The Fever Code

by James Dashner

  As they left the conference room and headed back to their rooms, winding through the hallways, stairs, and elevators of the complex, McVoy’s parting words echoed through Thomas’s mind. A part of WICKED.

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  —

  Dr. Paige told Thomas that he had the rest of the day off to rest, relax, and think about things. He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. What he really wanted to do, though, was hang out with Teresa, to talk through it all. His mind spun with the life-changing things he’d heard and seen that day, and he needed Teresa’s help to process it all.

  He looked at his door. It was closed, as always. And for as long as he could remember, it automatically locked upon closing. But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d tried it. For months, maybe even a year or two, he’d just always assumed it was locked and didn’t bother. Well, now he had a reason to give it a shot.

  He rolled out of bed and went to the door. Slowly, he reached out, as if it might electrocute him upon touch. He grabbed the handle and turned.

  The door popped open.

  Thomas pushed it closed and ran back to his bed, his heart thumping in his ears. He looked around, wondered about the many, many ways they kept tabs on him. Cameras, microphones, sensors, who knew what else—some were in plain sight, some he couldn’t see at all. The fear he suddenly felt wasn’t rational—all he’d done was open the door a crack and then close it. WICKED had treated him well, for the most part. He hadn’t even seen Randall in a long time. Why the sudden chill icing his bones?

  They watched his every move—he was sure of it. Maybe that was why they’d stopped locking the doors. For all he knew, they wanted him to leave, to observe him, to see what happened. Or it was possible that his obedience in staying put all these years was what had ensured his rise to the top along with Teresa and those other two kids. Could that be it?

  It took a while, but his heart finally calmed, and the sweat that had dampened his face and arms evaporated. He stared at the door, pretending, even to himself, that what would happen next was actually up for debate. It wasn’t, and he knew it. Something would have to strike him dead to prevent him from exploring.

  But he had to be smart about it. He would wait until nighttime.

  The fear turned to pure anticipation.

  —

  The hours dragged.

  He desperately wanted to sleep so that he’d be rested for his planned excursion, but it took forever to finally doze off, and then dinner came and ruined it. He ate, rested, finally fell asleep again.

  He came awake with a start to a darkened room. Worried he’d wasted the entire night, he quickly checked the time—just a few minutes past midnight. He took a quick shower to wash away the grogginess, got dressed, then found himself standing in front of his door again, hesitant, full of doubts. He could ruin everything by wandering the hallways. Ruin the chance to work on WICKED’s crazy, insane project to build giant mazes underground. Ruin his chance to be with Teresa and others.

  He sighed, angry at the dent in his enthusiasm. Maybe there was a time mechanism and the door would be locked. Oh well. They weren’t going to punish him for opening a stupid door, or even for venturing into the hallway. He could always take a peek and then come back if it felt wrong.

  Something clicked and then the door swung several inches toward him.

  At first he didn’t understand what had happened—he actually looked down at his hands to see if they’d acted on their own and turned the handle. But they were at his sides, palms sweaty. No, someone had opened the door from the other side.

  He leaned his head around the edge of the frame and his heart leapt when he saw a complete stranger staring back at him. A boy about his age. No, not a stranger. The kid just looked different because his blond hair wasn’t covered with a bandage and he was a little older.

  “Hey, I’m Newt,” the boy whispered. “And I know bloody well who you are. Which is why we’ve decided to finally snag you. Come on, I want to show you something.”

  224.10.15 | 12:58 a.m.

  Thomas had never had to think so fast in his life. A thousand things went through his mind in the two or three seconds before he answered Newt. Should he actually go with the boy or slam the door in his face? How could Newt have possibly showed up on the very night that Thomas had discovered his door unlocked and planned to go out on his own? In a place like WICKED, he didn’t believe in coincidences—anything might be a test of some sort. What did this kid want to show him? Was it a trap? Should he invite him into his room and grill him about it? What if—

  “Okay,” he finally said, stepping into the hallway. He closed the door behind him, then quickly checked to make sure it didn’t lock on him. It didn’t. He turned to Newt and asked, “Can we take Teresa with us? She’s right next to me.”

