There was something disturbing about the look on his face. Blank. His eyes were almost floating in their sockets, and yet there was a hint of pleasure there. When Thomas pointed it out to Brenda, she whispered that the guy was probably on the Bliss and would be jailed if he got caught. It gave Thomas the willies. He hoped the man would leave soon.

Jorge returned with sandwiches and steaming cups of coffee and the four of them ate and drank in silence. Thomas knew they all realized the urgency of their situation, but he was grateful to rest and get some strength back.

They finished up and were getting ready to leave, but Brenda remained in her seat. “Would you guys mind waiting outside for a few minutes?” she asked. Her look made it obvious that she meant Jorge and Minho.

“Excuse me?” Minho responded, his tone exasperated. “More secrets?”

“No. Nothing like that. I promise. I just need a moment. I want to tell Thomas something.”

Thomas was surprised but curious. He sat back down. “Just go,” he said, addressing Minho. “You know I won’t keep anything from you. And she knows it, too.”

His friend grumbled, but finally went with Jorge, and the two of them stood out on the sidewalk near the closest window. Minho flashed Thomas a goofy grin and waved, his sarcasm making it obvious he wasn’t exactly happy. Thomas waved back, then focused on Brenda.

“So? What’s this all about?” he asked.

“I know we need to hurry, so I’ll be really quick. We haven’t had time to be alone, and I just want to make sure you know that what happened in the Scorch wasn’t an act. I was there on a job, I was there to help things play out, but I did grow close to you and it did change me. And there are a few things I think you deserve to know. About me, about Chancellor Paige, about—”

Thomas held his hand up to cut her off. “Please just stop.”

She pulled back, a look of surprise on her face. “What? Why?”

“I don’t want to know anything. Not one more thing. All I care about is what we’re going to do from here out, not stuff about my past or yours or WICKED’s. Nothing. And we need to move.”

“But—”

“No, Brenda. I mean it. We’re here and we have a goal and that’s all we need to focus on. No more talking.”

She held his gaze without saying anything, then looked down at her hands resting on the table. “Then all I’ll say is I know you’re doing the right thing, going in the right direction. And I’ll keep helping as best I can.”

Thomas hoped he hadn’t hurt her feelings, but he meant what he’d said. It was time to let go, even though she was obviously itching to tell him something. As he searched for a response, his eyes wandered back to the odd man on the bench. He’d pulled something Thomas couldn’t see out of his pocket and was pressing it against the crook of his right elbow. He closed his eyes in a long blink, looking a little dazed when they opened again. His head slowly drifted backward until it rested on the window.

The red-shirted Flare tester stepped into the café and Thomas leaned over to get a better look. Red Shirt walked toward the bench where the drugged-out man was still resting peacefully. A short woman moved along next to the tester, whispering into his ear and fidgeting nervously.

“Thomas?” Brenda asked.

He put a finger to his lips, then nodded toward the potential confrontation. She turned in her seat to see what was going on.

Red Shirt kicked the toe of the guy on the bench, who flinched and looked up. The men started exchanging words, but Thomas couldn’t hear what they were saying over the bustle and buzz of the crowded coffee shop. The man who’d been relaxing there suddenly looked scared.

Brenda turned back to Thomas. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

“Why?” The air seemed to have thickened, and Thomas was curious about what was going to happen.

Brenda was already standing. “Just come on!”

She turned and walked briskly toward the exit, and Thomas finally moved to follow her. He’d just risen from his chair when Red Shirt pulled out a gun and pointed it at the man on the bench, then leaned in to place his testing device on the man’s face. But the man swatted it away and rushed forward, tackling the tester. Thomas stared, frozen in shock, as the gun skittered away and disappeared under a counter. The two men crashed into a table and slammed to the floor.

Red Shirt started yelling; his voice sounded almost robotic coming through the protective metal mask covering his mouth and nose. “We’ve got an infected! Everyone evacuate the building!”

The place turned into pandemonium, screams filling the air as everyone fled toward the only exit.

CHAPTER 30

Thomas wished he hadn’t hesitated. He should’ve run when he’d had the chance. A pack of bodies pressed forward, blocking the door. Brenda wouldn’t have been able to come back even if she’d tried. Thomas was stuck at the table, watching in stunned silence as the two men struggled on the floor, punching and grabbing and trying to gain the advantage.

Thomas realized that though it was possible he could get hurt by the fleeing crowd, he really had nothing to worry about. He was immune. The rest of the people in the shop had freaked out knowing the virus was so close. And understandably—odds were at least one of them had caught it. But as long as he could stay out of the way of the commotion, he was probably safe right where he was.

Someone pounded on the window and Thomas turned to see Brenda next to Minho and Jorge on the sidewalk—she was motioning frantically for him to get out. But Thomas wanted to watch what was happening.

Red Shirt had finally pinned the man to the ground. “It’s over! They’re already on their way,” he shouted, again in that creepy mechanized voice.

The infected man stopped struggling, burst into lurching sobs. It was then that Thomas realized the crowd had fully evacuated and the coffee shop was empty except for the two men and Thomas. An eerie silence settled on the place.

Red Shirt glanced at him. “Why’re you still here, kid—got a death wish?” The man didn’t let Thomas answer, though. “If you’re gonna stick around, make yourself useful. Find me the gun.” He turned his attention back to the man he’d restrained.

Thomas felt like he was in a dream. He’d seen a lot of violence, but this was different somehow. He went to fetch the gun from under the counter where it had disappeared. “I’m … I’m immune,” he stammered. He got down on his knees and reached, straining until his fingers found the cool metal. He pulled the gun out and walked over to Red Shirt.

The man didn’t offer any thanks. He took his gun and jumped back to his feet, pointing the weapon at the infected man’s face. “This is bad, really bad. Been happening more and more—you can tell when someone’s drugged out on the Bliss.”

“So it was the Bliss,” Thomas murmured.

“You knew?” Red Shirt asked.

“Well, he’s looked weird ever since I got here.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” The skin around the guard’s mask almost matched the color of his shirt. “What’s wrong with you?”

Thomas was taken aback by Red Shirt’s sudden anger. “I … I’m sorry. I didn’t really know what was going on.”

The infected man had curled up into a ball on the ground and was sobbing. Red Shirt finally stepped away from him and looked sternly at Thomas. “You didn’t know? What kind of … Where are you from?”

Now Thomas really wished he had run. “I’m … my name’s Thomas. I’m nobody. I just …” He searched for something to say—to explain himself. “I’m not from around here. Sorry.”

Red Shirt turned the gun on him. “Sit down. Sit down right there.” He flicked the gun toward a nearby chair.

“Wait! I swear I’m immune!” Thomas’s heart thudded in his chest. “That’s why I—”