"See ya tomorrow," he says.
Which is true, and it hurts.
The dream faded, and Thomas fell into the blackest sleep of his life.
CHAPTER 54
Whispers in the dark.
That was what Thomas heard when he began returning to consciousness. Low but harsh, like sandpaper rubbing across his eardrums. He didn't understand any of it. It was so dark it took him a second to realize that his eyes were open.
Something cool and hard pressed against his face. The ground. He hadn't moved since the gas had knocked him out. Shockingly, his head didn't hurt anymore. In fact, nothing did. Instead, a feeling of refreshed euphoria swam through him, almost made him dizzy. Maybe he was just happy to be alive.
He got his hands under himself and pushed up into a sitting position. A look around did nothing―not even the faintest glimmer of light broke up the utter darkness. He wondered what had happened to the green glow of the door that Teresa had shut on him.
Teresa.
His elation drained away. Remembering what she'd done to him. But then ...
He wasn't dead. Unless the afterlife was just a crappy room of blackness.
He rested for a few minutes, letting his mind wake up and settle before he finally got to his feet and started feeling around. Three cool metal walls with evenly spaced upraised holes. One smooth wall that felt like plastic. He was definitely in that same little room.
He pounded on the door. "Hey! Anybody out there?"
His thoughts started spinning. The memory-dreams, several now―so much to process, so many questions. The things that had first come back to him with the Changing in the Maze were slowly starting to come into focus, solidify. He'd been part of WICKED's plans, part of all this. He and Teresa had been close―best friends, even. All of it had seemed right. Doing these things for the greater good.
Only, Thomas didn't feel so good about it now. All he felt was anger and shame. How could anything justify what they'd done? What WICKED―what they―were doing? Though he certainly didn't think of himself this way, he and the others were just kids. Kids! He didn't like himself very much anymore. He wasn't sure when he'd reached this turning point. But something had cracked within him.
And then there was Teresa. How could he ever have felt so much for her?
Something cracked, then hissed, interrupting his line of thinking.
The door started to open, slowly swinging outward. Teresa stood there in the pale light of early morning, her face streaked with tears. As soon as there was enough room, she threw her arms around him, pressing her face against his neck.
"I'm so sorry, Tom," she said; her tears were wet against his skin. "I'm so, so, so sorry. They said they'd kill you if we didn't do everything just like they told us. No matter how horrible. I'm sorry, Tom!"
Thomas couldn't answer, couldn't bring himself to hug back. Betrayal. The sign on Teresa's door, the conversation between the people in his dreams. Pieces were falling into place. For all he knew, she was just trying to trick him again. The betrayal meant he couldn't trust her anymore, and his heart told him he couldn't forgive her.
On some level, he realized that Teresa had kept her initial promise to him after all. She had done those awful things against her will. What she had said in the shack had been true. But he also knew that things could never, never be the same between them.
He finally pushed Teresa away. The sincerity in her blue eyes did little to diminish his lingering doubt. "Uh ... maybe you should tell me what happened."
"I told you to trust me," she answered. "I told you that bad, bad things would happen to you. But the bad stuff was all an act." She smiled then, and it was so pretty Thomas longed to find a way to forget what she'd done.
"Yeah, but you didn't seem to struggle too much, beating the klunk out of me with a spear and throwing me into a gas chamber." He couldn't hide the mistrust raging in his heart. He glanced at Aris, who looked sheepish, like he'd intruded on a private conversation.
"I'm sorry," the boy said.
"Why didn't you tell me we knew each other before?" Thomas responded. "What ..." He didn't know what to say.
"It was all an act, Tom," Teresa said. "You have to believe us. We were promised from the very beginning that you wouldn't die. That this chamber thing had its own purposes and then it'd be over. I'm so sorry."
Thomas looked back at the still-gaping door. "I think I need some time to process all this." Teresa wanted him to forgive her―for everything to be how it used to be immediately. And instinct told him to hide his bitter feelings, but it was hard.
"What happened in there, anyway?" Teresa asked.
Thomas returned his gaze to her. "How about you talk first, then me. I think I earned that much."
She tried to take his hand but he moved it, pretending he had an itch on his neck. When he saw the flash of hurt cross her face, he felt the slightest bit of vindication.
"Look," she said. "You're right. You deserve an explanation. I think it's okay to tell you everything now―not that we know too much of the why."
Aris cleared his throat, an obvious interjection. "But, um, we better do it while walking. Or running. We only have a few hours left. Today is the day."
Those words jarred Thomas completely out of his stupor. He looked down at his watch. Only five and a half hours remained if Aris was right that they'd reached the end of the two weeks―Thomas had kind of lost track himself, not knowing how long he'd been in the chamber. And none of this other stuff mattered at all if they didn't make it to the safe haven. Hopefully Minho and the others had already found it.
"Fine. Let's just forget this for now," he said, then changed the subject. "Is anything different out there? I mean, I saw it in the dark, but―"