(After Epilogue)
Teresa sat at a table in a cold, dark room in WICKED headquarters. It occurred to her, not for the first time, that it was always like that here—cold and dark—and she wondered why.
Sure, there were lights above the
table. But they barely penetrated the gloom that seemed a living thing within
the walls of this place that was her home. And somehow Alaska refused to be hot
like the rest of the world, the extreme cold overcoming any warmth the WICKED
people tried to pump through the building’s halls. Teresa shivered so hard that
she found it impossible to relax. Although the cold wasn’t the only reason she
was tense—not by a long shot.
She never would’ve guessed it
possible, but she missed the unbearable heat of the sun-ravaged world, missed the
glow of it all, the intense light that made things seem bearable. Anything beat
the dim monotony of WICKED.
She’d been there for two years now.
More than a quarter of her life. Long enough that the memories of her past were
fading, replaced by the day-to-day of her new world. Two long years and she had
yet to find a friend. Only grown-ups, long-faced and serious. One of them was
nice—the man named Randall—but she hardly ever saw him. He’d promised that
Teresa would have a friend soon. Very soon. And then many more after that.
In fact, that was why she was
sitting in this room. Waiting. Supposedly they’d found others like her.
There was a knock at the door; then
it opened. That was how things were at WICKED—everyone was polite. They made
Teresa feel like she mattered. But then the feeling vanished and the truth was
made clear once again: Teresa was nothing but a subject.
A woman entered. She was young and
pretty, though her hair was pulled back into a bun that looked downright
painful. Her face had a hardness—a tightness—to it, as if the skin were being
yanked along with her hair into whatever held it all in place behind her head.
She gave Teresa a quick nod and the hint of a smile, then got right to
business.
“Thank you for waiting,” the woman
said. “We have someone we’d like you to meet and we’re ready to take you to
him. I was waiting for Chancellor Michael’s final approval. Hence the delay.”
“I don’t mind waiting,” Teresa
replied. “But you didn’t even tell me your name.”
A flash of surprise crossed the
woman’s face. Grown-ups at WICKED often looked surprised when Teresa talked to
them. They still expected her to act like most children her age.
“And,” Teresa added. “I don’t get
why I haven’t been allowed to meet Mr. Michael yet. I’ve been here almost two
years. Don’t you think I should get to shake hands with him?”
The woman stammered but quickly
recovered. “First of all, my name is Ladena. But that’s not important. As for
the Chancellor, he . . . has no need to meet you. He has his job and you have
yours. Be happy that you live in such a safe place, with all the food you need.
That should be enough.”
Teresa just stared back, trying to
show that she wasn’t happy with Ladena’s answer. It took a few seconds, but the
woman realized what she’d done.
“I'm . . . sorry,” she said. “It’s
just . . . I’m not used to all this. I don’t know how best to . . .”
“It’s okay,” Teresa said loudly and
with confidence. “I didn’t expect anything different, I guess. I knew the
Chancellor didn’t want to see the kids he’s asked to give away their lives. No
big deal. But thanks for telling me your name.”
Once again the woman seemed shocked,
but only for a second. There was a spark of anger in her eyes as she looked at
Teresa. “I used to think we were making questionable decisions. But not
anymore. Not after I’ve seen what’s going on out there in the world. I really
think you should be thankful to be here, safe and sound. I think you should be
very, very thankful.”
“I never said I wasn’t.” Teresa
responded, looking straight at Ladena. “I am
thankful. And I don’t think it matters what I think or you think about WICKED.
There isn’t a choice, is there? Sometimes you have to act or die.”
Ladena was nodding slowly, a look of
confusion on her face. “You’re quite smart for your age, aren’t you? I honestly
don’t know what to make of it.”
“There’s nothing to make of it. I’m
just trying to talk to you like a normal person.”
“I don’t think you’re a normal
person.”
Teresa drew herself up proudly.
“Probably not.”
Ladena seemed to be studying Teresa
like a lab specimen. “There’s something special . . .” She shook her head as if
trying to wake up from a dream. “What am I doing? I need to take you to where
they’re keeping the boy. It’s time for you two to meet. They’re saying he’s the
most qualified one they’ve found yet.”
