The Rule of Thoughts

by James Dashner

  He remembered the thousands of times he’d thought about why he loved the Lifeblood game so much: nothing was more exciting, more brutal, more like real life. What an idiot he’d been. The only reason it had been so fun was because it wasn’t real life. Not even close. Nothing like this.

  “Maybe we should take a break,” Bryson said. “Sit our butts down.”

  They reached a station full of people heading to or coming from their trains, eyes glued to NetScreens, avoiding each other in a fashion that had always seemed like magic to Michael. But then, walking and Netting at the same time had become as much a part of life as walking and breathing.

  They found a bench and took a seat, Sarah in the middle. No one said a word. Michael leaned back against the cold brick of the subway wall and closed his eyes. He needed to somehow come up with the right words to make Sarah feel better. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault at all.

  She’d done what she had to. Hacked her way into the communications system, sending out a top-level alert to every officer in the building. It said that the “perps” had stolen uniforms and were in the kitchen of the fifty-fourth floor, planting a bomb.

  All she’d hoped for was some confusion and a sense of panic—she’d figured someone might call all the police back long enough for the three of them to escape via a hidden route she’d already mapped out from the building schematics. A route that led to a private maintenance entrance to the tunnels of the subway system.

  Not the greatest plan ever, but they’d been desperate. There had been police a few feet away, and it had only been a matter of moments before they’d checked those cabinets. The fact that someone came in, guns blazing, not even taking the time to make sure they were firing at the right people … how could you expect that?

  Because of Sarah, they had escaped. Stairwells, service elevators, back rooms, heating ducts, fire escapes—Sarah had figured out the best and most secret way to get down to the subway. And they’d been able to do it. But Michael didn’t feel safe at all. It felt like every person in the world was on the lookout for the three fugitives.

  The Trifecta to Dissect-ya, he thought. It should’ve made him smile, but instead he felt even sadder.

  “We can’t sit here like this,” he said. “We need to get away. Hide. Not be seen.” The sense of urgency almost overwhelmed him, made it hard to breathe.

  “Relax,” Sarah replied. He’d never heard her voice sound so hollow. “They think we’re still in the building. I took care of it.”

  Bryson stood up. “We can never relax again. Michael’s right. Come on. Let’s get on a train and take it as far as it goes.”

  They boarded the very next one that pulled into the station.

  They huddled in a corner, leaning close together in their seats to work out what came next. So far no one seemed to recognize their faces, despite their being plastered over the NewsBops.

  “What’re we going to do?” Sarah whispered, so softly that Michael wondered if she might be talking to herself. “How can we possibly find my parents, much less save them?”

  He shrugged. His mind kept wandering to Gabriela, wondering if somehow she could help them. She’d said she’d be with her dad in Atlanta.

  As if Bryson had been reading his mind, he said, “There has to be someone out there who can help us.”

  Sarah breathed out a heavy sigh. “Maybe we should’ve just turned ourselves in.”

  “Don’t even go there,” Michael warned, still not ready to tell them about Gabriela. “Seriously. This isn’t just about some lazy detective looking to blame you for your parents’ kidnapping. People are out to get us. Kaine is out to get us. And who knows how many Tangents he’s downloaded by now. Or why in the world he’s doing it. We turn ourselves in, we’ll be dead come morning.”

  Sarah slowly turned to face him, as if it took all her energy to move that much. “A bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

  “You really need to ask that? After what we’ve been through? I can’t look at anyone anymore without wondering if they’re a Tangent, dying to test out their new human hands and squeeze my throat closed.”

  Sarah sighed again. “If that’s what’s happening,” she murmured.

  Michael knew where they had to go. And he knew that his friends wouldn’t like it. “We need to try the VNS again.”

  Sarah shook her head. “After that sweet, warm reception we got at the junk-hole with Cigar Man? I don’t think so.”

  “Yeah, it didn’t go so well,” Bryson added.

  “I’m telling you,” Michael insisted, “we have to try.”

