Chapter 25.
Thomas had expected to be met by more darkness as he exited the claustrophobic tunnel, but to his surprise, he was blinded by sunlight when the trap door opened. There were several people above him blocking most of the light, but even that level of brightness was too much after spending time in the poorly lit underground.
He blinked a few times, which thankfully made his eyes sting a little less.
He looked down as he continued climbing upward and the light intensified.
He reached the end of the ladder and heaved himself out of the tunnel. To his surprise, the metal surrounding the trap door was white with frost.
He stood up hastily to take in his surroundings.
After his eyes had gotten used to the light, he saw that the door wasn't the only thing covered in frost. The grass glittered as if sprinkled with powdered diamonds. The bushes and trees weren't completely covered in it, but there was the occasional patch of glittering coldness.
The forest was thick, but the sun made its way through the trees in several places. It was around mid-day, by the looks of it, but the frost seemingly hadn't melted all that much. The long climb had made Thomas warm and sweaty, but he could already feel the icy cold pressing in on him from all directions.
The sudden drop in temperature made Thomas disoriented. It had been cold before, but not this cold. How long had they been down in that cell exactly? Surely it hadn't been more than a day. Thomas had thought it would be even less. Of course, he had just been disproven, but he doubted his senses were that off.
He pulled at his mournfully short shirtsleeves in an effort to cover his hands from the chilly air while he waited for the rest of the group to reach the surface. It was taking longer than it should, probably because of the unconscious Sonya.
He looked around at his companions. Newt stood idly beside him. Teresa had struck up a conversation with Brenda, though Thomas couldn't hear what was being said due to a commotion over at the opened trap door. Two of the strangers were trying to help one of their colleagues hoist Sonya out of the tunnel, while Harriet was reminding them (very loudly) to be careful with her friend.
Once that ordeal was over it took less than a minute for the rest of them to make it out.
The door was closed and covered once again with branches. (The branches must've been put back in place after they had entered the previous day, because they were much closer to the trap door than before, having only been slightly displaced when the door was opened a few minutes prior.)
After that, they finally started walking.
The forest turned sparser the farther they went. Thomas could see a thin layer of half-melted snow in several places.
The sun had moved quickly through the sky. They couldn't have been walking for more than two hours, but the sun was already starting to set.
The brisk pace they were holding kept most of his body from getting cold, but it did nothing for his fingers, which were stinging, despite his best attempts to bury them in his sleeves. He didn't look forward to another drop in temperature.
Therefore he was relieved when he spotted houses in the horizon. As they got closer he could see that the buildings stood arranged in neat little rows that kept on going for as far as he could see. There were a few stores and playgrounds sprinkled here and there between the neighborhoods.
It would have looked like a safe and peaceful little village if it hadn't been thoroughly destroyed.
The houses were in various states of ruin, there were cars with smashed windshields parked in the middle of the road; in a small park, a rusted swing swayed gently in the breeze, reminding Thomas of creepy ghost towns he could faintly recall having seen in movies.
He was glad they weren't staying there overnight.
Thomas looked around in search of the train station Brenda had said they were headed to, but it must have been hidden somewhere behind the wreckage because it was nowhere in sight.
He was surprised when Brenda lead the way into a fairly small (though mostly whole) building made of dark stone. The structure was way too small to fit even one train, and there were no train-tracks in sight.
It made more sense once he passed the steel doors. There was only one room, decorated with a few benches and tables, along with a big, black screen fixed on the wall. But in the middle of the room, there were two sets of escalators (which were obviously not moving), leading down to… Thomas stepped closer to get a better look. A subway train? Well, it did make a lot of sense, come to think of it. Underground travel was more discrete, for one. And seeing as the solar flares had wreaked havoc on many overground structures, underground train tracks were more likely to be whole. There was, of course, some possibility that the tunnel had caved in, and there was the whole issue of getting the train to actually move, but Thomas assumed the trip had been made before and could be made again.
A door was opened and they all filed onto the train. Thomas had a feeling of deja vu as he looked around. He supposed he had taken the subway sometime before the memory wipe.
The interior of the train looked normal. Not just in the sense that it looked like your typical train (with plastic benches, and metal poles to hold on to); it looked so… unaffected. It wasn't a lab or an underground lair. It was whole and relatively clean, unlike most of their surroundings. It bore no marks of the solar flares or the Flare. It was nice.
