Desire ❃ newt

cнapтer 43

"Kameron." The voice was distant, warbled, like an echo in a long tunnel. "Kameron, can you hear me?"

I didn't want to answer. My mind had shut down when it could no longer take the pain; I feared it would all return if I allowed myself back into consciousness. I sensed light on the other side of my eyelids, but knew it would be unbearable to open them. I did nothing.

"Kameron, it's Chuck. Are you okay? Please don't die."

Everything came crashing back into my mind. The Glade, the Grievers, the stinging needle, the Changing. Memories. The Maze couldn't be solved. Their only way out was something they'd never expected. Something terrifying. I was crushed with despair.

Groaning, I forced my eyes open, squinting at first.

Chuck's pudgy face was there, staring with frightened eyes. But then they lit up and a smile spread across his face. Despite it all, despite the terrible crappiness of it all, Chuck smiled.

"She's awake!" the boy yelled to no one in particular. "Kameron is awake!"

The booming sound of his voice made me wince; I shut my eyes again. "Chuck, do you have to scream? I don't feel so good."

"Sorry—I'm just glad you're alive. You're lucky I don't give you a big kiss."

"Please don't do that, Chuck." I opened my eyes again and forced myself to sit up in the bed in which I lay, pushing my back against the wall and stretching out mylegs. Soreness ate at my joints and muscles. "How long did it take?" I asked.

"Three days," Chuck answered. "We put you in the Slammer at night to keep you safe—brought you back here during the days. Thought you were dead for sure about thirty times since you started but check you out—you look brand-new!"

I could only imagine how non-great I looked. "Did the Grievers come?"

Chuck's jubilation visibly crashed to the ground as his eyes sank down toward the floor. "Yeah—they got Zart and a couple others. One a night. Minho and the Runners have scoured the Maze, trying to find an exit or some use for that stupid code you guys came up with but nothing. Why do you think the Grievers are only taking one shank at a time?"

My stomach turned sour—I knew the exact answer to that question, and some others now. Enough to know that sometimes knowing sucked.

"Get Newt and Alby," I finally said in answer. "Tell them we need to have a Gathering. Soon as possible."

"Serious?"

I  let out a sigh. "Chuck, I just went through the Changing. Do you think I'm serious?"

Without a word, Chuck jumped up and ran out of the room, his calls for Newt fading the farther he went.

I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall.

Newt had walked over to the bed and sat down next to me. "Greenbean—you barely look sick."

I nodded. "I feel a little queasy, but other than that, I'm fine. Thought it'd be a lot worse."

Newt shook his head, his face a mixture of anger and awe. "What you did was half brave and half bloody stupid. Seems like you're pretty good at that." He paused, shook his head. "I know why you did it. What memories came back? Anything that'll help?"

"We need to have a Gathering," I said, shifting my legs to get more comfortable. Surprisingly, I didn't feel much pain, just wooziness. "Before I start forgetting some of this stuff."

"Yeah, Chuck told me—we'll do it. But why? What did you figure out?"

"It's a test, Newt—the whole thing is a test."

Newt nodded. "Like an experiment."

I shook my head. "No, you don't get it. They're weeding us out, seeing if we'll give up, finding the best of us. Throwing variables at us, trying to make us quit. Testing our ability to hope and fight. Sending Teresa here and shutting everything down was only the last part, one more . . . final analysis. Now it's time for the last test: to escape."

Newt's brow crinkled in confusion. "What do you mean? You know a way out?"

"Yeah. Call the Gathering. Now."