  Neither of his friends looked convinced.

  “I’m serious!” Michael half shouted.

  “You just said we shouldn’t turn ourselves in!”

  “To the cops.” Michael breathed in, then tried to exhale his frustration. “Look, I know. This is different. I’m not going to waltz into some random VNS branch again. We need to go to Atlanta and find Agent Weber. Break in if we have to. In fact, I think we should break in, because I don’t want to risk getting caught by guards or cops. She’s the only one we can risk talking to.” And if that didn’t work, he’d have to contact Gabriela.

  Bryson wore an expression of genuine disbelief. “We already did that, Michael. You were there, remember? She blew us off.”

  “I know. But there was something weird about it. Maybe our mission on the Path was top-secret, or maybe what happened to me is top-secret. I’m sure of it, actually. I bet only she and a few others know about the Mortality Doctrine, especially that it worked. She came to me, guys. She came to my—to Jackson’s apartment and said that she’d be in touch with me. For all we know, she was threatened by Kaine and now she’s backing off. There’s a ton of possibilities. But she’s the only person on this planet I can imagine giving us a chance. They need us because we’re so close to the situation, and we need them. Someone has to stop what Kaine’s started.”

  Sarah took on a contemplative look. “Maybe she can also help find my parents.”

  “Exactly.” Michael had her. He tried not to show too much relief. She’d come to his side far more quickly than he’d expected. Now they just had to convince Bryson.

  “What do you think?” he asked him. “She’s in Atlanta.”

  Bryson nodded slowly, reluctantly coming on board. “I guess we find a sneaky way to buy bus tickets, then. We can sleep on the road.”

  It was a long, long bus ride ahead of them, and Michael couldn’t get comfortable in his seat. A plane, train, or car—anything would have been a better option, but they couldn’t risk it. A bus seemed the most anonymous mode of transportation. No one seemed to care too much about three shabbily dressed teenagers riding the lonely road to visit some faraway grandma.

  His friends had dozed off quickly, Bryson’s head hilariously bobbing all over the place, and Michael seized the opportunity to contact Gabriela. He wanted to see if she had any value to them before he bothered telling his friends about her. Had to.

  Michael couldn’t risk staying connected to the Net for a long time, but if he could quickly convince her to meet him when they got to Atlanta, they could talk in person. After igniting his NetScreen, it didn’t take long to find her information and send a message, using a brand-new fake ID. She responded almost immediately.

  MichaelPeterson240: Gabby, it’s Jax. We need to talk.

  GabbyWonderWoman: Hi.

  MichaelPeterson240: Oh. Hi. That was fast.

  GabbyWonderWoman: I noticed all your accounts vanished.

  MichaelPeterson240: My Jackson accounts?

  GabbyWonderWoman: Yeah.

  MichaelPeterson240: Yeah. Look, I needed WAY more time to explain everything.

  GabbyWonderWoman: No. No one could possibly be that stupid.

  MichaelPeterson240: Exactly.

  GabbyWonderWoman: Consider me the most confused girl in history. Since the Big Bang.

  MichaelPeterson240: I know. I’m just as confused about most of it.

&
nbsp; GabbyWonderWoman: Are you really trying to tell me you’re not Jax?

  MichaelPeterson240: Give me a chance to explain in person.

  GabbyWonderWoman: Okay. I need to see you, too. I’m going crazy.

  MichaelPeterson240: Okay. I’m sorry. About all this. Bye.

  GabbyWonderWoman: I love you.

  Michael saw that last line and let out a breath. Not knowing what else to do, he quickly exited the conversation and turned off his EarCuff. He stared at the now-dark spot where the NetScreen had been hovering, his heart hammering, his thoughts flying. The bus hummed and bounced along the night-black road.

  Gabriela’s dad worked for the VNS. VNS security, which was redundant, like she said. Things made a little more sense now. Kaine wanted that inside track for some reason, which was why he’d sent Michael into Jackson’s body through the Mortality Doctrine. And now, no matter how guilty it made him feel, Michael was going to take advantage of the connection himself, if for nothing else, to find out more about the VNS. And at best, to find a way inside their headquarters for a meeting with Agent Weber. In person.

