Michael sat on the cot, so dazed by the man’s visit that he felt separated from his body, his consciousness floating in some ethereal world that made no sense. The air buzzed with something malicious, a feeling that he could only compare to those horrible moments when he’d Lifted out of the Sleep into another person’s body.
And then he heard the tap-tap-tapping of high heels.
He couldn’t believe it. How did she dare show her face?
He looked up just as she walked into sight on the other side of the bars.
“Really?” he asked. “You came to visit me? Be thankful I’m locked in here.”
Agent Weber stopped. Her face was completely unreadable.
“Michael,” she said. “There are things you don’t understand. Especially about me. Also about why things have come to pass the way they have.”
Michael’s heart beat rapidly, and his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. He couldn’t even speak.
“Everything said in here is recorded,” she continued. “I have to be careful. But just know that what you think about me is not true. You and I are on the same side. I’m not … who I used to be, for one thing.” Her eyes flared a little when she said that, as if she wanted him to get a secret message. “And the role of the VNS is much more complicated than you think.”
She leaned very close and whispered so softly that he could barely hear. “The VNS created Kaine, Michael. But now he’s gone rogue. And he deliberately led you to that building in Lifeblood Deep so that you’d go there in the real world. I didn’t switch you. I swear it on my life. No one at VNS can be trusted anymore. And Kaine wanted all evidence of his connection to them destroyed.” She took a step back, as if, with only a few sentences, she hadn’t just spun the world like a top.
Michael stood still, trembling with anger. And he stared harder into her eyes. Oh man, how he missed his friends. He could do this, he could handle this moment—right there and then—if only Bryson were sitting on the cot, making jokes. If Sarah were by his side, holding his hand.
“One more thing before I go,” Weber said. “And this is very important.” She paused, looking left and right, then back at Michael. “You can never destroy a human intelligence. Nor a programmed intelligence. Do you understand me? They’re stored. All of them. Both human and Tangent. The Decay may scramble them a bit, but they still exist. They can be put back together. This is going to …” She seemed to search her mind for the right way to say something. “I think it will make all the difference in the struggle ahead. If things are ever going to be made right.”
That made the other stuff go away for a second. Although he couldn’t imagine why she was telling him this, it made him think something that he was scared to ask. But he did anyway.
“Not that I can believe a word you’ve said,” he said, “but are you trying to tell me that my parents—my real parents, my Tangent parents—are still alive? And that Jackson Porter is still alive? That somebody figured out how to download a human’s mind?”
Weber took a step back and once again looked to the left, then the right, then back at Michael.
“Things will get worse before they get better,” she said. “But I do believe that they can and will get better. Goodbye, Michael.”
He didn’t bother yelling for her to wait this time. It would do no good.
Her high heels tapped their staccato rhythm as she disappeared down the hall.
They’d taken away most of his access but allowed him an EarCuff, with very limited ability to use the Net. Some entertainment. Simple games. Even criminals got that in a world where reality just wasn’t enough.
He lay on the cot and stared at the NetScreen absently, the glowing green plane mostly blank. His thoughts swam with all the things he’d heard from his two visitors. So much information. So much strange information. The VNS had created Kaine? His family and Helga might still be out there? Just as he’d dared hope.
His mind could barely handle it all. He missed the world outside his cell. Wondered what was going to happen. Worried. About everything.
But mostly, right that second, he missed his friends.
A little blip of light caught his attention on the NetScreen.
He looked, but it had disappeared.
A few seconds later, it flashed again, white against green. Then gone.
He watched and waited.
Another blip—this time it lasted longer.
And then two words appeared, as crisp and bright as if they’d been there forever.
I’m here. S.
Michael’s chest swelled. His mind relaxed. His heart softened.
Sarah.
Only she had the guts and compassion to do what she’d just done. Seemingly simple, but he knew how much effort it had taken, and doubted he could do it back. They were being watched like hawks. But he’d sure try.
Sarah. She was there, and for now, that would have to do.
He started working on a response. It took him an hour to break through the heavy fortifications of the prison systems without being detected. But he wouldn’t let himself sleep until he’d done the deed. Finally he sent the message, then lay back to get some desperately needed sleep. What he’d sent seemed appropriate—they were, after all, gamers when it all came down to it. The message floated in his thoughts and dreams like a beacon for the rest of the night.
