Thomas was stunned. Mind spinning, he went to sit by Minho.
After struggling for so long to remember his life, his family and childhood—even what he’d done the
day before he woke up in the Maze—the idea of having it all back was almost too much to comprehend.
But as it sank in, he realized that something had shifted. Remembering everything didn’t sound good
anymore. And his gut confirmed what he’d been feeling since the Rat Man had said it was all over—it just
seemed too easy.
Rat Man cleared his throat. “As you were informed in your one-on-ones, the Trials as you’ve known
them are over. Once your memories are restored, I think you’ll believe me and we can move on. You’ve
all been briefed on the Flare and the reasons for the Trials. We are extremely close to completing our
blueprint of the killzone. The things we need—to further refine what we have—will be better served by
your full cooperation and unaltered minds. So, congratulations.”
“I ought to come up there and break your shuck nose,” Minho said. His voice was terrifyingly calm
considering the threat in his words. “I’m sick of you acting like everything is peachy—like more than half
of our friends didn’t die.”
“I’d love to see that rat nose smashed!” Newt snapped.
The anger in his voice startled Thomas, and he had to wonder what awful thing Newt had been through
during Phase Three.
Rat Man rolled his eyes and sighed. “First of all, each of you has been warned of the consequences
should you try to harm me. And rest assured, you’re all still being watched. Second, I’m sorry for those
you’ve lost—but in the end it’ll have been worth it. What concerns me, though, is that it seems that nothing
I say is going to wake you people up to the stakes here. We’re talking about the survival of the human
race.”
Minho sucked in a breath as if to begin a rant, but he stopped short, closed his mouth.
Thomas knew that no matter how sincere Rat Man sounded, it had to be a trick. Everything was a trick.
Yet nothing good could come of their fighting him at this point—with words or with fists. The thing they
needed most for the time being was patience.
“Let’s all just slim it,” Thomas spoke evenly. “Let’s hear him out.”
Frypan spoke up just as Rat Man was about to continue. “Why should we trust you people to … What
was it called? The Swipe? After everything you’ve done to us, to our friends—you want to remove the
Swipe? I don’t think so. I’d rather stay stupid about my past, thank you very kindly.”
“WICKED is good,” Teresa said out of the blue, as if talking to herself.
“What?” Frypan asked. Everyone turned to look at her.
“WICKED is good,” she repeated, much louder, turning in her seat to meet the others’ gazes. “Of all the
things I could’ve written on my arm when I first woke up from my coma, I chose those three words. I keep
thinking about it, and there has to be a reason for that. I say we just shut up and do what the man says. We
can only understand this with our memories back.”
“I agree!” Aris shouted, much louder than seemed necessary.
Thomas was quiet as the room broke into arguments. Mostly between the Gladers, who sided with
Frypan, and the members of Group B, who sided with Teresa. There couldn’t possibly be a worse time
for a battle of wills.
“Silence!” Rat Man roared, pounding his fist on the lectern. He waited for everyone to quiet down
before he continued. “Look, no one’s going to blame you for the mistrust you feel. You’ve been pushed to
your physical limits, watched people die, experienced terror in its purest form. But I promise you, when
all is said and done, none of you will look back—”
“What if we don’t want to?” Frypan called out. “What if we don’t want our memories back?”
Thomas turned to look at his friend, relieved. It was exactly what he’d been thinking himself.
Rat Man sighed. “Is it because you really have no interest in remembering, or is it because you don’t
trust us?”
“Oh, I can’t imagine why we wouldn’t trust you,” Frypan replied.
“Don’t you realize by now that if we wanted to do something to harm you, we’d just do it?” The man
looked down at the lectern, then back up again. “If you don’t want to remove the Swipe, don’t do it. You
can stand by and watch the others.”
A choice or a bluff? Thomas couldn’t tell by the man’s tone but nonetheless was surprised by his
response.
Again the room was silent, and before anyone else could speak, Rat Man had stepped away off the
stage and was walking toward the door at the back of the room. When he reached it, he turned to face them
again. “You really want to spend the rest of your lives having no memory of your parents? Your family
and friends? You really want to lose the chance to hold on to at least the few good memories you may
have had before all this began? Fine with me. But you might never have this opportunity again.”
Thomas considered his decision. It was true that he longed to remember his family. He’d thought about
it so many times. But he did know WICKED. And he wasn’t going to let himself fall into another trap.
He’d fight to the death before letting those people tinker with his brain again. How could he believe any
memory they replaced anyway?
And there was something else bothering him—the flash he’d felt when the Rat Man had first announced
that WICKED would remove the Swipe. Besides knowing that he couldn’t just accept anything WICKED
called his memories, he was scared. If everything they’d been insisting was true was in fact true, he didn’t
want to face his past even if he could. He didn’t understand the person they said he was before. And
more, he didn’t like him.