  Michael settled himself and closed his eyes, leaning against the cool glass of the window. The vibration of the bus, the thrum of the tires on the road, the inviting darkness—it all started to lull him to sleep. On some level, he knew the real reason he wanted to see Gabriela again. Gabby. She was real, a tether linking his new life to its origins. And … she loved him. It was all messed up.

  Feeling ridiculous, he let dreams take him away.

  They had to change vehicles in a town right outside the Kentucky border and found themselves with a couple of hours to kill. Hungry and tired, their options limited, they headed for a dump of a café. A full day had passed, and darkness had settled on the small dusty town. Maybe it was the humidity, but Michael felt damp and itchy and dirty.

  And now he had to tell his friends about Gabby.

  They were in a booth, Bryson across from Michael and Sarah. Michael had just taken a bite of a turkey club sandwich, washing it down with warm water—the bored waitress had graced him with all of one ice cube—when he got up his nerve.

  “So,” he began, swallowing, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Turns out Jackson Porter had a girlfriend. I actually ran into her a couple of times before I found you guys.” He waited, acting casual but feeling like he’d just revealed his dirtiest, darkest secret.

  Bryson and Sarah just looked at him. But they’d stopped chewing.

  “I think she might be what Kaine was talking about,” he continued, “when he said he chose Jackson for a reason. Her dad works for the VNS. Does security for them. In Atlanta, actually. Maybe we can use the connection ourselves, to our advantage.” He took another big bite of his sandwich, glad he’d finally gotten that off his chest.

  Bryson had an astonished look on his face. “What are you talking about? You’re just bringing this up now?”

  Sarah stayed silent, the fuming kind of silent.

  “Uh, yeah,” Michael replied. “I didn’t think it was a big deal until Kaine hinted at it. So I, uh, told her to meet us in Atlanta. I think we should talk to her. See if she can help us. Or if she knows anything. And she’s not being hunted by the media and cops, either. I don’t know.” Now that it was all out, it suddenly seemed like the worst idea ever.

  Sarah dropped her fork. “Michael. How can you possibly risk bringing someone else in on this?” She leaned back in her seat and folded her arms.

  Bryson was shaking his head. He looked confused.

  Michael tried to smooth it over. “Guys, don’t worry. I was careful. And I feel like I owe it to her to try to explain what happened. I really feel like we need to talk to her. Together.”

  “You should’ve asked us first,” Sarah said sharply.

  Michael looked at Bryson, and he nodded, once, in agreement.

  “I’m sorry,” Michael said. “You’re right. I should’ve. It just didn’t seem like a big deal, and I … wanted to make things right with her. Make her feel better. And I just had a feeling that she can help us somehow. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  They lapsed into silence, picking at their food. Michael felt like an idiot.

  He took another sip of his drink, almost choking when he noticed a young couple a few tables away staring straight at him. The man had dark hair, swept back in a gel-hardened style that looked either cutting-edge or fifty years out of date; Michael couldn’t tell. The man was thin, his cheeks packed with acne scars. His companion, a woman with short red hair and eyes the color of dying grass, had leaned her head against the man’s shoulder. No food—not even a drink—sat on the table in front of them. And they were both staring at Michael.

  “Check that out,” he said to Sarah, voice low. He gave a slight nod in the direction of the couple. A chill worked its way up his spine.

  Sarah stiffened. “We better get out of here.”

  Bryson had his back to the man and woman. He noticed his friends’ attention, though, and turned to take a look. He swung back, face a little pale.

  “Okay, that’s just not right,” he said. “Let’s skedaddle.”

  Michael grabbed his sandwich and a handful of fries as Sarah paid the waitress, and continued eating as he walked toward the exit, the strangers’ stares like lasers between his shoulders. He fought the urge to look back at them.

