Thomas was done talking, to either of them. But he certainly wasn’t going down without a fight. He
resolved to wait and watch for the best opportunity.
Aris kept his knife pointed at him as Teresa made her way toward the big rectangle of illuminated
green glass. Thomas couldn’t deny his curiosity about the door.
She reached a point where the glow silhouetted her whole body. It made her edges fuzzy, as if she were
dissolving. She walked across the cave until she’d left the light completely, then reached for the stone
wall, started punching a finger on what had to be some sort of keypad that Thomas couldn’t see.
She finished up and stepped back toward him.
“We’ll see if that actually works,” Aris said.
“It will,” Teresa replied.
A loud pop sounded, followed by a sharp hiss. Thomas watched as the right edge of the glass began to
swing outward like a door. As it opened, wispy streams of white mist swirled through the widening
crack, almost immediately evaporating into nothing. It was like a long-abandoned freezer releasing its
cold air into the heat of the night. Darkness lurked inside even as the rectangle of glass continued to emit
its strange green radiance.
So the door wasn’t a window at all, Thomas thought. Just a green door. Maybe toxic waste wasn’t in
his near future. He hoped.
The door finally stopped, thumping with an icy screech against the wall of jagged rock. A pit of black
now lay where the door had once been—there wasn’t enough light to reveal what lay inside. The mist had
completely stopped as well. Thomas felt an abyss of anxiety open up beneath him.
“Do you have a flashlight?” Aris asked.
Teresa put her spear on the ground, then pulled her backpack off and dug through its contents. A
moment later she pulled out a flashlight and flicked it on.
Aris nodded back toward the opening. “Take a look while I watch him. Don’t try anything, Thomas. I’m
pretty sure what they have planned for you is easier than getting stabbed to death.”
Thomas didn’t answer, keeping his pathetic oath to stay silent from here on out. He thought about the
knife and whether he could take it from Aris.
Teresa had stepped up right to the side of the gaping rectangular hole; she shone her flashlight inside.
Swept it up and down, left to right. It cut through a fine cloud of mist as she did so, but the dwindling
moisture was thin enough to reveal the interior.
It was a small room, only several feet deep. Its walls appeared to be made of some silvery metal, their
surfaces broken up by small protrusions maybe an inch high, each ending in a black hole. The little knobs
or spouts were set about five inches apart, making a square grid across the walls.
Teresa turned to Aris, flicking off the flashlight as she did so. “Looks about right,” she said.
Aris snapped his head back to look at Thomas, who had been so focused on the strange room he’d
missed another chance to do something. “Exactly like they said it would be.”
“So … I guess this is it?” Teresa asked.
Aris nodded, then switched his knife to the other hand, holding it more tightly. “This is it. Thomas, be a
good boy and go on inside. Who knows, maybe this is all a big test and once you’re in they’ll let ya go
and we can all have a happy reunion.”
“Shut up, Aris,” Teresa said. It was actually the first thing she’d said in quite some time that didn’t
make Thomas want to punch her. She then turned back to Thomas, avoiding his eyes. “Let’s get this over
with.”
Aris waved his blade, indicating that Thomas should walk forward. “Come on. Don’t make me drag
you in.”
Thomas looked at him, struggling to keep a blank expression as his mind spun in a million directions. A
surge of panic boiled inside him. It was now or never. Fight or die.
He turned his gaze to the open doorway and started slowly walking toward it. Three steps and he’d
halved the distance. Teresa had straightened, her arms tensed in case he caused trouble. Aris kept his
weapon trained on Thomas’s neck.
Another step. Another. Now Aris stood directly to his left, just two or three feet away. Teresa was
behind him, out of sight, the open doorway and the odd silver room with walls covered in holes right in
front of him.
He stopped, looked sideways at Aris. “What did Rachel look like as she bled to death?” It was a
gamble, a pitch to throw him off.
Shocked and hurt, Aris froze, giving Thomas the split second he needed.
He jumped toward the other boy and swung his left arm in an arc to smack the knife out of his hand. It
clattered across the rocks. Thomas slammed his right fist into Aris’s stomach, sending him to the ground,
desperately trying to suck in a breath.
The click of metal against rock stopped Thomas from kicking the boy at his feet. He looked up to see
that Teresa had picked up her spear. They locked eyes for an instant; then she charged him. Thomas threw
his hands up to protect himself but it was too late—the butt of the weapon swung through the air and
smacked him on the side of the head. Stars floated before his eyes as he fell, fighting to stay conscious. As
soon as he hit the ground, he scrambled to his hands and knees to get away.
But he heard Teresa scream, and a second later the wood came crashing down on the top of his skull.
With a thump Thomas collapsed again; something wet oozed through his hair and trickled onto both
temples. Pain tore through his head, as if an axe had been driven straight into his brain. It spread to the
rest of his body, making him nauseated. He somehow pushed off the ground and flopped onto his back to
see Teresa with the weapon raised above her once more.
“Get in the room, Thomas,” she said through heavy breaths. “Get in the room or I’ll hit you again. I
swear I’ll keep doing it till you pass out or bleed to death.”
Aris had recovered and gotten back to his feet; he stood right next to her.
Thomas reared both legs back and kicked out, connecting with a knee on both of them. They screamed
and crumpled, falling on top of each other. The physical effort sent a horrible rush of pain raging through
Thomas. White flashes blinded him; the world was spinning. He groaned as he struggled to move, got
back on his stomach, tried to get his hands under himself. He’d barely pushed a few inches off the ground
when Aris landed on his back, slamming him down. Soon the boy’s arm wrapped around Thomas’s neck,
squeezing.
“You’re going in that room,” Aris spit in his ear. “Help me, Teresa!”
Thomas couldn’t find any strength to fight them off. The double blow to his head had somehow sapped
him of everything, as if all his muscles had gone dormant because his brain didn’t have enough energy to
tell them what to do. Soon Teresa had grabbed both of his arms; she started dragging him toward the open
doorway, Aris pushing him. Thomas kicked feebly. Rocks dug into his skin.
“Don’t do this,” he whispered, giving in to desperation. Every word sent a surge of pain across his
nerves. “Please …” All he saw now were flashes of white on black. A concussion, he realized. He had a
terrible, terrible concussion.
He was barely aware of his body crossing the threshold, of Teresa resting his arms against the cool
metal of the back wall, stepping over him, helping Aris flip his legs up and over so that he now lay in a
heap, facing the side. Thomas couldn’t even find the strength to look at them.
“No,” he said, but it was merely a whisper. The image of the sick boy, Ben, being Banished back in the
Glade swam into his brain. An odd time to think it, but now he knew how that kid had felt in those last
seconds before the walls slammed shut, trapping him in the Maze forever.
“No,” he repeated; it was so quiet he couldn’t imagine they heard him. He ached from head to toe.
“You’re so stubborn,” he heard Teresa say. “You had to make it harder on yourself! Harder on all of
us!”
“Teresa,” Thomas whispered. He dug through the pain and tried to call out to her telepathically, even
though it hadn’t worked in a long time. Teresa.
I’m sorry, Tom, she answered back, in his mind once again. But thanks for being our sacrifice.
He hadn’t realized the door was swinging closed, but it slammed shut just as that last horrible word
floated across his darkening thoughts.
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