The New Horizon ~ A Maze Runner Story

- 41 -

The Blue Team won that game. Thomas and May squeezed their way out of the stadium as quick as they could before the next wave of baseball fans squeezed their way in for the final game of the night. They caught a taxi, talking all about the game; recapping the strikes and the home runs, laughing about some of the angry Red Team fans, joking about who would be a better baseball player if they had the chance. May claimed she had a great arm, Thomas wanted her to prove it. Someday, she said; he'd hold her to it. Once they were back at the City Sanctuary, a female receptionist called Thomas's name. He turned to look at her, suddenly distracted by her shaved pink hair and zombie tattoo etched across her chest. The receptionists at that place were definitely . . . eccentric.

"Thomas, that's your name right?" Her voice was so raspy her words were almost unclear, but Thomas nodded. She pointed to the telephone mounted on the wall to his left. "Phone's for ya. Line two."
May looked to Thomas, then shrugged, curious. He was curious himself. Who could possibly be calling him--and how did they know he was staying there? For the briefest second, a pang of panic clamped down inside his chest--is it WICKED? He asked himself, unable to reach out to the shabby telephone. May must have caught on because she was there right beside him, asking him if he was alright. Quickly, Thomas swallowed any fear. "Yeah. Sorry."

Thomas reached out and picked the phone up. Suddenly, his pulse rushed into his ears. "Hello?"
"Thomas, this is Doctor Owens. I've been meaning to talk with you. I called every City Sanctuary in hopes I would reach you."
He felt as if he could topple over in relief. Blowing out a puff of air, he stood up taller and nodded, not hesitating to show a smile. "Hey, Doctor. What is it you need to tell me?"
"I don't know if you have secured a job yet, but we--as in the Board of Doctors and Scientists here at AFA--would like you to sit on our council as we plan for the distribution of vaccines."

Thomas couldn't believe it. He exhaled again, feeling absurd about his fear only moments ago. "Really? Yes, of course."
He could picture Doctor Owens' professional smile, tight and courteous. "We will be delighted to have you."
"When will you need me?"
She answered immediately, "Tomorrow, noon. I can arrange for a cab to pick you up."
"That would be great."
"Great. I will see you then." She hung up without any last words.

Thomas set the phone back on its hook, staring at it in wonder. He turned to May before she could ask what he'd spoken about. "Doctor Owens wants me to help with the--" he barely caught himself in time before blurting out the classified information to the receptionist who had no shame in staring at him-- "plan. . ."
May thought for a moment, then caught on. Her eyes shone. "That's amazing, Tom."
Thomas's happiness was momentarily interrupted by that name: Tom. No one had called him that except Teresa. When May's expression changed in question, Thomas reached out and hugged her, not knowing what else he could've done.

May was warm and soft in his arms. Her body caressing his, chest to chest, was the closest he'd been to her. In that moment, he swore to himself he would find any excuse to hug her--just to feel her against him. To feel her hands touching him.
When he finally pulled away, the receptionist was clearing her throat, arms folded, mildly disturbed. Thomas spoke only to break the awkward tension in that unkempt lobby. "Let me know if I get anymore, uh, phone calls."
"Uh-huh." She replied, rolling her eyes as if displeased with him, for whatever reason, Thomas didn't know. He was only relieved. He finally had a job--if that's what he could call saving the world.

***

Thomas was shocked at how late he'd slept in--it was past eleven o'clock. Above him, Minho was gone, off to his first day of Enforcement training. Sonya and Aris were the only ones left on the second floor, heading off to breakfast. Thomas discovered that May was gone too. Probably out looking for a job. The only option he had left was to get ready for AFA.

The taxi picked him up right in front of the City Sanctuary, and before long, Thomas was dropped off in front of AFA. A female guard, broad and stout, led Thomas through a secret entrance hidden from the public. It was like its own convoluted maze, up and down staircases, and into a dimly lit alley that looked like it belonged to anywhere but AFA.
Finally, he had reached AFA's main entrance. That tranquil greenery and massive hotel-like building a living beacon of the corporation's power. Thomas could never not be impressed by it.

After being led once more through the lobby of AFA's building, and through several hallways that stemmed with doors on every side, he was finally in what was called the Council Room. It was explanatory enough: a giant room with one mammoth table in the epicenter of it, thirty-or-so chairs positioned perfectly around the table, windows all around allowing the luminous noon light peek through. Where there wasn't windows, there were mounted shelves and picture frames of beaches and landmark sites like the Eiffel Tower, Giza Pyramids, even Taj Mahal. Thomas only wondered what those sites looked like now--if they'd even survived the sun flares.

Inside, twenty others--scientists and doctors--stood around, conversing with each other. And then there was Thomas. A kid with little knowledge about science or brain implants, standing among some of the smartest. It was incredibly intimidating, but they all seemed to turn and stare at him with flames alight in their eyes, as if Thomas were the most respectable one there. A celebrity, some kind of god. He just shrunk, unfamiliar with anyone. Relief bursted inside him when Doctor Owens walked over to him, shaking his hand gently. "Welcome, Thomas. Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for having me," Thomas replied, still frightened, knowing his hands were cold and uncomfortable in her warm, steady ones. She gestured for everyone to be seated, and they all obeyed, briskly congregating to the monstrous, polished table. Doctor Wells took a seat on the opposite end of the table, Doctor Owens was at the head.
"As you are aware," she said, somehow maintaining contact with all twenty-five others around her, "Thomas has joined us, and will be part of our council."
All eyes turned to him, everyone's expression courteous. Thomas reciprocated that as best he could, his nerves taking over.

"We have been receiving positive results from our fifty applicants we have chosen to test the vaccine--not including our first, May Easton," Owens' eyes flickered onto Thomas's, "but, federally, we have to test many more in order for the vaccine to become legalized. We're trying to keep this as secretive to the public as we can, though rumors have been spread. Regardless, vaccines will continue to be manufactured, despite the government's request to wait until it has been approved. We can't afford to waste any more time. Infections have skyrocketed by eighty-nine percent, world-wide. If we can be the first to cure people, the rest of the world will follow. That is our goal."

Thomas sat there, rapt in the reality of the world. He'd forgotten so much about the death and decay in the short few days he'd been in British Columbia. And to think that the Flare was only increasing while the government limited the chances of AFA saving the world--it was enough to make him sick. "So," Owens continued once a couple doctors shared their complaints on the vaccine's restrictions, "we will have to override anyone who gets in our way if the government does push back. Let's all hope they don't. Until then, we will plan out the schematics of our vaccine and prep it completely."

Owens continued, "Now since Thomas is the one who gave us the ability to create such a cure, he will be our number one voice." She shot Thomas a look. A tender yet proud, parent-like look. "This vaccine is humanity's only hope--we will make it work, and hopefully before the RBI's are gone."