Chapter 2

Newt had just been working peacefully alongside Zart when they'd heard the screams. They were like nothing he had ever heard before in all his three years in the Glade. They weren't the screams of Grievers or those who'd been stung by one. They weren't the playful or surprised ones of someone jumping out on someone from behind a door and giving them a fright. They weren't the screams of someone coming up in the box, yelling for help. They didn't even remind him of his screams of pain and agony and despair after he had tried jumping from one of the walls, failing to kill himself, but breaking his leg. A permanent reminder that he would carry for the rest of his life.

No, they weren't like any of those.

The screams had been filled with pure terror, a desperate person who truly believed they were about to be killed. Well, that was actually true.

Newt had turned to see Thomas running full speed from the giant forest with Ben right on his heels. It may have just been Newt's imagination, but he was certain he'd seen Thomas limping ever-so-slightly. He'd been screaming and waving his arms to get everyone's attention (which he most certainly had gotten).

After Ben had been dragged off - kicking and screaming (literally) - to the Pits, the Gladers finally turned their attention onto the newest Greenie.

He wasn't in such a good shape. Newt felt a momentary sense of dread and fear wash over him before he saw that Thomas was still breathing, though he wasn't conscious.

"Get the Med-jacks!" he yelled, "NOW!"

Someone took off running to fetch either Clint or Jeff. The other would stay behind to treat Ben. Not that there was too much they could do: the Grief Serum that the Creators often sent up in the Box hadn't come for quite some time.

Newt held a finger to the side of Thomas' neck, measuring the pulse. It was slow and irregular. Not a good sign, he thought. Not a good sign at all.

A small part of his mind wandered to Ben. What on Earth had provoked him into such an attack? He'd been stung, yes, but that didn't excuse anything. The Changing brought back small bits of memories and that tended to change a person's attitude, but it didn't mean they were never aware of what they were doing! Ben had consciously put thought and effort into trying to kill Thomas! Just Thomas! What memory was so bad that it would make Ben - happy, joking, kind Ben - feel the need to kill somebody? It didn't bode well with Newt. Something was going on. But it didn't matter; whatever Thomas had done, that was in a different life. He was in the same boat as all of them, now. Maybe he'd had to do whatever it was he'd done to Ben, maybe he'd had no choice. They'd never know, either way, so it didn't matter.

What did matter was the unconscious, bloodied form of the Greenie before him.

Clint dropped to his knees beside him, took one look at Thomas, and cursed. And he didn't use any of the made-up Glader words, either.

"Someone go get Jeff!" he yelled to the still-mingling boys surrounding them. An uneasy feeling settled in Newt's stomach. Clint didn't think he'd be able to look after Thomas on his own. None of them could remember any medical training that they may or may not have had before the Maze, but the Med-jacks were picked out for that job for a reason. If even Clint wasn't confident with this, it didn't give Newt reason to feel all too confident in Thomas' recovery.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Newt asked worriedly, once again falling into the roll of 'Glade Mother' as Minho had so graciously called him one time. The name had stuck and was often used around the Homestead whenever Newt was taking care of someone. More often than not, it was used in a teasing manner and not actually because he was mothering someone, though it never went past friendly banter into something more aggressive.

Clint nodded his head. "Go prep a room in the Homestead for us."

As Newt took off towards the large wooden structure, he could hear Clint yelling more orders, one of which was for someone to fetch a stretcher. They didn't have a real stretcher, per se. More of an old blanket wrapped around some twine tightly knotted together. It did the job just as well, though.

He was quick, but efficient while prepping the room that Thomas would be using while he recovered. Newt was no Med-jack, but just judging by the state he'd seen Thomas in, it wasn't going to be a speedy or painless recovery. He grimaced at the thought, but before he could get too lost in his own mind, Chuck came barging into the room. Newt attempted a weak smile for the younger boy, but it wasn't a lot.

"Did you see Thomas?" Chuck gasped, eyes wide with fear and face red from running. "I couldn't see very well, what happened? Was it Ben? It looked like Ben! He attacked Thomas! Why would he-"

"Chuck," Newt interrupted softly, trying not to sound annoyed. The boy was only worried about his friend, after all. But blabbering on like that wasn't going to help anything. "Chuck, you need to calm down 'fore you give yourself a bloody heart attack, yeah? If you want to help, go fetch a bucket of water and a clean cloth for us."

Chuck nodded and ran off to do as he was told and seconds later, Clint and Jeff entered with the inert form of Thomas on the stretcher balanced between the two of them. Newt helped them to carefully manoeuvre the boy onto the bed and get him situated into a relatively comfortable position.

Newt didn't really want to stay while the other boys were assessing Thomas' injuries, but Clint had said that they might need him to hold Thomas down while they worked.

His screams were horrific and the Glade's second-in-command wanted nothing more than to run straight out of the room with his hands over his ears and not come back until it stopped.

But he couldn't!

He was trapped, having to watch the whole thing, every last gory detail of it!

Chuck had appeared a minute or so after they began patching Thomas up with Alby right behind. Poor Chuck had gone several shades whiter than white and Alby had quickly ushered him out. Not long after that, Thomas had woken up and that had made things so much more difficult on everyone there. With the extent of his injuries, they'd all unanimously agreed that it would be unwise to try knock him out. As awful as it was, they were going to have to keep Thomas awake the whole time the Med-jacks worked!

