The Fever Code (7 page)

He felt better when she suddenly kissed him on the cheek, then sprinted down the hall, passing Dr. Leavitt.

Thomas definitely liked having a friend. But as he watched her run, that feeling of panic came back to him. What had happened to him today? From the splitting headache to the overwhelming sense of déjà vu—it made him feel off-balance, scared to stand up for fear of tipping over. Like he wasn't in tune with the spinning of the earth.

He tried hard not to think of the worst possible answer.

He tried not to think of the Flare.

224.10.14
|
11:37 a.m.

A week later, right after a particularly tough puzzle session with Ms. Denton, Thomas found himself once again in the small room, sitting across the desk from Teresa. Thankfully, none of the strangeness of their last meeting came back to haunt him.

It had been the longest week of his life, wondering every minute of every day if he'd be able to see his new friend. The only answer he got from Dr. Paige or his teachers or anyone else was that yes, they'd meet again soon. Letting a whole week go by seemed the most effective torture method he'd ever heard of. And despite considering it many times, he'd never gotten up the courage to ask about the powerful episode of déjà vu. He worried people might think something was wrong with him.

“Hey, good to see you again,” Teresa said to start things off. Leavitt had just left the room, refusing to answer her question as to how long they'd have together.

“Yeah, definitely,” Thomas agreed, pulling himself together. He felt too silly asking about the strange feelings he'd had last time, so he took another direction. “Hey, I've been dying to ask you about those kids you said…died. Is that really true? And at times Dr. Paige somehow makes it sound like they're doing us a favor by keeping us alone. I feel like I've got a million other things I want to talk about, too.”

“Whoa, not all at once,” Teresa said with a grin. Then she looked up at the corners of the ceiling—each of the four—with a worried glance. “I wonder if we should be a little careful about what we say. I mean, they're obviously watching us. Or at least listening.”

“Probably both,” Thomas said in a loud, mocking voice. “Hellooooooo! Hello, old people!” He waved all around as if he were in a parade, unsure where this sudden elation was coming from.

Teresa exploded with laughter, making him do the same. It went on for a good minute or two, each triggering the other to laugh again just when they were about to stop. He was smart enough to know, however, that he was trying to avoid thinking about the deaths in question.

“Let's not worry about it too much,” Teresa said when the chortling had stopped. “This is our time, and we can talk about whatever we want. Let them get their kicks.”

“Amen.” Thomas slapped the top of the desk.

Teresa jumped in surprise, then laughed again. “The stuff I heard about kids dying—I don't know. Probably just a rumor. I hope so. I guess I didn't hear it that clearly. They could've been talking about something that happened before we came. I was just trying to get a reaction from Leavitt.”

Thomas hoped so badly that was the case.

“So, anything new or exciting in your life?” Teresa asked.

“Can't say there is,” Thomas replied. “Let's see, I eat. I go to school. Lots of school. Lots of medical tests. Oh, and I sleep, too. That about sums it up.”

“Sounds a lot like my life!”

“Really? Shocker.”

Smiles, a pause. Then Teresa leaned forward and put her elbows on the desk.

“I don't know about the other kids, or any secrets or anything like that, but listen. Our heads should be totally healed, right?”

The question took him by surprise. “Um, yeah, you'd think so.” He touched the scar hidden by the hair above his left ear. “Seems like it, at least. I'm sure our brilliant brains are just fine.”

“You mean what WICKED calls the killzone?”

Thomas nodded. He'd heard the word here and there but didn't know much except the basics. “Yeah. Seems like something they stole from a vid game. But Dr. Paige says that's where the Flare does all its damage.”

“Isn't it so weird that we're immune? I mean, that should be the coolest thing in the world—that we don't have to worry about turning into crazy people.”

“Right.”

“But all it's done for us is landed us in this stupid place. Their name should be BORING, not WICKED. I'm seriously going insane from being locked in rooms all day.”

Thomas looked at the door, pondering for a second. “Is it that bad outside? Is that why we're not allowed to go out there?”