We will win.
Two days later, Michael received his third visitor. Except this time, no cop came to announce him. A series of buzzes and a rattling of metallic clicks echoed through the halls of the jail. Michael had been lying on his bunk, but at the strange noises he sat up and strained to listen. Heavy footsteps, getting closer. A door in the bars of the cell creaked open several inches. Then a man walked in and stood there like he owned the place.
“Come on, Michael,” the newcomer said. “Your prison days are over.”
It was Sarah’s dad. Gerard.
Michael swallowed a lump in his throat and tried to speak, but no words came out. Surely he was dreaming.
“Or … you can take a nap before we go.” It took a second for Michael to even get the sarcasm, confused at why he’d go back to sleep when his cell door stood wide open.
“Michael,” Gerard said forcefully. “Get up. We’re leaving.”
“Okay,” he managed to squeak out, standing, hurrying over to Sarah’s dad. “Okay. But …”
“Yeah. I know. Things aren’t a whole lot less confusing for me, either. Let’s just go.”
Michael nodded, then followed Gerard out of the cell, down the hallway, noticing that all the doors stood open. The prison was almost empty.
“Sarah,” Michael said. “Bryson. Where are they?”
“Don’t worry, I already got them.” Michael followed Gerard through a heavily reinforced door that stood ajar. “They were in a separate wing. They’re already in the car, waiting with my wife. You’ll be with them in two minutes. Now pick up the pace.”
Gerard broke into a jog, and Michael followed suit. Sarah’s parents, alive and well. Michael and his friends, being freed. Slowly it was all starting to hit him. He felt a surge of elation that he could barely suppress.
They went through another security door and entered the lobby of the prison—the place was completely empty, not a cop or anyone else in sight.
“How?” Michael asked, running to keep up with Gerard as they headed for the sunshine that waited outside.
Gerard stopped, then turned to face Michael, his breathing heavy. “A group of people rescued me and my wife. Then arranged all this.” He held his hands up, looking around. “They said something about being Tangents—that they used to be Tangents—which I just don’t get. But you think I cared? We’re safe and back with our daughter.”
He started to turn away, but Michael grabbed him by the shoulder, suddenly filled with alarm. “Tangents?” he asked. “You’re sure they said that?”
Gerard nodded. “Yeah, led by some woman. Said her name was Helga.” He grabbed
Michael and pulled him through the door, into the open air and the blazing sun. Michael followed Sarah’s dad, running after him toward a car waiting on the street, its engines rumbling, a spark of hope burning in his chest.
Thank you, readers. Every day it hits me a little more just how fantastic you are, all of you. Thank you, dude or lady who invented the Internet, for making that possible.
Thank you, educators, librarians, booksellers, and everyone else who pushes these books on poor, unsuspecting folks looking for a new read.
Thank you, Krista Marino, my patient, thorough, brilliant editor.
Thank you, Michael Bourret, Best Agent Ever.
Thank you, Lauren Abramo, Best International Agent Ever.
Thank you, Random House, for throwing so much incredible support my way. And for making me feel part of the family.
Thank you, Lynette, for sticking by my side. You are Everything.
Thank you, Wesley, Bryson, Kayla, and Dallin, for making Daddyhood such awesomeness.
Thank you, Mom, for raising me right and encouraging my creativity.
And this may be a strange place to do it, but …
Thank you, Twentieth Century Fox, Gotham Group, Wes Ball, Wyck Godfrey, T. S. Nowlin, and all the cast and crew for what you’ve done with the Maze Runner movie. Not only have you captured my vision perfectly, you’ve brought me many new readers, and for that I’m supremely grateful.
And again, even though twice isn’t nearly enough: Thank you, readers. Thank you very much.
James Dashner was born and raised in Georgia but lives and writes in the Rocky Mountains. He is the author of the New York Times bestselling Maze Runner series: The Maze Runner, The Scorch Trials, The Death Cure, and The Kill Order. The Rule of Thoughts is the second book in the Mortality Doctrine series. Look for the first book, The Eye of Minds, available from Delacorte Press. To learn more about James and his books, visit jamesdashner.com, follow @jamesdashner on Twitter, and find him on Instagram at dashnerjames.
James Dashner, The Rule of Thoughts
(Series: The Mortality Doctrine # 2)
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