The group formed a loose semicircle around Brenda, awaiting further instructions.
Brenda cleared her throat, looking a bit uncomfortable.
Right, so we're taking this train to our second base, which is located close to the WICKED-facility. This train, while not as fast as it used to be, could take us there in a matter of minutes if moving at full speed. However, WICKED has sensors that can detect large objects approaching at a rapid pace. It should take around twenty hours to get there if we move at an undetectable pace."
"What about our supplies?" Thomas asked.
"We have your things, along with some other supplies, stored in here," Brenda said, "now I suggest you make yourselves at home."
"You mean we're allowed to roam the train freely?" Teresa asked. Brenda nodded.
"I'll be in the next compartment if you need me," she said. True to her word, she walked past them and disappeared behind a door on the left.
The others from The Right Arm made no moves to leave the compartment they were in. The three Gladers left for the room on their right, leaving Harriet and Sonya behind after reassurances from Harriet that she didn't mind them leaving.
The next compartment was identical to the last, with a door leading farther right.
Teresa plopped down on a bench with a satisfied sigh.
"Well, this bench isn't exactly comfortable, but my god is it nice to finally sit down," she said.
Thomas sat down next to her. He agreed with Teresa, the bench was cold and hard, but after the long walk, he was happy with any kind of seat.
"Where are you going, Newt?" He heard Teresa ask. He looked at Newt and saw that he was walking towards the door leading farther away from where they'd entered. Newt paused and looked over at them. Thomas noticed that he looked a bit sad, though he had no idea why.
"I figured the two of ya would want some time alone," he said.
"Not really," Teresa said with a slight frown, "I think it'd be more fun if you were here too. The more the merrier, you know?"
Newt shrugged. "I have a bit of a headache, I'd prefer to be alone for a while."
With that, he left the compartment. Thomas wanted to follow his friend, but he'd said he wanted to be alone, so he remained in his seat, listening to the sound of footsteps growing fainter and fainter until they disappeared.
After a few minutes, the train started moving. Thomas could hear the hum of machinery and the sound of the train moving across the tracks. After the train had started moving in a regular pace, the sounds were the only thing indicating they were moving at all. They were moving slowly, and the path must've been very smooth because it felt like they were standing still.
"So, twenty hours, huh," Thomas said, breaking the awkward silence.
"Guess so," Teresa said.
"What do we do now?" Thomas asked
"Maybe talk about something?" Teresa suggested.
"Like what?"
"Like… the future, do you ever think about it?"
Thomas pondered before answering.
"Sometimes, though it's kind of hard to imagine there being a time after this whole mess."
"I get what you mean. Right now we're all focused on getting the cure, but what do we do after that? Do we stay with WICKED?"
"Nah, I fully intend to get as far away from them as possible once I have what I want. I'm not sure where I'll go, but I'll find somewhere."
"You're gonna go alone?"
"No, I'll bring anyone who wants to come with me. Newt, Minho, maybe the other Gladers…" Thomas trailed off.
"Would you want me to come with you?" Teresa asked.
"Of course I would! You're one of my best friends," Thomas said, "I take it you want to come with me, then?"
This earned him a shrug. "I don't know. I mean, I don't like WICKED, but what I like even less is leaving innocent people to suffer when I know I could save them. I know I can help if only to distribute the cure to the infected."
"So you want to start working for WICKED?"
"If that's what I'll have to do, then yes," Teresa said, before adding, "stop looking at me like I'm crazy, will you? WICKED might not be good, but they're not pure evil. Most of them just want to help people, just like me, and I'm not evil, am I?"
Thomas sighed. "No, you're definitely not evil, and maybe not everyone at WICKED is either, but still, they went too far. We were innocent kids. They took us from our families, separated siblings, killed so many of our friends. How is that right?"
"It's wasn't right, but it was necessary. Even if we hadn't been taken, we still would have suffered. More of us would be dead by now, myself included. If the Flare isn't stopped, humanity is done for. At least now we have the hope of finding a cure, even if the cost is high. It's sacrificing a few to save many."
"Would you sacrifice your own life for it?" Thomas asked, looking at Teresa, who was looking resolute.
"Yes."