Teresa was sick of talking to this
woman anyway. She stood up and walked to the door, showing she was ready to go.
“How many have they found?” Teresa
asked.
“A couple dozen or so. We’ve kept
you all isolated so far. But the Chancellor has agreed that you and the boy are
ready to meet. That both of you are going to be given . . . certain
responsibilities.”
Teresa shrugged. She had started
pretending that things didn’t interest her much, when in fact they interested
her a great deal. She followed the woman into the hallway, which was as cold
and gloomy as the room they left.
“What’s his name?” Teresa asked.
Ladena answered in a weary voice as
she started walking down the corridor.
“They’ve called him Thomas.”
There weren’t many windows at
WICKED.
Teresa had guessed why. They didn’t
want their subjects to get too many glimpses of the land outside, which was
off-limits except on rare occasions. In addition, they lived in a world where
Cranks could attack at any moment. More windows would mean more opportunities
for them to break in and spread their illness. Or worse.
But Ladena happened to lead Teresa
past a narrow slit of an opening on the way to meet the new boy, and Teresa refused
to let the chance pass without taking advantage of it. Not bothering to ask,
she quickly ran over to the window.
“Hey!” Ladena called. “We don’t have
time for that!” But her command held no authority—the woman obviously felt
uncomfortable with the tasks she’d been given by WICKED.
Teresa pressed her nose to the cool
glass and stared at the wonders of the outside world as condensation from her
breath framed the bottom edge of her view. On the left side she could see the
gray concrete of the headquarters itself, stretching away until the walls
curved out of sight. But beyond that and to her right were bushes and a wide
yellowed lawn crisscrossed by walkways lined with light posts. A little farther
off was the forest—still vibrant and alive, wet with recent rains. Green and
thick and majestic, hiding whatever lived within.
It was so different from the dry,
burned-out woods Teresa had been used to before being sent to WICKED. For the
millionth time, she longed for that place that had been home, as bleak as it
was. Despite the horrors she’d witnessed there, she longed for her mom and dad
and brothers, for all the people who had loved her before madness took their
light away. Before the—
Ladena’s hand touched Teresa’s
shoulder, making her jump and spin around. It felt like she’d been standing at
the window for hours, lost in thought.
“We have to go,” the woman said, her
voice now filled with something that sounded like actual compassion. “They’re
waiting, and if we take much longer we could both get in trouble.”
Teresa felt a burst of anger, all of
it directed at the person standing in front of her. But there was no reason for
it, and it quickly faded into her usual who-cares attitude.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” Teresa said.
“Let’s go meet this boy.”
Ladena smiled and led her away.
Two men in suits waited at a closed
door, their hands folded in from of them. Their gazes were glued to the wall
behind Teresa and her escort, and if it hadn’t been for their blinking eyes,
Teresa might’ve thought they were statues.
When Ladena spoke, they finally
looked at her.
“We’re ready to meet the boy,” she
said in a timid voice.
“There’ll be no ‘we,’” the man on
the left responded. The only difference between him and his counterpart was
that their dark hair was parted on opposite sides. “You can go now. We’ll take
over from here.”
Teresa thought Ladena might be
offended by the curt response, but instead the woman looked overwhelmingly
relieved.
She turned to Teresa and said,
“You’re even brighter than they said. I can just tell. There’s something about
you. Good luck. Truly, I mean it.” She reached out and squeezed Teresa’s hand,
then quickly walked away, as if she were scared the men might change their
minds and make her stay.
Teresa wanted to respond, say
something to let the woman know that as awkward as it might’ve been between the
two of them, Ladena had shown a little more humanity to her than anyone else
had so far. She’d seemed real.
But nothing came out. And now both
men were staring at her as if she was supposed to decide what happened next.
“Well?” Teresa asked. “What are you
waiting for? Shouldn’t I go inside?”
One of the men chuckled—Teresa had
already forgotten whether he was the one who’d spoken earlier. “They said you
could be a little fireball sometimes. Come on, then. In you go. McVoy is
waiting for you.”
His partner reached over and pressed
his hand against a pad on the wall. There was a click and the door swung open.
Neither man moved, and Teresa wasn’t in the mood to waste time, so without a
word, she walked past them and entered the room.