“It must be bad. You always hear that the radiation is weakening but still pretty high in some places. All I remember is blinding white light outside the Berg that brought me here. I've been through a Flat Trans and ridden on a Berg—all before the age of five. Can you believe that?”

Thomas could just remember the big flying machine in which he'd also ridden. As sad as he'd been, he'd thought the thing was cool. Bergs were supposed to be for people who were crazy rich. But that was nothing compared to a Flat Trans. He'd never been through one of those, but if WICKED had them, they must have a lot of money.

“When did you go through a Flat Trans?” he asked.

Her face shifted from awe to sadness. “I barely remember it. I was born in the east somewhere. I lost my parents and got rescued….” She looked down and went silent. Maybe a topic for another time.

“Hey,” he said to change the subject, “about that ache in our heads. I have it, too, sometimes.”

Teresa's eyes flicked up to the corners of the ceiling again. Nothing visible hung up there, but they both knew that cameras could be hidden anywhere. And microphones. WICKED could fit hundreds of microphones in a place that size. Not to mention whatever had been inserted into their brains—who knew what those things could monitor.

Teresa stood, picked up her chair, and brought it around to the other side of the desk. She placed it right next to Thomas, as close as possible. She sat down and leaned toward him, pressing their shoulders together.

She whispered in his ear, so lightly that he barely heard the words. Her breath against his skin sent tingles in all directions.

“Let's talk this way until they stop us,” she said.

Thomas nodded, then spoke into her ear. “Sure.” He liked sitting close to her.

“That ache in my head,” she said, so quietly. “It's actually more like an itch. Like something's in there that needs to be scratched. It just about drives me crazy sometimes. I want to dig in there with something until I can scratch the itch, you know?”

Thomas didn't know. That sounded even crazier than his déjà vu.

“I guess mine is kinda like that,” he said without much conviction.

She laughed, leaning away for a second. “Perfect response,” she said aloud. Then she leaned in again to whisper. “I know it's weird, but just hear me out. There's something in there that isn't being used. I heard the words ‘trigger switch' when I was coming out of the anesthesia. And it
does
feel like that to me. Like a trigger that needs to be pulled, or a switch that needs to be pressed. Make sense?”

Thomas slowly nodded. Dr. Paige had actually said something also, hadn't she? She'd said
special.
He vaguely remembered that word, but it could have been a dream. These implants were a complete mystery.

Teresa continued, her expression pinched. “I feel like there's something linked with my brain. Something extra there. I've been lying in bed, concentrating until my head hurts from
that.
”

“What're you concentrating on?” Thomas asked, bursting with curiosity now.

“Using my brain as a tool. Like, conjuring up a physical thing in my thoughts, trying to use it on the implant. You know, like a hook to pull that trigger. Does any of this make even the slightest bit of sense?”

“Of course not,” Thomas said.

She pulled away, folded her arms, huffed in frustration.

He touched her arm. “But that's why I'm interested.”

She raised her eyebrows.

He continued. “You seem totally sane to me”—she laughed—“and I'm pretty sure Dr. Paige may have tried to say something about this to me. It's really got me thinking. Consider me curious.”

She nodded, kept nodding, her eyes filled with relief. She sat up and came in again for whispers.

“I'm going to keep working on it. Thanks for not thinking I've got the Flare after all. But I mean, come on. These people have some crazy technology. They have Flat Transes and Bergs….” She paused and shook her head slightly. “My point is these things they put in our heads might be integrated somehow with our actual consciousness. Our actual thoughts. That's what I think.”

Thomas, a little overwhelmed with this fascinating barrage of things to think about, put his lips right next to her ear. “I'll try, too. It'll be fun to have something different to work on.”

She stood, a genuine smile lighting up her face. She carried her chair back to its original position on the other side of the desk and sat back down.

“I really wish they'd let us meet more often,” she said.

“Me too. I hope they're not mad about our whispering.”

“They're just a bunch of geezers.” She laughed. “You hear that, WICKED?” she shouted. “We're talking about you. Wake up from your naps and come stop us!”

Thomas snickered through the whole thing, but both of them froze when a knock sounded at the door.

“Uh-oh,” Thomas whispered.