  Although his friends hadn’t said it, Michael knew what they were thinking. That it couldn’t be a coincidence, this odd pair staring at them right after Michael had contacted someone using the Net.

  He hoped he hadn’t made a terrible mistake.

  Michael finished his food just as he found a seat on the new bus. He brushed the crumbs off his lap and wiped the grease on his jeans like a five-year-old, then leaned his head against the window, keeping his eyes on the café down the street. Somehow, deep down, he knew what was going to happen. It wasn’t a minute later when the couple came out the door, their hands clasped, arms swinging in a sweet romantic gesture. They turned and walked toward the bus station.

  “Crap,” he said.

  “They’re following us?” Sarah asked.

  Bryson was across the aisle, and he got up and leaned over them to look out the window. “If they get on this bus, I’m getting off.”

  “That makes three of us,” Michael agreed, thankful no one was mentioning his girlfriend. Jackson’s girlfriend.

  He watched as the man and woman got closer.

  Bryson went back to his seat and plopped down with a sigh. “You know, all those years we talked about getting together in the Wake … this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. Being chased across the country. On a bus.”

  Michael only half listened to Bryson complain, concentrating on the mysterious couple. They kept meandering about, oddly crisscrossing the street a couple of times, but they still headed for the bus. The driver had boarded by then, and was cranking up the engine. Most of the other passengers were in their seats as well, and Michael wished they could just get on with it. He wanted to be as far away from the spooky man and woman as possible, as soon as possible.

  But they kept coming. Soon they abandoned any pretense of exploring the town and started walking briskly toward the bus. Toward Michael. They even seemed to be cutting a direct line to his very window.

  “Who are these people?” he said under his breath, goose bumps standing up on his arms.

  “You think they’re Tangents?” Sarah asked.

  Michael shrugged. He willed the bus to start moving, but nothing was happening. Step by deliberate step, the couple approached.

  “Come on,” Michael said tightly, glancing up at the driver. The man shifted about in his seat, checking instruments and moving things around, adjusting himself. Everything but driving.

  A look back at the man and woman showed them only a few feet away. Michael almost gasped—it was like they’d sped up time, leaping ahead in a quantum burst. And then they were right below his window, craning their necks to see him, though he
didn’t know how well they could in the darkness. But their eyes found his and they grew still.

  Michael’s nerves were officially on fire. “What should we do? Get off?”

  Sarah squeezed his shoulder as she leaned in to get a better view of their visitors. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

  He looked once again at the driver, who had finally settled down. It seemed that he was finally about to pull out. The man reached for a lever.

  Michael returned his attention to the couple outside his window. The woman slowly raised a hand, fingers slightly crooked but outstretched, palm outward, until her arm was fully above her head, the index finger pointing at Michael. Both the man and the woman had dazed expressions on their faces. They stared at Michael as if in wonder. His throat clenched.

  Before anything else could happen, the bus lurched into motion with a grumpy roar, jolting everyone on board, and pulled away. The couple stood in the street, holding hands, watching longingly as the bus left them behind.

  They rode through the night, making it to Atlanta in the early morning without further incident. Michael, exhausted, slept well despite the creepy chills from the strange encounter at the diner. He and his friends got off the bus, ate a quick breakfast, then made their way through the city, doing their best to keep to themselves. Their destination was close; they could see it in brief glimpses between buildings as they walked.

  The parking lot of the Falcons’ stadium.

  Where everything had started.

  Michael had only one thing to go on when it came to finding Agent Weber and forcing her to meet with him, and he was banking on the fact that Lifeblood Deep had been created to replicate the real world as much as humanly possible.

  It was weird to remember that day when he’d been taken to the stadium parking lot, where a secret entrance opened up to reveal a massive VNS headquarters down below. It was weird because he’d been in the Sleep, and none of it was real. When Agent Weber came to see him after he’d been inserted into a human body, she’d pretty much told him that everything they’d discussed had been real, that his mission was real. Just not the world in which it had taken place.