his eyes snapped open as he imagined himself back in the Box - that horrible cube of cold metal that
had delivered him to the Glade and the Maze. But there was a faint light, and lumps of dim shadow
gradually emerged throughout the huge room. Bunk beds. Dressers. The soft breaths of gurgly snores
of boys deep in slumber.
Relief filled him. He was safe now, rescued and delivered to this dormitory. No more worries. No
more Grievers. No more death.
Tom?
A voice in his head. A girl's. Not audible, not visible. But he heard it all the same, though never
could he have explained to anyone how it worked.
Exhaling a deep breath, he relaxed into his pillow, his razor-edged nerves settling down from that
fleeting moment of terror. He spoke back, forming the words with his thoughts.
Teresa? What time is it?
No idea, she replied. But I can't sleep. I probably dozed for an hour or so. Maybe more. I was
hoping you were awake to keep me company.
Thomas tried not to smile. Even though she wouldn't be able to see it, it would be embarrassing all
the same.