The door cracked open and Dr. Leavitt stepped inside. But any fear of punishment disappeared as soon as Thomas saw the man's face—he didn't seem the slightest bit angry.

“Another session over,” he announced. “But before you go back to your normal schedule, we want to show something to the both of you. Something that's going to knock your socks off.”

Thomas, not knowing what to think, and more than a little suspicious, considering how their session had just went, stood up. So did Teresa, a worried look shadowing her face. Maybe they were heading straight to the chancellor's office for a reprimand.

But Dr. Leavitt seemed genuinely excited. He opened the door wider. “Okay, then! Prepare yourself for wonder.”

224.10.14
|
1:48 p.m.

Leavitt led Thomas and Teresa to the elevator and all three of them rode it to the basement level—somewhere Thomas had never been before—then escorted them down a long hallway that ended at another bank of elevators. It was an entirely different section of the complex. Thomas and Teresa didn't say a word along the way, but they exchanged plenty of questioning looks. Finally, when the doctor pushed the call button to go down again, Thomas couldn't hold back his questions anymore.

“What's this amazing thing you're going to show us?” he asked.

“Ah, now,” the man replied. “It's not my place to ruin the surprise for you. You could say that's above my pay grade.” He barked a laugh that echoed loudly. “Some very important people are going to show you the…project. I give my opinion on these matters, but I'm not involved in the actual…fulfillment.” He didn't seem very comfortable talking about it.

The chime of the elevator saved him from further explanation, and the doors opened.

Four people stood inside the car, and Thomas's breath caught in his throat. He recognized Chancellor Anderson and Dr. Paige. There were another man and woman, each of them dressed very professionally.

“They're all yours,” Leavitt said; then, without waiting for a response, he turned and retreated down the hallway they'd come from.

Dr. Paige held her arm out to keep the elevator doors open. “Come on in, Thomas. Teresa. We're really excited about what we're going to show you today.”

“Yes, we are,” Chancellor Anderson said. He shook Thomas's hand as he stepped inside the car, then Teresa's. “We've been waiting and waiting for the Psychs to conclude that you two were ready, and here we are.”

“What's going on?” Teresa asked. “Why all the mystery?”

The elevator doors had closed, and Dr. Paige pushed a button to get them moving. A soft hum filled the air. Thomas wondered how they could be going
down
instead of up—the other bank of elevators had said they'd exited at the basement. He felt a small trickle of fear.

Chancellor Anderson gave them his warmest smile. “It's nothing you should be worried about,” he said. “We think the best way to explain what we're planning is to show you in person. You'll see what I'm talking about soon.”

“But why us?” Teresa asked. “We know there are lots of other kids—we can
hear
them through the walls. Why are we separate? Are you going to show them what you're showing us?”

The woman Thomas had never seen before stepped forward. She was short, with dark hair and a pale complexion. “First, introductions, shall we? My name is Katie McVoy, and I'm an assistant vice president with special oversight of the production you're about to see. This”—she pointed at the other man, a serious-looking man with darker skin, gray hair, and stubble on his cheeks—“is Julio Ramirez, our current chief of security.”

As hands were shaken and smiles shared all around, Thomas wondered about the word she'd used,
current.
It seemed weird that she would describe the man's job that way. Almost as if he wouldn't be holding the position much longer.

Ms. McVoy continued. “Regarding your questions, several of you have done leaps and bounds better than anyone else in the schooling and testing we've conducted here. Now, we're as pragmatic as anyone, especially in today's world, and we see the value in your skills and smarts. Today is a reward of sorts. You'll be the first subjects to see this.”

“That's right,” Anderson said with a bright smile. “
Reward
is a good word for it. You two and a few others are off the charts and perfect for what we're going to need over the next two years to finish what we've begun. And we should be arriving…Ah, there we go.”

The car came to a stop, having plummeted to the Earth's core, for all Thomas could tell. The journey, combined with everything he'd just heard, had him feeling even more uneasy than when he'd stepped into the elevator. Who were these “others” they were talking about? Of all the new things that were apparently about to be opened to him, having other kids around excited him the most by far. The constant loneliness had begun to eat away at his heart. But it also sounded too good to be true. Could he believe it?