Thomas couldn't help but admire her unselfishness. He wished he could be as good as her, but he knew he wasn't. If he had to choose between saving himself and his friends or the world, he would probably choose the former.
"So you'd be okay with me working for WICKED?" Teresa asked.
"I trust you to do what you think is right," Thomas said with a small smile, "we may not have the same priorities, but that's just because you're not as selfish as I am. I just want to get the cure for Newt, you want to cure the whole world."
Teresa beamed. They both knew that she didn't need his approval (or anyone's, really), but she was happy to have it anyway.
"You really care about him, don't you?" She asked suddenly.
"What?"
"Newt," she clarified.
"Well, yeah. Of course I do, he's one of my best friends," Thomas said, surprised at the change in conversation.
"really?"
"Yeah, what's weird about that?"
"I just thought there was something more going on between the two of you," Teresa said casually.
Thomas stuttered incoherently. He knew perfectly well that he could be somewhat oblivious at times, but there was no mistaking it.
"You think I like Newt?"
Teresa didn't respond, giving Thomas more time to process. And then something dawned on him.
"You're not the only one who thinks that! Minho told me earlier not to hurt his feelings, then there was this guard who said something. She didn't mention any names, but now I'm pretty sure she was talking about Newt…" Thomas said, thinking out loud, "who else thinks that? Does he think that?"
"Calm down, Tom," Teresa said, trying to stifle a grin, "the only thing you should be asking right now is whether you actually like him."
"I-I don't know," Thomas said, trying to force his raging mind to slow down.
He liked Newt, but did he like him, like he had Teresa and Brenda? The thought hadn't really struck him before, which didn't work in the favor of that idea. But the more he thought about it, the less impossible it seemed.
Feelings were confusing, difficult to understand, even more difficult to sort into categories. He recognized his previous feelings for Teresa and Brenda as romantic, but what he'd felt for Teresa wasn't the exact same as what he'd felt for Brenda, even though he'd liked both of them romantically.
His current feelings for Newt were different from his feelings for anyone else. When putting some thought into it, Thomas could see that the feelings were something more than just platonic, but did that make them romantic?
He comprised a mental list of what he liked about Newt:
He liked how he always called him Tommy (and the nickname sounded wrong when spoken by anyone else). His mere presence reassured him, and when he smiled at him he felt as if everything was going to be okay. He was smart and witty, and he always knew what to say to make Thomas feel better.
"Teresa?" Thomas said eventually.
"Yeah?"
"Why do you think I like Newt?"
Teresa tilted her head as she pondered the question. "It's the way you look at him, and the way your voice softens when you speak to or about him."
Thomas hadn't been aware that he did any of those things. He wondered what else he hadn't noticed.
"Have you made up your mind yet?" Teresa asked after what she apparently considered long enough.
"I'm not sure. I need more time. But hypothetically, let's say I do like him. does he like me back?"
"Pretty sure," Teresa said, "he's always had a soft spot for you. And he gave you a cutesy nickname."
"'Tommy' isn't cutesy, it's just a normal nickname!"
"That he uses all the time," Teresa said in an undertone.
"You have a nickname for me, and you don't like me."
"anymore."
Thomas sighed.
"I was just joking, Tom. A nickname doesn't prove anything. If you really want to know you should just ask him."
"I can't do that. Not now, at least. I need to be certain."
"Yeah, you should probably wait until you've made up your mind. Now I think you should go hang out with him, It might make deciding easier."
"He said he had a headache and wanted to be alone," Thomas reminded her.
"Oh, right. Maybe wait another hour or so, then you can go check on him."
"That's what I'll do, then," Thomas decided.
He almost did as Teresa had suggested, though he waited closer to a half hour.
After a few minutes of companionable silence, one of the men from The Right Arm entered the compartment. He handed them three blankets and a paper bag containing three sandwiches. One of each for the three Gladers.
Thomas and Teresa ate their share of the food, and then Thomas got up to go find Newt.
"Are you okay with sitting here alone?" Thomas asked, pausing in front of the door.
"Actually I'm going to go see Brenda. She seems like a decent enough person, and having her on our side could prove useful."
"Right. That's a good idea," Thomas said, feeling very stupid. He was the one who had made plans to sway Brenda to their side so she could help them, but he had barely thought about her after that. He was glad Teresa'd had the same idea, though he decided he would also go talk to Brenda, some other time.