  Newt huffed. “This isn’t a slumber party.” But then he grinned mischievously. “I actually woke her up before coming to you. She’s getting dressed. Nab her and let’s go. We only have an hour or two.”

  Thomas stepped over to 31K and opened the door, still bewildered. None of the doors were locked? Really? When he stepped inside, Teresa was sitting at her desk, fully dressed. She stood up immediately, looking battle ready until it registered that her intruder was Thomas.

  “What…,” she started, but didn’t finish. “Do you know…” That didn’t get completed, either.

  “All I know is there’s a kid named Newt in the hall,” Thomas said to Teresa, “and he says he has something to show us. And I think we should go.” She was by his side and opening the door before he could finish the last sentence.

  “Okay, then,” he said as he followed her into the hallway.

  “Hello again,” she said to Newt, who responded with a friendly nod.

  “We’ve heard about the two of you,” the new boy said, “and those kids Aris and Rachel.” If it weren’t for the kind look on his face, Thomas would have been suspicious of his direct words.

  “What’s going on?” Thomas asked. “Are you sure this is okay? What if we get caught?”

  “Don’t be such a worrywart,” Newt replied. “If they catch us, what’re they gonna do? Lock you up in your room?”

  Thomas knew exactly what they could do—take away the new opportunity with the mazes. He tried to communicate that to Teresa with his eyes. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

  “Good point,” Teresa said, eyeing Thomas back with a look defying him to challenge her. “Let’s go.” She paused. “Wait, where are we going again?”

  Newt laughed through his nose. “First things first. Let’s meet Alby and Minho.”

  With those words, Thomas couldn’t say no.

  —

  Sweat trickled down the back of Thomas’s neck as Newt led them through various halls, through doors, up and down stairwells. Who needed a maze when their very complex served as one? Thomas expected Dr. Leavitt or someone worse to pop out at any minute, catching them in the act. Things had been looking up that day—he really didn’t want to ruin it. But then again, he was having the time of his life. It felt good to take a risk, step out on a ledge.

  They ended up in a dimly lit hall in the basement, where the last door had a sign that said MAINTENANCE.

  “This is our favorite hiding spot,” Newt said, pride in his voice. He opened the door and ushered them into a large dusty room filled with wooden tables and cleaning equipment, boxes, a million other odds and ends.

  “What’s up, gents?”

  The greeting came from Minho—the boy Thomas had met in the hallway during the crazy day of the implants. He seemed a lot happier now than he had then, screaming and yelling like the world had come to an end. Thomas wondered if he even remembered the ordeal.

  “Would you stop saying gents?” another boy said, dark-skinned and older, with the wisest eyes Thomas had ever seen. “It’s not funny, and it’s gettin’ on my nerves.”

  The rebuke didn’t faze Minho in the least. He walked up, a
huge smile on his face, and hugged Thomas, then Teresa, the last thing either of them had expected. But Thomas had to admit it felt pretty good. Dr. Paige might be a nice lady, but he hadn’t felt this kind of warmth in years. Maybe not since he’d said goodbye to his mom.

  Teresa seemed as stunned by the situation as he did, but she also had a small grin on her face. They were having fun.

  “You two seem cooler than I thought,” Minho said as he stepped back. “I was expecting a couple of greasy-haired, bucktoothed weirdos quoting Shakespeare and writing out math problems on your hands. You actually look half normal!”

  “Thanks?” Thomas said it as a question.

  The other boy stepped forward and pushed Minho out of the way. “I’m Alby,” he said. “Good to meet you guys. Minho actually for once has a good point. With all the rumors about you highfalutin folks, we didn’t know what to expect. And that’s why we brought you here today. To check you out. It’s nice to see you’re not too bad, by the looks of it.”

  It was Teresa’s turn to say thanks with a question mark. That made everyone laugh and broke the ice a bit.

