The Death Cure - James Dashner [57]
They made it to the end of the third block and turned left without saying a word to each other. The air was stifling, and sweat had moistened every last inch of Thomas’s body. When he reached up to wipe his forehead, Red Shirt whacked him in the head with the butt of the gun.
“Don’t do that,” the man said. “I might get nervous and put a hole in your brain.”
It took every ounce of Thomas’s willpower to stay silent.
The street was abandoned and there was trash everywhere. Posters—some warning about the Flare, others images of Chancellor Paige—covered the lower portion of the buildings’ walls, and everything was spray-painted, layer on top of layer, by the looks of it. When they reached an intersection and had to stop to wait for a few passing cars, Thomas focused on an unmarked poster right next to him—a new one, he guessed from its lack of graffiti. He read the words of warning.
Public Service Announcement
!!! Stop the Spread of the Flare !!!
Help stop the spread of the Flare. Know the symptoms before you infect your neighbors and loved ones.
The Flare is the virus Flarevirus (VC321xb47), a highly contagious, manmade infectious disease that was accidentally released during the chaos of the sun flare catastrophe. The Flare causes a progressive, degenerative illness of the brain, resulting in uncontrolled movements, emotional disturbances and mental deterioration. The result has been the Flare pandemic.
Scientists are conducting late-stage clinical trials, but there is no standard treatment for the Flare at this time. The virus is generally fatal, and can be spread through the air.
At this time citizens must unite to prevent further spread of this pandemic. By learning how to recognize yourself and others as Viral Contagion Threats (VCTs) you will take the first step in the battle against the Flare.*
*Any suspicious subjects should be reported to the authorities immediately.
It went on to talk about a five- to seven-day incubation period and the symptoms—how such things as irritability and trouble with balance were early warning signs, followed by dementia, paranoia and severe aggression later on. Thomas had witnessed them all firsthand, having crossed paths with Cranks on more than one occasion.
Red Shirt gave Thomas a slight shove and they continued walking. As they made their way, Thomas couldn’t stop thinking about the poster’s dire message. The part about the Flare’s being manmade not only haunted him, it tickled something in his brain, a memory he couldn’t quite latch on to. Even though the sign didn’t say it outright, he knew there was something else, and for the first time in a while he wished he could access the past for just a moment.
“It’s right up here.”
Red Shirt’s voice pulled him back to the present. A small white car waited at the end of the block, just a few dozen feet down the street. Thomas desperately tried to think of a way out of this—if he got in that vehicle it might all be over. But could he really risk getting shot?
“You’re going to slide nice and easy into the backseat,” Red Shirt said. “I’ve got some cuffs in there, and I’m going to watch you put them on yourself. You think you can handle that without doing something stupid?”
Thomas didn’t respond. He hoped desperately that Minho and the others were close, making a plan. He needed someone or something to distract his captor.
They reached the car and Red Shirt pulled out a key card and pressed it to the front passenger window. The locks clicked and he opened the back door, his gun trained on Thomas the whole time.
“Get in. Easy does it.”
Thomas hesitated, searching the streets for anyone, anything. The area was deserted, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed movement. A hovering machine almost as large as a car. He spun to look and the cop machine swerved onto the street two blocks down and started heading their way. A humming sound grew louder as it approached.
“I said get in,” Red Shirt repeated. “The cuffs are in the console in the middle.”
“One of those cop machine