actually looked down at his hands to see if they’d acted on their own and turned the handle. But they were at his sides, palms sweaty. No, someone had opened the door from the other side.

He leaned his head around the edge of the frame and his heart leapt when he saw a complete stranger staring back at him. A boy about his age. No, not a stranger. The kid just looked different because his blond hair wasn’t covered with a bandage and he was a little older.

“Hey, I’m Newt,” the boy whispered. “And I know bloody well who you are. Which is why we’ve decided to finally snag you. Come on, I want to show you something.”





224.10.15 | 12:58 a.m.

Thomas had never had to think so fast in his life. A thousand things went through his mind in the two or three seconds before he answered Newt. Should he actually go with the boy or slam the door in his face? How could Newt have possibly showed up on the very night that Thomas had discovered his door unlocked and planned to go out on his own? In a place like WICKED, he didn’t believe in coincidences—anything might be a test of some sort. What did this kid want to show him? Was it a trap? Should he invite him into his room and grill him about it? What if—

“Okay,” he finally said, stepping into the hallway. He closed the door behind him, then quickly checked to make sure it didn’t lock on him. It didn’t. He turned to Newt and asked, “Can we take Teresa with us? She’s right next to me.”

Newt huffed. “This isn’t a slumber party.” But then he grinned mischievously. “I actually woke her up before coming to you. She’s getting dressed. Nab her and let’s go. We only have an hour or two.”

Thomas stepped over to 31K and opened the door, still bewildered. None of the doors were locked? Really? When he stepped inside, Teresa was sitting at her desk, fully dressed. She stood up immediately, looking battle ready until it registered that her intruder was Thomas.

“What…,” she started, but didn’t finish. “Do you know…” That didn’t get completed, either.

“All I know is there’s a kid named Newt in the hall,” Thomas said to Teresa, “and he says he has something to show us. And I think we should go.” She was by his side and opening the door before he could finish the last sentence.

“Okay, then,” he said as he followed her into the hallway.

“Hello again,” she said to Newt, who responded with a friendly nod.

“We’ve heard about the two of you,” the new boy said, “and those kids Aris and Rachel.” If it weren’t for the kind look on his face, Thomas would have been suspicious of his direct words.

“What’s going on?” Thomas asked. “Are you sure this is okay? What if we get caught?”

“Don’t be such a worrywart,” Newt replied. “If they catch us, what’re they gonna do? Lock you up in your room?”

Thomas knew exactly what they could do—take away the new opportunity with the mazes. He tried to communicate that to Teresa with his eyes. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

“Good point,” Teresa said, eyeing Thomas back with a look defying him to challenge her. “Let’s go.” She paused. “Wait, where are we going again?”

Newt laughed through his nose. “First things first. Let’s meet Alby and Minho.”

With those words, Thomas couldn’t say no.

—

Sweat trickled down the back of Thomas’s neck as Newt led them through various halls, through doors, up and down stairwells. Who needed a maze when their very complex served as one? Thomas expected Dr. Leavitt or someone worse to pop out at any minute, catching them in the act. Things had been looking up that day—he really didn’t want to ruin it. But then again, he was having the time of his life. It felt good to take a risk, step out on a ledge.

They ended up in a dimly lit hall in the basement, where the last door had a sign that said MAINTENANCE.

“This is our favorite hiding spot,” Newt said, pride in his voice. He opened the door and ushered them into a large dusty room filled with wooden tables and cleaning equipment, boxes, a million other odds and ends.

“What’s up, gents?”