WICKED told them the Trial was over -no more tests, no more lies, but Frankie had been deceived enough to know that the statement alone could never be true.
Truthfully, she wanted to die. She wanted to leave this cruel world of being experimented an...
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MINHO WOKE UP to the last sound of his snore and Thomas, shaking him awake.
"Minho. Wake up."
"Huh?" Minho opened his eyes slowly and coughed. His eyelids still felt heavy and, if it was up to him, he would like another minute (or hour) of sleep. "What? What's going on?"
"Nothing. I just want to know what happened. Did Hans get the thing switched off? Are we fixed?"
Minho nodded through a big yawn. "Yeah, both of us. At least, he said he did. Man, you wigged out big time. You remember all that?"
"Of course I do," Thomas said. His face flushed red in embarrassment. "But it was like I was paralyzed or something. I kept trying, but I couldn't stop whatever was controlling me."
"I don't get any memories back. Do you?"
Thomas shook his head, "Other than the ones I got from my dreams, no."
"Would you guys shut up?" Reggie moaned from another chair, "I really want to sleep. Five minutes."
Brenda, Jorge, and Hans walked in from the mysterious side door with serious look on their faces.
"Is it fixed?" Thomas repeated his question, this time to Brenda.
Minho punched his arm playfully, "Dude. You don't trust me? Gotta ask from the girl, do you?"
"It worked," Brenda said, "Judging from the fact that you're not trying to kill us anymore, it's deactivated and, well, you shouldn't be able to talk to or hear from Teresa and Aris again."
"Suits me fine."
"Well, Hans and his wife are going to leave, but he wanted to tell us something first."
"Sit down," Hans instructed, forcing Reggie and Minho out of their stupor. They shifted in their seats —all six of them forming a distorted circle. The old man's face suddenly looked serious, much more serious and intimidating than he did earlier. Like he was going to announce his death day or terminal sickness to his family.
It had to be something important.
He lifted his gaze from his lap and searched the group, searching for a proper starter sentence, and ended up looked directly at Reggie, "Your implant. Is it fixed, or are you refusing to fix it because you're not Immune?"
Reggie blinked. "I am Immune."
"I'm pretty sure you're not," Hans frowned, "From what I remembered. You and another girl."
"Oh, it must be the weird brain thing," Reggie said, "Frances and I were categorized as Immune recently. Some doctor chick said the Flare's just enveloping our brain instead of eating it or something. Besides, I got through the test getting into this city just fine, didn't I?"
The old man pursed his lips in doubt.
"What?" Minho asked impatiently, crossing his arms. If this had something to do with Frankie, he really had to know. "Just tell us already. Maybe we can make use of that information."