It was an office, sparsely furnished
with the bare-bones necessities of a work space. A desk, some shelves, a few
chairs around a small table in the corner. Nothing hung on the walls. A woman
with short, dark hair sat at the table, and next to her was a boy who appeared
to be a year or two younger than Teresa, sitting with his hands in his lap,
staring at a spot on the wall opposite him. He looked terribly afraid, was
almost trembling. His eyes flickered up at Teresa but then returned to the same
spot on the wall. He had sandy brown hair and a sunburned face.
The boldness Teresa had been feeling
vanished. She suddenly felt scared herself, and hopelessness welled up inside
her. She didn’t know why, really, but she wanted to turn around and leave.
“Have a seat,” the woman at the
table commanded. Not harshly, but not kindly, either. She pointed to a chair
across from the boy. “We have a lot to talk about.”
She hadn’t finished her sentence
before one of the men closed the door behind Teresa. It startled her, and she
was ashamed at showing her nerves. Trying to make up for it, she walked over
and sat down at the table, choosing the chair right next to the boy instead of
the one the woman had indicated. A small act of defiance, but at least it was
something.
“My name is Katie McVoy,” the woman
said “And . . .” She looked at the boy, then reached over and tapped him on the
shoulder.
The boy looked up at Teresa. “My
name is . . . Thomas. I’m glad to be here, glad to serve WICKED. I’ll do
whatever they need me to do so we can find a cure for the virus.”
Teresa had never heard anything so
forced in her life. But she wasn’t surprised. It’d be a while before the boy
was brave enough to let his true self shine through in front of the WICKED
employees.
“My name’s Teresa,” she said back to
him, trying her best to sound warm. “Don’t worry. It’s not so bad around here.
And the food is pretty good. Plus we’re safe from the . . . you know.”
“The Cranks?” Thomas asked. “The
crazy people?”
Teresa nodded. The sadness in the
boy’s voice was heavy.
“My dad was a . . .” He faltered.
But then a little strength showed up and Thomas straightened in his seat. “He
was a Crank. And my mom would’ve been soon. I’m glad we’re going to help people
like them. And stop it from happening anymore.”
“Me too,” Teresa said, feeling a
little speechless for some reason.
McVoy let out a sigh, then leaned
forward, putting her forearms on the table. “I can tell the two of you are
going to get along just fine. Which is a very good thing, because you’re going
to see an awful lot of each other. You’ve both been chosen to be an integral
part of our plans over the next few years. You’ll play a role that is extremely
important, and you should be proud of yourselves for being selected.”
Teresa was tempted to say a lot of
things, still wanting to show that she wasn’t intimidated by this woman. But
curiosity overcame all else and she waited for more. Thomas sat silently as
well.
“We’re going to make you both even
more special than you already are,” McVoy continued. “You’ll be leaders over
the other immune children. You’re going to help us prepare the tests and
trials, help us train and prepare the subjects. To that end, and for many other
reasons you’ll come to understand later, we’ll be implanting devices in your
heads that will allow you to communicate with each other in a way that’s never
been done before.”
Teresa wanted to ask a dozen
questions. But she didn’t know where to begin.
The woman looked like a proud mother.
“Soon we’ll begin the largest and most important phase of the tremendous task
ahead. And we expect both of you to be a big part of the project.”
“What is it?” Thomas asked, his
voice sounding young even to Teresa’s ears.
McVoy smiled. “The Maze, Thomas. You
and Teresa are going to help us build the Maze.”
A few hours later, Teresa sat on a
couch with Thomas, all alone.
They’d changed her quarters, putting
her in a room that was nicer and bigger, with the tiniest window at the top of
one wall that allowed some natural light into the room. It seemed like light
from heaven. Thomas was in a room similar to hers, and a living area of sorts
was located between them, with furniture and a small kitchen. Even a screen for
entertainment, though Teresa guessed that they’d only see things related to
training them for what lay ahead.
And now, here they were, new
friends—though they didn’t have much of a choice—sitting on a couch, talking.
With a future neither of them could imagine waiting in the wings.
“She said they’re going to put
devices in our heads,” Thomas said. “What does that even mean? Who goes around
putting devices into kids’ heads?”