He watched as the Rat Man opened the door and left the room. As soon as he was gone, Thomas leaned
in close to Minho and Newt so only his friends could hear him. “There’s no way we do this. No way.”
Minho squeezed Thomas’s shoulder. “Amen. Even if I did trust those shanks, why would I want to
remember? Look what it did to Ben and Alby.”
Newt nodded. “We need to make a bloody move soon. And when we do, I’m going to knock a few
heads to make myself feel better.”
Thomas agreed but knew they had to be careful. “Not too soon, though,” he said. “We can’t screw this
up—we need to look for our best chance.” It had been so long since Thomas had felt it, he was surprised
when a sense of strength began to trickle through him. He was reunited with his friends and this was the
end of the Trials—for good. One way or another, they were done doing what WICKED wanted.
They stood up and, as a group, made their way to the door. But as Thomas put his hand on the knob to
pull it open, he stopped. What he was hearing made his heart sink. The rest of the group was still talking,
and most of the others had decided to get their memories back.
* * *
Rat Man was waiting outside the auditorium. He led them down several turns of the windowless hallway
until they finally reached a large steel door. It was heavily bolted and looked to be sealed against outside
air. Their white-clad leader placed a key card next to a square recess in the steel, and after a few clicks,
the large slab of metal slid open with a grinding sound that reminded Thomas of the Doors in the Glade.
Then there was another door; once the group had filed into a small vestibule, the Rat Man closed the
first door and, with the same card, unlocked the second. On the other side was a big room that looked like
nothing special—same tile floors and beige walls as the hallway. Lots of cabinets and counters. And
several beds lined the back wall, each with a menacing, foreign-looking contraption of shiny metal and
plastic tubes in the shape of a mask hanging over it. Thomas couldn’t imagine letting someone place that
thing on his face.
Rat Man gestured toward the beds. “This is how we’re going to remove the Swipe from your brains,”
Rat Man announced. “Don’t worry, I know these devices look frightening, but the procedure won’t hurt
nearly as much as you might think.”
“Nearly as much?” Frypan repeated. “I don’t like the sound of that. So it does hurt, is what you’re
really saying.”
“Of course you’ll experience minor discomfort—it is a surgery,” Rat Man said as he walked over to a
large machine to the left of the beds. It had dozens of blinking lights and buttons and screens. “We’ll be
removing a small device from the part of your brain devoted to long-term memory. But it’s not as bad as it
might sound, I promise.” He started pressing buttons and a buzzing hum filled the room.
“Wait a second,” Teresa said. “Is this going to take away whatever’s in there that lets you control us,
too?”
The image of Teresa inside that shed in the Scorch came to Thomas. And of Alby writhing in bed back
at the Homestead. Of Gally killing Chuck. They were all under WICKED’s control. For the slightest
moment Thomas doubted his decision—could he really allow himself to remain at their mercy? Should he
just let them do the operation? But then the doubt vanished—this was about mistrust. He refused to give
in.
Teresa continued. “And what about …” She faltered, looked at Thomas.
He knew what she was thinking. Their ability to talk telepathically. Not to mention what came with it—
that odd sense of each other when things were working, almost as if they were sharing brains somehow.
Thomas suddenly loved the idea of losing that forever. Maybe the emptiness of having Teresa not there
would disappear too.
Teresa recovered and continued. “Is everything going to be out of there? Everything?”
Rat Man nodded. “Everything except the tiny device that allows us to map your killzone patterns. And
you didn’t have to say what you’re thinking because I can see it in your eyes—no, you and Thomas and
Aris won’t be able to do your little trick anymore. We did turn it off temporarily, but now it’ll be gone
forever. However, you’ll have your long-term memory restored, and we won’t be able to manipulate your
minds. It’s a package deal, I’m afraid. Take it or leave it.”
The others in the room shuffled about, whispered questions to each other. A million things had to be
flying through everyone’s heads. There was so much to think about; there were so many implications. So
many reasons to be angry at WICKED. But the fight seemed to have drained from the group, replaced by
an eagerness to get it all over with.
“That’s a no-brainer,” Frypan said. “Get it? No-brainer?” The only response he got was a groan or
two.
“Okay, I think we’re just about ready,” Rat Man announced. “One last thing, though. Something I need
to tell you before you regain your memories. It’ll be better to hear it from me than to … remember the
testing.”
“What’re you talking about?” Harriett asked.
Rat Man clasped his hands behind his back, his expression suddenly grave. “Some of you are immune
to the Flare. But … some of you aren’t. I’m going to go through the list—please do your best to take it
calmly.”
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