The doors had opened while he was lost in thought, and the others had all exited. Teresa stood across the threshold, gesturing for him to follow. She looked as if she was worried the whole thing might be cancelled if he didn't snap out of it and get moving. Thomas felt the same way. He stepped out of the car into a large room about the size of a gym, its exposed ductwork lit with blue lights. It was empty except for the hundreds of cords and tubes waiting to be connected, countless boxes, and construction materials. One corner held what looked like an office—it was set up with multiple monitors and workstations, all lighting the space with their electric glow.

“Our plan,” Chancellor Anderson said, “is for this to be the command center for what we're calling the Maze Trials, as advanced a facility as any research institution has ever had. This should be finished within a couple of months, and then the two mazes themselves completed within two or three years. Maybe four.”

He'd been looking around the room proudly, but when he turned back to face Thomas and Teresa he froze, surprised. Thomas imagined that was because he himself must look completely confused.

Teresa asked the question for both of them. “The maze trials?”

Chancellor Anderson opened his mouth to answer but seemed at a loss for words. Ms. McVoy came to his rescue with a polished grin.

“Well, our esteemed chancellor has gotten a bit ahead of himself, but that's okay. See that door over there? Behind that door is a set of stairs that will take us to a temporary observation platform. We want to show you something, then explain what it will be used for. Are you ready?”

Thomas was. More than ready, dying of curiosity. He nodded at the same time Teresa said, “Definitely.”

They walked as a group toward the door McVoy had indicated, the serious Ramirez taking the rear, looking around as if expecting trouble. They passed a long wall with nothing but huge power docks set far enough apart to accommodate something as big as a car.

“What're those for?” Thomas asked. They were halfway across the big room.

McVoy started to answer, but the chancellor cut her off. “Let's just get through one thing at a time,” he said kindly, and shot McVoy a look Thomas couldn't quite make out. “We have a few things in development that we're not quite ready to share.”

Thomas had too many butterflies in his stomach to give the comment much thought. He figured he'd have plenty of time later, lying in his bed, to contemplate the onslaught of information being dumped on him.

He followed Anderson through the exit and the small group climbed four sets of stairs. Then they all squeezed in together on the landing directly in front of a massively fortified metal door. McVoy tapped in a security code on a screen. There was a great hissing sound, and then, with a heavy, booming clunk, the door popped open. Anderson and McVoy pushed it open all the way and then stood aside, allowing Thomas and Teresa to go through first.

Thomas had been high on anticipation but couldn't imagine what to expect. And what he saw before him almost made his heart stop from the sheer shock of it. The open door had created a conduit for air escaping the vast, open space before him. He stood frozen, the breeze washing over him as he took it all in.

He was standing on a platform facing a cavern so massive his mind could barely conceive of its size. He could tell the space had been gouged from the earth—the ceiling was uncovered, roughly cut rock dotted with enough huge, blinding lights to illuminate the entire space. That was a feat impressive on its own. But even more impressive were the steel girders that ran around the room; Thomas could only imagine they'd been put in place to reinforce the expansive ceiling, and they glittered in the reflected light of the brilliant spotlights overhead.

And they were underground.

It seemed impossible, yet they were actually
underground.
The cavern had to be at least a few miles square and as tall as a skyscraper. Building materials—wood and steel and stone—were scattered in piles across the vast floor. Far in the distance—what looked to be a mile, maybe even two—a huge wall was under construction, its skeletal frame almost reaching the ceiling.

Thomas suddenly sucked in a breath on reflex, not realizing he'd been holding it. He just didn't understand what lay before him. It was a massive abscess under the ground, so huge it seemed to defy natural law. How could that roof
not
just cave in?

He looked over at Teresa, whose eyes were wide and glistening in awe.

“I'm sure you have many, many questions,” McVoy said. “And we can answer them, one at a time. Things are going to be different for both of you from now on. You're going to know a lot more, and you're going to be very, very busy.”

“Busy doing what?” Teresa asked.

Chancellor Anderson chose to answer that one.

“You're going to help us build this place.”