Teresa laughed, surprising herself
just as much as Thomas—judging by the look on his face.
“What?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing. Just something about
the way you said that. Who does go
around putting things in kids’ heads? WICKED, I guess.”
“What does that name mean, anyway?
Why are they called that?”
“Someone told me there’s a reason
for everything around here and one day we’ll understand. But it does stand for
something. World In Catastrophe: Killzone Experiment Department. You know what
the killzone is, right?”
“Yeah.” He tapped his right temple.
“Where the Flare makes you go nutso.”
“Yep.”
A dark look passed over Thomas, and
Teresa remembered what he’d said about his mom and dad.
“So both of your parents got it,
huh?” she asked.
Thomas nodded, and for a second it
seemed as if he might cry, but then he composed himself. “I was scared to death
of my dad. Before they finally took him away, I was pretty sure he’d just walk
into my room and kill me one night. I’m kind of glad I never have to see my mom
turn into a Crank like that.”
“You’re pretty tough for a kid,”
Teresa said. And she meant it—she was impressed.
“Kid?” Thomas repeated. “Who’re you
calling a kid? You’re not that much older than me.”
“Like I said,” she responded with a
smile. “You’re tough. Look at you. Most kids our age would be bawling their
eyes out still.”
Thomas scoffed, though it didn’t
have much strength behind it. “I’m not scared to cry. I’ve cried pretty much
every day since my dad started going crazy. And I’m not scared to be here. I’ve
seen what that stupid disease does to people, and if they think I can help
them, then it’s a lot better than being put in a creepy old orphanage.”
Teresa was liking this boy more and
more. Maybe she did finally have a
friend.
“When did you find out you were
immune?” she asked him.
“They came and tested me when my dad
caught the virus. I thought it was just normal, to see if my mom and I had it,
too. I didn’t even know you could be immune back then. When they told us I
thought they were joking. They seemed like the kind of jerks who would do
something like that.”
“How’d it feel when you found out?”
Thomas looked at the floor, guilt
flashing over his features.
“What?” Teresa pushed.
His eyes found hers, and suddenly it
felt like she’d known him since they were born. Like he was her brother.
“What?”
she asked again, trying to keep her annoyance out of her voice.
“I was excited. Really, really
excited. All I could think about was how I didn’t have to go through all the
crap that my dad did and my mom would. It made me . . . happy.”
“So? What’s wrong with that?”
Thomas shrugged. “All I cared about
was myself. Even when they took me away and I had to say bye to my mom, I still
kept thinking that I was lucky because I wouldn’t have to watch her go through
it all. And glad that I was going to be okay.”
“Sheesh,” Teresa groaned. “So you’re
a normal human. Anybody would think that stuff. Stop beating yourself up about
it.”
“I’m a selfish brat. My mom needs me
and I basically couldn’t wait to get out of there.”
“Oh, please. You’re telling me that
you don’t miss your mom? That you don’t love her?”
Thomas shook his head slowly. “No.
Not saying that at all. I miss her so bad it hurts. I’m just . . . I didn’t
want to go through that again.”
“Exactly.” Teresa reached out and
patted him on the arm. “You’re normal and honest. I’m glad they stuck us
together to do . . . whatever it is they want us to do.”
“Yeah.”
He only said the one word, but
somehow Teresa could tell he was trying to say a lot. That he agreed with her,
that he was glad to be there with her, that he hoped they could be friends and
make a difference. Help WICKED accomplish the task of finding a cure for the
Flare.
Thomas leaned back on the couch and
folded his arms. “You keep asking me all these questions. What about you?
Where’d you come from? What’s it been like for you?”
“I . . . kind of hate talking about
it.”
“Well, so do I. But I did.”
She pursed her lips and nodded.
“Yeah, you did. It’s good, I guess, to hear about it from someone else. But . .
. mine is kind of a crazy story.” Then she grew silent, knowing he wouldn’t let
her get away with it for long. She was right.
“Well?” he asked. “I’m waiting. Who
doesn’t like a crazy story?”
He smiled, and she smiled back.
“My name was Deedee before I came
here,” she began.
And then she told him the rest.
