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He had a random, horrible thought: did Teresa know about this?

It surprised him how deeply the idea hurt.

“Thomas?” Janson asked, breaking Thomas’s train of thought. “I know this must come as quite a shock to you. I need you to understand that this is not a test. This is not a Variable and I’m not lying to you. We think we can complete the blueprint for the cure by analyzing your brain tissue and how, combined with the patterns we’ve collected, its physical makeup allows it to resist the Flare virus’s power. The Trials were all created so we wouldn’t have to just cut everyone open. Our whole aim was to save lives, not waste them.”

“We’ve been collecting and analyzing the patterns for years, and you’ve been the strongest by far in your reactions to the Variables,” Dr. Wright continued. “We’ve known for a long time-and it was the highest priority to keep this from the subjects-that in the end we’d have to choose the best candidate for this last procedure.”

Dr. Christensen went on to outline the process while Thomas listened in numb silence. “You have to be alive but not awake. We’ll sedate you and numb the area of the incision, but there aren’t any nerves in the brain so it’s a relatively painless process. Unfortunately, you won’t recover from our neural explorations-the procedure is fatal. But the results will be invaluable.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Thomas asked. All he could see was Newt’s final moments. What if Thomas could prevent that horrible death for countless others?

The Psych’s eyes flickered with discomfort. “Then we’ll keep… working at it. But we have every confidence-”

Thomas cut her off, unable to help himself. “But you don’t, do you? You’ve been paying people to steal more immune… subjects ”-he said the word with vicious spite-“so you can start all over again.”

No one answered at first. Then Janson said, “We will do whatever it takes to find a cure. With as little loss of life as possible. Nothing else needs to be said on the matter.”

“Why are we even talking?” Thomas asked. “Why not just grab me and tie me down, rip my brain out?”

Dr. Christensen answered. “Because you’re our Final Candidate. You were part of the bridge between our founders and the current staff. We’re trying to show you the respect you deserve. It’s our hope that you’ll make the choice yourself.”

“Thomas, do you need a minute?” Dr. Wright asked. “I know this is difficult, and I assure you we don’t take it lightly. What we’re asking for is a huge sacrifice. Will you donate your brain to science? Will you allow us to put the final pieces of the puzzle together? Take another step toward a cure for the good of the human race?”

Thomas didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t believe the turn of events. After everything, could it be true that they only needed one more death?

The Right Arm was coming. Newt’s image seared across his mind.

“I need to be alone,” he finally got out. “Please.” For the first time, a part of him actually wanted to give in, let them do this. Even if there was only a small chance that it would work.

“You’ll be doing the right thing,” Dr. Christensen said. “And don’t worry. You’re not going to feel an ounce of pain.”

Thomas didn’t want to hear another word. “I just need some time alone before all this begins.”

“Fair enough,” Janson said, standing up. “We’ll accompany you to the medical facilities and get you in a private room for a while. Though we need to get things started soon.”

Thomas leaned forward and put his head in his hands, staring at the floor. The plan he’d concocted with the Right Arm suddenly seemed foolish beyond measure. Even if he could escape this group-even if he wanted to now-how would he survive until his friends arrived?

“Thomas?” Dr. Wright asked, reaching out to put a hand on his back. “Are you okay? Do you have any more questions?”

Thomas sat up, brushed her hand away. “Just… let’s go where you said.”

The air suddenly seemed to go out of Janson’s office and Thomas’s chest tightened. He stood and walked to the door, opened it and stepped out into the hallway. It was all too much.

CHAPTER 60

Thomas followed the doctors, but his mind was racing. He didn’t know what to do. There was no way to communicate with the Right Arm, and he’d lost his ability to speak inside Teresa’s-or Aris’s-mind.

They turned a couple of corners, and the zigzagging made Thomas think of the Maze. He almost wished he were back there-things were so much simpler then.

“There’s a room right up here on the left,” Janson explained. “I already put a typing pad in there if you’d like to leave any messages for your friends. I’ll figure out a way to deliver them.”

“I’ll make sure you get something to eat, also,” Dr. Wright called from behind.

Their politeness annoyed Thomas. He remembered stories of killers being put to death in the old days. They always got a last meal, too. As fancy as they wanted it.

“I want steak,” he said, stopping to look at her. “And shrimp. And lobster. And pancakes. And a candy bar.”

“I’m sorry-you’ll have to settle for a couple of sandwiches.”

Thomas sighed. “Figures.”

Thomas sat in a soft chair, staring at the typing pad on the small table in front of him. He had no intention of writing a note to anyone, but he didn’t know what else to do. The situation had proven to be way more complicated than he could’ve imagined. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but the notion that they’d dissect him alive had never crossed his mind. He’d figured whatever they did, he could just play along until the Right Arm showed up.

But there wouldn’t be any coming back from playing along now.

He finally typed goodbye messages to Minho and Brenda just in case he ended up dead; then he rested his head in his arms until the food arrived. He ate slowly, then rested again. He could only hope his friends showed up in time. Either way, he certainly wouldn’t leave this room until he absolutely had to.

He dozed as he waited, the minutes stretching on.

A knock at the door startled him awake.

“Thomas?” came the muffled voice of Janson. “We really need to get things started.”

The words lit a fire of panic in Thomas. “I’m… not ready yet.” He knew he sounded ridiculous.

After a long pause, Janson said, “I’m afraid we don’t have much of a choice.”

“But…,” Thomas began, but before he could pull his thoughts together, the door opened and Janson stepped inside.

“Thomas-waiting will only make it worse. We need to go.”

Thomas didn’t know what to do. He was surprised that they’d been so calm with him so far. He realized he’d pushed it to the limit and he’d run out of time. He took a deep breath.

“Let’s get it over with.”

The Rat Man smiled. “Follow me.”

Janson led Thomas to a prep room with a wheeled bed surrounded by all kinds of monitors and several nurses. Dr. Christensen was there, dressed from head to toe in scrubs, a surgical mask already in place on his face. Thomas could only see his eyes, but he looked eager to get started.

“So that’s it?” Thomas asked. A surge of panic raced through his gut, and it felt as if something were trying to chew through his chest. “Time to cut me open?”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor answered. “But we need to begin.”

The Rat Man was just about to speak again when a blaring alarm erupted throughout the building.

Thomas’s heart lurched and relief flooded his system. It had to be the Right Arm.

The door swung open and Thomas turned just in time to see a frantic-looking woman announce, “A Berg arrived with a delivery, but it was a trick to get people inside-they’re trying to take over the main building this very second.”