  “So,” Thomas said, not sure where to begin, “how long have you guys been sneaking out like this? It’s obviously not the first time.”

  “Nope,” Alby replied. “It gets so boring following all their rules, doing everything they tell us to. And yeah, they might know what we’re doing—we’re not idiots. But hey, until they actually come out and tell us to stop, we ain’t stopping.” He turned to Minho and Newt. “Am I right, guys?”

  Minho whooped a cheer and Newt gave a bored thumbs-up.

  “What are all these rumors about us that you guys keep bringing up?” Teresa asked. “And why are we isolated from you? It seems like you three have known each other for years. Thomas and I just met.” She looked at him, and something in her eyes said she’d almost mentioned the mazes but caught herself at the last second. That the mazes should be their secret for now.

  Newt, sitting on a stool by the wall, answered her questions. “Honestly, we don’t know what’s different about you and those other two. The rest of us have been sharing a cafeteria, going to the same classes, and all that for over a year. Way I see it, you’re either way smarter or way dumber than us.”

  “Way smarter, obviously,” Teresa said. Her sassy reply threw everyone off kilter for a beat, but then Alby clapped and laughed, and the ice broke just a little more.

  “Man, I like you guys,” he said.

  “Look,” Minho said, “as much as I’d like to say we’re just being nice inviting you down here, I’m guessing you know we have a reason.”

  “Of course,” Teresa quickly answered.

  Minho nodded, an appraising look in his eyes. “Good. Good. We have ideas. Plans. Nothing solid. Nothing too crazy. But information is king, and we feel like we’re in the dark not knowing you two. Though it’ll be a while before there’s complete trust. Fair enough?”

  “Fair enough,” Thomas replied. “We’ll tell you what we know if you tell us what you know.”

  Minho smiled. “Nice. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There’ll be plenty of other chances to talk. First we wanna just get to know you, maybe show you around a bit. Have some fun. The serious stuff can come in a few weeks or so. When we know you better. Sound good?”

  Thomas and Teresa looked at each other and shrugged. They both turned back and said yes.

  Newt hopped off his stool and went to the door. “Let’s get out of here before we get cabin fever,” he said. “I know a good place to start their tour—let’s go show them Group B.”

  224.10.15 | 2:03 a.m.

  Thomas had never heard the words Group B before, but they definitely piqued his interest. He also noticed a shadow cross over Newt’s face when he said it, and a look of discomfort pass over his friends Alby and Minho.

  Something was weird about it, but that only intrigued Thomas even more.

  Newt led their little group of five down the basement hallway until they came to a small, unmarked door that only came up to Thomas’s waist. It had a latch and padlock, but the lock had been broken long ago, its surface covered in orange rust—this area of WICKED was obviously off the beaten path. Newt bent down and opened the little door, then crawled through. Thomas gave Alby a questioning look, and Alby leaned in to whisper something in his ear.

  “This is sort of like a ritual for us.” Teresa had come close so that she could hear, too. “Newt thinks up reasons to make it happen. See, they have his little sister over there, and when he says he wants to go see her…Well, we learned months ago that you better just go along with it or there’ll be hell to pay. You got me? Family, man. It’s something most of us don’t have anymore. Come on.”

  The trip was a dusty one, involving ladders and grimy passages barely wider than Thomas’s hips. Minho said something about it being a secret escape route from years ago. No one really knew what the original purpose of the building had been before WICKED took over.

  They finally reached their destination, a loft of sorts dotted with dirty windows overlooking a huge barracks full of bunks. And those bunks were full of sleeping kids. Thomas strained his eyes, looking up and down the rows. As far as he could tell—based on hair length and what he could see of the faces illuminated by the scant light—there wasn’t a single boy in the entire room.

  Thomas didn’t know what to think. It was such a contrast to the private rooms in which he and Teresa slept.

  “They call us Group A,” Alby explained. “And this is Group B. We’re all boys, they’re all girls. How Aris and Teresa here fit into all that, I don’t get. I mean, I guess it makes sense to separate us. Who knows.”

