The fourth and fifth nights were filled with new adventures—more labs, the cafeterias, a giant sports facility that Thomas had never even heard about. They found a hospital room where complicated masklike devices hung over each bed, tubes and wires branching out like the legs of a monstrous spider, studded with all kinds of monitoring equipment. Thomas desperately wanted to stay longer and figure out what the things were for, but Alby got them out of there quick. It was the first time Thomas had really seen him flustered, beads of sweat covering his forehead. Something had struck a nerve.
It was fun. Exciting. Terrifying. Invigorating. In all the years since WICKED had taken Thomas, he’d never felt so alive. He could feel the bonds of trust growing between them, although he still had no idea where that trust was leading. It was as if the original purpose of their summons had been lost in a burgeoning friendship.
Alby, Minho, Newt, Teresa.
Thomas had friends.
224.10.20 | 12:15 a.m.
Newt had been promising them that he was saving something special, and he did that annoying zipped-lip sign every time Thomas or Teresa asked him what—pinched fingers swept across his tightly closed mouth. The little light in his eyes showed he enjoyed every second of their torture.
Regardless of where they were headed on any given night, they always assembled in the basement maintenance room. The dusty old room had become something of a sanctuary for their group. After their third escapade, Newt stopped coming to escort Thomas and Teresa there—they knew their own way—and the exhilaration of sneaking through the dark halls of WICKED only became more enjoyable every time Thomas did it.
He lightly tapped on Teresa’s door and she opened it immediately. She poked her head out cautiously and looked up and down the hallway to make sure the coast was clear.
“Okay,” she said the fourth night, as she joined him and closed her door. She couldn’t hide the smile blooming on her face. “What do you think it is tonight?” They started making their way.
Thomas did Newt’s zipped-lip gesture, and that got him a sharp poke in the ribs.
“Ow,” he said dryly, and they picked up the pace.
—
Minho and Alby were wrestling when they walked into the maintenance room. For a second Thomas thought it was a genuine fight, but then Alby let out a whooping laugh when he pulled a maneuver that flipped Minho onto his back with a grunt.
“Not this time, sucker!” Alby yelled. He pressed his forearm into Minho’s chest and Newt slapped the floor three times.
Alby jumped up, arms raised in a victory dance.
Minho scrambled to his feet as well, dusting himself off. He let loose a few words Thomas used to hear his dad say, then added a very insincere “Good job.” Alby seemed to take it all as a compliment. It meant he’d won.
“All right, then,” Newt said, stretching his arms over his head and letting out a yawn. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”
“What’s the big surprise tonight?” Thomas asked. “Where’re we going?”
Newt looked up at the ceiling. “Well, we’ve pretty much been from one end of this place to the other.”
It was hard for Thomas not to look over at Teresa. The truth was, Newt and his friends had no idea what was hidden right under their feet. Trust or no trust, though, there was no way Thomas and Teresa could share the information about the maze cavern. He was just shocked that with all their exploring, the others hadn’t already discovered it on their own. And there were supposed to be two mazes. How had Newt and his friends not stumbled upon either one of them?
“Tommy?”
Thomas realized Newt was staring straight at him, eyebrows raised.
“Sorry,” he said, embarrassed. “Wandered off there for a second. What’d you say?”
Newt shook his head in admonishment. “Try to keep up, Tommy. Are you ready to see the great outdoors?”
—
They climbed up a ladder hidden behind a cinder-block wall, its original purpose mysterious to Thomas. The building had been built way before any organization named WICKED came into being, and the ladder had a sinister feel to it, as if it had been put there without the knowledge of the original planners or owners. Put there to accomplish devious deeds.
Thomas choked on dust as they climbed rung by rung, up and up and up. Somehow he’d gotten stuck going last, so he had four people above him kicking loose dirt and gravel and anything else that had collected over the years. A couple of nails even dropped down, one of them almost piercing his right eyeball.
“Could you guys be a little more careful up there?” he whisper-shouted at the group more than once. The only response was a giggle, and he was pretty sure Minho was the guilty one.
Finally, after climbing what had to be ten floors, they reached a steel landing that was barely big enough to hold the five of them. A heavy metal door, curved and rusted, sat like an ugly tooth in the cement wall to their left. The only thing on the door that didn’t look a hundred years old was a handle, rubbed shiny silver from usage.
“How many times have you guys done this?” Teresa asked.
“A dozen?” Alby replied. “Maybe fifteen? I don’t know. You have no idea how nice it is to get some fresh air, though. You’re about to see for yourself. Oh, man, and the sound of the ocean in the distance. Can’t beat it.”
“I thought the outside world was a wasteland,” Thomas said, butterflies swarming more than ever in his gut. “Radiation and heat and all that? Little things called sun flares?”
“Not to mention Cranks,” Teresa added. “How do you know there aren’t Cranks out there?”