SONDER (IV): tmr thomas

015: I should see him sooner

Michelle 15

Minutes after the berg lands, we are piling out of the ship. Everyone says their good-byes to the Cranks who are staying behind. As it turns out, Lott didn't want to go either. I follow the others out of the Berg in a large clump.

"Everyone have their fakes?" Brenda asks, her voice a quiet whisper as she passes them out through the group.

"They won't pay much attention to us, they'll just care that you're immune," Jorge nods, beginning to herd us into the centre where we be scanned, or whatever. "They'll just be keen to get us out there, and don't be surprised if you get a job offer. Just play it cool, muchachos."

We begin to walk towards a gigantic concrete wall. It's as tall as those in the Maze, except its designed to keep us out rather than in. I can hear Thomas gulping in front of me. I don't know why everyone is planning like this is the end of the world. It seems easy enough to me.

We walk in. They scan us. We walk out. It's not even easier said than done.

Once we are at the doors, we stand still. A beep sounds from a speaker embedded in the wall. A woman's voice crackles through. "State your name and business."

"I'm Jorge Gallagara, a Berg pilot. I've got my licence and paperwork here," he flashes a plastic card up towards the door. Along the clear back I notice metal wires sprouting across the plastic, as if they are the roots of a tree. "With me I've got Brenda Despain, Thomas Murphy, Minho Park, Jason Wu, Leonora Lycan, Sheil Jones, and Michelle O'Sullivan."

The voice on the other line pauses. "Please hold."

We stand together in silence for a minute. This is the first time I think I haven't absolutely lamented the sun. I burn easily since my skin is so shucking pale, but up here it doesn't matter. Prior to this moment, I had assumed the sun's glare would be much harsher in the mountains, perhaps even as fiery as the Scorch. As always, the outside world proves me wrong.

The door buzzes, and cracks open. Our small group begins to huddle inside the doorway. There is a large screen on the adjacent wall. Jorge approaches it and enters all of our names, scanning our fakes with everyone. He finally stops, turning to the wall and staring.

"Paperwork is satisfactory," the voice cracks out again. "Move forward for viral contagion testing."

A panel in the wall opens up, revealing a large mechanical arm. On the end is a flimsy plastic with wires poking out of the sides. Jorge presses his face up against the monstrosity and I can feel myself panic. Back in the Maze, I refused to let Leo run any basic medical tests on me; this is a shucking nightmare!

Brenda moves through, followed by Thomas and then one after the other each person goes to it. When it is my turn, I press my face in the centre. A small needle pricks me in the back of my neck, but I barely notice it. The machine flashes a few colours, which all blur in my vision, and then it beeps.

I pull away.

"You've all been cleared as immune," the voice crackles through. "In Denver, there will be a vast number of positions for you to fill, though keep your condition discreet. Many still do not take kindly to immunes."

A door reveals itself, a large glass room tightly enclosed. The lights flash on and off just for a second, and the chamber falls so dark that I imagine it absorbs the light.

"Enter the detector one at a time," the voice crackles out.

This is getting to be ridiculous. I roll my eyes, glancing over at Leo who bounces nervously beside me. Getting into Denver requires more work than crossing the Scorch. All these shanks who are vulnerable to the Flare are a bunch of babies. Like, yeah, the disease does suck, but is it any better trapping everything out like this?