“Thomas, I have faith in you,” a woman said to him as he fought to regain consciousness. He didn’t
recognize the voice, but it was somehow soft and authoritative at the same time. He continued struggling,
heard himself moan, felt himself shifting in his bed.
Finally, he opened his eyes. Blinking against the brightness of the overhead lights, he noticed a door
closing behind whoever had been there to wake him.
“Wait,” he said, but it came out as nothing more than a gravelly whisper.
By force of will he got his elbows under him and pushed himself up. He was alone in the room, the
only sounds distant shouts and an occasional rumble like thunder. His mind began to clear, and he realized
that other than a little grogginess, he felt fine. Which meant that, unless the miracles of science had really
taken a leap, he also still had his brain.
A manila folder on the table beside his bed caught his attention. In big red letters, Thomas had been
written across the front of it. He swung his legs around to sit up on the edge of the mattress and grabbed
the folder.
There were two pieces of paper inside. The first was a map of the WICKED complex, with black
marker tracing several routes through the building. He quickly scanned the second: it was a letter,
addressed to him and signed by Chancellor Paige. He put the map down and started to read the letter from
the beginning.
Dear Thomas,
It’s my belief that the Trials are over. We have more than enough data to create a blueprint. My
associates disagree with me on this matter, but I was able to stop this procedure and save your life.
It’s now our task to work with the data we already have and build a cure for the Flare. Your
participation, and that of the other subjects, is no longer necessary.
You now have a great task ahead of you. When I became chancellor I realized the importance of
creating a back door of sorts to this building. I placed this back door in an unused maintenance room.
I’m asking you to remove yourself, your friends, and the considerable number of Immunes we’ve
gathered. Time is of the essence, as I’m sure you’re aware.
There are three paths marked on the map I’ve enclosed. The first shows you how to leave this
building through a tunnel—once outside, you’ll be able to find where the Right Arm has made their
own entrance to another building. There, you can join them. The second route will show you how to
get to the Immunes. The third shows you how to find the back door. It’s a Flat Trans that will
transport you to what I hope will be a new life. Take them all and leave.
Ava Paige, Chancellor
Thomas stared at the paper, his mind in a spin. Another rumble sounded far away and jarred him back
to reality. He trusted Brenda, and she trusted the chancellor. All he could do now was move.
He folded the letter and the map and stuffed them in his back pocket, then slowly stood up. Surprised at
how quickly his strength had returned, he ran to the door. A peek out into the hallway showed that it was
empty. He slipped out, and just as he did, two people came running by from behind. They didn’t so much
as glance at him, and Thomas realized that the chaos brought about by the Right Arm’s attack might be the
thing that ended up saving him.
He pulled out the map and studied it carefully, following the black line that led to the tunnel. It
wouldn’t take long at all to get to it. He memorized the path and started jogging down the hall, scanning
the two other paths Chancellor Paige had marked on the map as he went.
He had only gone a few yards when he stopped, stunned by what he was seeing. He pulled the map
closer to make sure—maybe he wasn’t reading it right. But there was no mistaking what it showed.
WICKED had hidden the Immunes in the Maze
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