After it was finally over, pain won out and Thomas felt his eyelids drooping from the exhaustion of it all. His body slumped to the side and he allowed sleep to take him - a brief escape from his sore body.

Newt had just been about to get up and leave when he felt the weight fall against his shoulder: Thomas had fallen asleep. He went to reposition his head against the pillow, but the younger Glader cried out in his sleep and threw his good arm out, grasping blindly through subconsciousness for Newt's arm.

"Don't leave!" he whimpered, "Don't leave me to these people! I can't cope! Help!"

His voice had progressively rose in pitch and volume and desperation until Thomas was almost shouting. Newt was taken aback; what on Earth was he dreaming about?!

Thomas continued to whine: "Please, no, help! Come back! They'll kill me!"

"No, they won't. You're safe now," Newt tried to comfort to no avail.

"Please!" Thomas started to cry in his sleep and Newt sat there frozen, unsure of what to do. Then Thomas said something really strange: "WICKED isn't good, Teresa! Why can't you see?"

Teresa?

Newt had the feeling that this wasn't just some pain-induced hallucination - it had obviously happened at some point. That must mean... No! It couldn't! None of them had any memories! And from Thomas' reaction yesterday to...well, everything, he obviously had no memories, either! But this dream he was having was clearly a small glimpse into his past. How was that even possible?

The murmurings had morphed into indecipherable babble and little grunts of pain, but Newt continued to think over what he had heard. Thomas had said the word "WICKED". That was the same word written over the beetle blades that ran all over the place. But why would the Creators make that word seem so important? Why give them all an image of evil in their heads whenever they thought of the people who had put them here? Because they are evil and wicked, that's why! the voice in his head told him. WICKED! What a fitting name.

"Hey." Newt looked up at the voice to see Alby stood in the doorway. "You know you can leave now, right?"

"He's been saying some weird stuff in his sleep, man. I think he's seeing some of his past!"

The look on Alby's face changed instantly.

"Memories?" he said incredulously. "How the Hell has he got some of his memories?!"

"Not what I meant," Newt shook his head. "I think he's only seeing the tiniest bit - he said WICKED isn't good and he said the name 'Teresa'. Not enough to mean anything, but just enough to know that he may remember more than we do!"

"WICKED? That's what's on them beetle blades. And Teresa? His mind didn't just make that up on the spot!"Alby looked seriously bothered by this and Newt had to admit that he felt the same.Ben had just attacked Thomas out of the blue and now Thomas was having weird nightmares. It was awful to even think, never mind say out loud, but he knew it had to be said. He could see Alby had come to the same conclusion as him at the same time. It didn't make it any less disturbing to say it, though.

"Thomas was somehow connected with the Creators!"

"Teresa," Chancellor Ava Paige started, her face grim. "I'm afraid we have a bit of bad news. As you saw in the Observation Room, Thomas was brutally attacked by Benjamin. It means we're going to have to delay sending you up for a little while - we fear it would be too much for the Subjects to handle at the moment."

Teresa chose her words carefully. "Isn't that the point? To test their brains? Draw responses and brainwaves from the Killzone that we wouldn't have been able to before?"

The Chancellor nodded as if she'd expected this question.

"We are getting unbelievable patterns already from this attack - patterns we couldn't have imagined getting before!" She sounded almost excited! "If we sent you up now, it would just confuse matters. We'll give it a couple of days and see how things go.

"In the meantime, we have a chance to draw out certain patterns in the brain that will totally change the game!"

For a brief moment, Teresa had the thought that this woman might have the Flare. She was getting so excited over something that had almost killed Thomas. But then she remembered how important this all was to saving the world. They needed these emotional responses in the brain. It was helping them get closer all the time to a cure.

Chancellor Paige continued: "Remember your telepathy with Thomas? We think it might be time to put that to use."

Thomas was only just starting to return from his dreams when he heard the voice. His dreams had finally ended and his mind had just started to bring consciousness back to him, his eyes starting to flutter.

Then it suddenly felt as if invisible hands had gripped onto his mind and pulled him back down into darkness. He was awake now, but suspended in a black void, floating in nothingness, yet weighed down by this unseen intruder.

Thomas! a girl's voice called out in his mind, sounding upset and frightened. Somehow, he could feel her emotions; she didn't want to do this to him, she was being forced!

Thomas! she called again. Listen, I don't have much time! They're coming for you - they want you! WICKED is good, but sometimes we have to do harsh things to help others! Trust me, please.

Her voice left as suddenly as it had came and the feeling of her presence in his head disappeared without a trace.

Wait! he tried to call her back, but she was gone.

"Well done, Teresa!" Paige said in a far-too-cheery voice for the situation. "Thomas is our top Candidate at the moment and playing on those kind of emotions will seriously help us in the long run!"

Teresa just nodded. She understood what had to be done, understood why it had to be done, knew there was no other option. It didn't mean she had to like what was about to happen, though. Poor Thomas is going to be so scared! she thought sadly. But it had to be done - there was no other way!

"We're sending someone in now to get him," the Chancellor said and walked off. The conversation was finished, they both had something they needed to do. They would all have a part in the next stage of the plan tomorrow.