  “So you guys live in a place like this?” Teresa asked.

  Minho answered. “Yep. I think I could handle transferring to Group B, though. Someone remind me to put in a request.”

  “Why are we…” Thomas trailed off. The question was obvious, and he suddenly had the absurd feeling that it’d come across as bragging if he asked it.

  “Special?” Alby asked. “That’s what we hope to find out from you.”

  “Looks like you know more than us,” Teresa said in an absent voice. Her mind was spinning, Thomas could tell. He wished he could take a peek inside her brain, see what churned there.

  He looked at Newt. The boy stood silent, looking through a window a few feet down from them. Thomas walked over to him.

  “What’re you looking at?” Thomas asked, even though he knew.

  Newt sniffed, and Thomas noticed for the first time that the boy was crying.

  “You see her?” he said, the tip of his index finger touching the glass. “Far row, third one from the left side.”

  Thomas saw a girl curled up under a blanket, her arms wrapped around a pillow, dark hair spilling out. “Yeah. That your sister?”

  Newt looked at him in surprise. “That’s right. Her name’s Lizzy.” A long pause, during which his head sank until it rested against the window. “At least, it used to be. They may think they have us all brainwashed with our new names, but no way I’ll ever forget hers.”

  “What did they change it to?” Thomas asked.

  “Sonya.” Bitterness filled his voice. “Can you believe that? They renamed her Sonya.” He coughed. Or sobbed. Something. His eyes glistened in the gloom. “And WICKED’s so mean about it. They won’t let me see her, and I’ve had to pretend that I’ve forgotten it all or they…punish me.”

  Thomas was stunned. For the first time since the man named Randall had hurt him, he felt a sudden and shocking anger toward the people behind it all. Toward WICKED. Here stood a boy, a few dozen feet from his own sister, and he couldn’t even pretend to know her.

  “I did as they asked, I stopped using my real name,” Newt continued. “I think I was one of the last holdouts. But hers I’ll never forget. They’ll have to kill me first.”

  “I’m sorry,” Thomas whispered, not sure what to say. His own heart ached thinking of his mom, and j
ust how impossibly hard it would be if she lay in a bed in the barracks below him. How could he not break the glass and go to her? How?

  Newt stood up straight and wiped the tears from his eyes. He appeared to feel no shame whatsoever at letting anyone see him cry.

  “That’s the way of things, Tommy,” he said, his voice not quite steady. “The world outside’s gone to hell. Why should we expect any different in here? At least I can see her there, sleeping peacefully. How many people in this world would chop off their own arm to be able to say that about someone they love who’s dead and gone? It’s just the way of things.”

  He said it as if they’d been friends for years.

  Teresa came up behind Thomas, leaned in against his back.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Newt was just showing me his sister down there.”

  “We better not push our luck tonight,” Alby said. “Let’s go get some shut-eye until the wake-up, then do this all over again tomorrow. What do you say?”

  Everyone agreed. As they walked back, a somber silence hung over them, and the journey seemed much longer than before. Thomas had hoped they’d have time to compare what they did and didn’t know, but it looked like that was going to have to wait. Goodbyes were said and ways were parted.

  Thomas made it back to his room without incident, said goodnight to Teresa—quickly, worried someone might appear in the hallway—then went inside and crashed on the bed without getting undressed. He fell asleep far faster than he would have imagined after all that had happened.

  Throughout his shortened night, he dreamed of Newt and Sonya.

  Of Newt and Lizzy.

  —

  The next few days and nights went by in a whirlwind of discovery and exhaustion; Thomas got less than three or four hours of sleep each night. The morning alarm was like a dagger in his skull, and his head never stopped aching throughout the long, long days of schooling. He waited for Dr. Paige or Dr. Leavitt or one of his teachers to comment on his nighttime escapades, or worse, an armed WICKED guard to whisk him away to a holding cell. But no one acted like anything was out of the ordinary.