The Fever Code (The Maze Runner 0.6)(75)
Newt reached out and started climbing the ivy.
His muscled arms made it look easy. Gripping one vine, he’d pull himself up high enough to find purchase somewhere in the stone with his feet. Then he’d grab another vine, and another, using both hands, both feet, and all his strength. He scaled the stone and ivy, reaching the halfway point between the ground and the false sky in a matter of minutes. Thomas knew that this was where he would think he couldn’t go much farther. A combination of built-in optical illusions and preprogrammed repressors within his implant would guarantee he’d never make it to the top. He did climb several more feet; then he stopped, looking toward the sky, beaten.
Thomas watched, and waited.
Newt clung to the ivy on the wall, his whole body almost disappearing behind the greenery. A beetle blade that had been scaling the wall at his side crawled up and stopped within just a few inches from the boy’s face. Not for the first time, Thomas wondered about the software that ran these little mechanical creatures. How did it know what to do, when no one was around to feed them instructions?
Newt looked directly into the camera, and for the first time in this constructed feed, spoke so that Thomas could hear what he said.
“I don’t know who you people are, but I hope you’re happy. I hope you get a real buggin’ kick out of watching us suffer. And then you can die and go to hell. This is on you.”
Newt let go of the vines and kicked away from the wall, plummeting out of the camera’s view. The beetle blade hurried to reposition itself, and all Thomas heard was the rustling of its movement and then a distant hard thump. The view bounced its way down to the ground, then locked on Newt. He was lying on his side with a leg pulled up, arms wrapped around it. He rocked back and forth, groaning. Those groans turned into sobs. A deep, painful cry that made Thomas’s chest hurt.
Newt suddenly let out an anguished howl, then screamed into the air. “I hate you. I hate you!”
Thomas turned off the feed. He couldn’t take it anymore. He already knew that someone had saved him, pulled him out of the maze back to the safety of the Glade. And he couldn’t bear to watch one more second of it.
Newt, Newt, Newt, Thomas thought, feeling as if the very air around him were turning black. You’re not even immune, man. You’re not even immune.
231.09.22 | 11:17 a.m.
Thomas heard a gentle knock on his door and opened it to see Teresa. Things were almost back to normal at WICKED headquarters, as much as possible after something like the Purge had happened.
“Hey,” he said, groggy. “You could’ve just buzzed my head. I was taking a nap.”
In answer, she held up a tablet. “Did you see this?”
“Huh?” He had no idea what she was talking about.
She stepped into his room, brushing past him as he closed the door, and sat down at his desk. “Come here and look at this. Did you send a mass memo out? Or did Dr. Paige ask permission to use your name?”
“What? No.”
“Well.” She gestured to the glowing screen.
Thomas leaned in to take a look.
WICKED Memorandum, Date 231.5.22
TO: The replacements
FROM: Thomas [Subject A2]
RE: The Purge
I take total responsibility for what we’ve had to do over the last few days.
What we have to keep in mind, though, is that WICKED is alive and stronger than ever. The maze is up and running, and our studies are in full swing. We’re on the path and we can’t stray from it.
All I ask is that what we’ve done here remain within the organization and never be referred to again. What’s done is done, and it was a mercy. But now, every waking thought has to be devoted to building the blueprint.
Ava Paige is the new chancellor of WICKED, effective immediately.
Before he had time to process it completely, Teresa took the tablet back from him.
“And look at this other one I found,” she said as she searched for something else. “Supposedly sent by Chancellor Anderson the very day before he typed up that crazy one we saw on his workstation about his fingers. There’s no way he wrote this. Check it out.”
She handed the tablet back to him.
WICKED Memorandum, Date 231.5.4
TO: Fellow Partners
FROM: Kevin Anderson, Chancellor
RE: My farewell to you all
I hope that each one of you will forgive me for doing this in such a cowardly manner, sending you a memo when it’s something I should do in person. However, I have no choice. The effects of the Flare are rampant in my actions, embarrassing and disheartening. And our decision not to allow the narcotic Bliss within our compound means I can’t fake it long enough to say goodbye properly.
Typing these words is difficult enough. But at least I have the ability and time to write and edit in the small windows of sanity left to me.
I don’t know why the virus affected me so quickly and so viciously. I deteriorated far quicker than almost all of the original group. But no matter. I’ve been decommissioned, and my replacement, Ava Paige, is ready to take charge. The Elites are well into their training to serve as the link between us and those who will continue to run WICKED. Ava herself admits that her purpose is almost more like that of a figurehead, with our elite subjects the true rulers.
We are and will continue to be in good hands. The noble cause we began over a decade ago will see itself to fruition. Our efforts, and for almost all of us, our lives, will have been spent justly and for the greater good. The cure will be built.