When he entered the next compartment he expected to find Newt there, but the room was empty. He continued to the next, to the same discovery. After passing two more empty compartments, he entered the last one, judging by the lack of a door at the far end. The light had been turned off, leaving the room in a green-tinted semi-darkness, due to a glowing green emergency exit sign.
There was a large, unmoving shape on the floor.
"Newt!" Thomas cried in alarm, dropping what he was holding and rushing towards him.
When he got closer he saw that he lay curled up, with his hands buried in his hair as if he'd been clutching his head.
Thomas knelt down beside him and shook his arm urgently, while simultaneously trying to feel for a pulse.
To his immense relief, Newt stirred. A hand landed on Thomas', trying feebly to push it away. Thomas stopped shaking his friend immediately.
"Newt," Thomas said sharply when it looked like he was going to go on sleeping.
Newt opened his eyes slowly.
"Tommy? What…?" he said sleepily, sitting up.
"What happened? Are you okay?" Thomas asked.
"I dunno, my head hurt and then… I don't know."
"You blacked out?"
"Guess I did."
"How do you feel now?"
"Better than before."
"So I can turn the lights back on, then?" Thomas pointed at the light switch.
"Sure."
When Thomas turned the lights back on, Newt made a grimace and squeezed his eyes shut, probably because he'd been in the dark for so long. Then Thomas looked away from his face and saw something he hadn't seen before.
"You have blood on your hands!" He exclaimed, making his way back to his friend hurriedly.
Newt lifted his hands in front of his face, studying his fingers.
Thomas snatched one of his hands to get a better look. The nails were caked with dried blood. The fingertips were covered with the stuff, and there were reddish brown stains covering most of his fingers and palm.
He didn't have to look far for the source. There was blood in Newt's hair.
"Were you clawing at your head?" Thomas asked as he parted the hair to inspect the wounds.
"I might have been, I don't know."
"Well, it looks like the bleeding has stopped, at least. I saw a bathroom right outside this compartment, we should go there and clean the wounds," Thomas said.
Newt got up from his sitting position, but he was shaky and nearly lost his balance.
"Change of plans. You stay here, and I'll be back soon," Thomas said, helping Newt towards one of the benches.
Newt sat down without complaint and Thomas walked to the bathroom between their compartment and the one next to it. He came back a minute later with a handful of damp paper towels.
He started wiping away the blood until all that remained were the angry red lines.
"I don't think I have enough time," Newt said calmly.
Thomas stilled for a moment, before resuming the cleaning.
"What makes you say that?" Thomas asked.
"A few days ago I felt mostly normal, but now I feel close to losing it completely. It shouldn't be happening this fast."
"Maybe it's a trick," Thomas suggested, "WICKED trying to mess with you again, making you think it's worse than it actually is." It sounded like a lame excuse. While WICKED was likely messing with them in some manner, Thomas doubted that was all there was to it.
"If anything, they're probably tryin' to speed up the process" Newt grumbled.
Thomas didn't have anything good to say to that. It actually sounded plausible, though he didn't want to admit it, and he couldn't come up with a good counterargument.
"Tommy, I don't want to worry you, but I need to warn you. I'm dangerous to be around. I could lose control. I could hurt you. I could kill you. If that happens, you have to defend yourself. You can't hesitate, because I won't"
"Newt, I'm not going to kill you."
"I don't want you to have to do that, but if it comes to it, you have to save yourself. You don't have to kill me, you could just try to knock me out or something, but you can't hesitate to act."
"Fine," Thomas said, though the thought of hurting Newt in any way seemed unthinkable.
Newt nodded in approval as he wiped the blood off his hands with a paper towel.
"Just keep in mind that you promised not to give up," Thomas said.
"I'm not saying that I've given up. I just think it's better to be ready if something goes wrong."
"What we should be focusing on right now is making sure it doesn't come to that," Thomas said, "don't overthink stuff. Try to rest as much as possible. We know that mental activity speeds up the process."
"I'm trying," Newt said, "but it's so bloody difficult. I hate being the weak link. I hate standing back and doing nothin'"
"I know, but you're not weak, you're fighting the Flare, even though you do it by not doing anything. I have a plan for what to do, you don't have to worry about it. It'll be over soon."
"I sure hope so," Newt said.