Free The Game of Lives by James Dashner Page A

herself. There was a squeak of movement on a cot, then soft footsteps and a moving shadow. Sarah sat down on the floor next to Michael’s cot and patted his hand.
    “Strange doesn’t even begin to describe it,” she said.
    “Makes our old gaming days seem downright dull,” Bryson added.
    Michael shifted and leaned up on an elbow. Sarah was close and warm, and it gave him some comfort. “I can’t believe you guys don’t hate me,” he said. “Think how sweet your lives were before I yanked you into my freak show.”
    “Oh, please, not this again,” Sarah groaned. “Like we’d be better off living at home, not knowing the world was being possessed by Tangents and crumbling around us. At least we have an opportunity to do something about it this way.”
    “But that’s the thing,” Bryson said, his face hidden in darkness. “What’re we going to do? Even if we
do
go to the Hallowed Ravine and somehow manage to destroy the Mortality Doctrine program, Kaine or someone else could just recode it down the road. Plus, there’s that giant Hive, growing by the second. Wipe that thing out and who knows how many people we’d kill? That true death crap.”
    Sarah was rubbing her temples with both hands. “Guys, can we talk about something happy for a little while? Something that has nothing to do with the Sleep, or Kaine, or Tangents, or mass murder? Please?”
    Michael reached out and touched her shoulder. Sarah had never said anything so glorious in all the time he’d known her.
    “What else is there to discuss?” Bryson asked. “Are we going to tell each other our favorite childhood memories or something?”
    “Yes, actually. That’s a great idea,” Sarah said, suddenly cheery. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do. You first, Bryson.”
    “What? Serious?”
    “Totally.”
    Mostly dressed in shadow, Bryson swung his legs around and sat up on his cot, leaning forward with elbows on knees. “All right,” he said. “You asked for it. But it’s going to shatteryour illusion that I was a childhood prodigy, well on my way to becoming the smartest man alive.”
    “We’ll risk it,” Michael muttered.
    Bryson rubbed his hands together, then started in. “Okay, I was…five years old, I think. So I was a little kid, but that still doesn’t excuse how stupid I was. I mean, seriously, I had to have been one brainless child. Maybe I had an implant later in life. Or hey, maybe I’m a Tangent!”
    “Not funny,” Sarah said. “And would you please get on with this amazing story of what an idiot child you were?”
    It didn’t faze Michael. He’d long since accepted that he was a Tangent. The lighter they could make of it, the better. It was a huge, and relieving, change for him.
    “Christmas,” Bryson said. “Snowing outside, sparkly lights everywhere, a real tree in the living room. Man, that thing smelled good. My dad chopped it down himself while I watched. I’m pretty sure we stole it off some dude’s land, but that’s another story. Anyway, I was the youngest kid, three brothers and a sister. They were all at school and my mom had gone upstairs to take a nap. And there I was, poor little baby brother, sitting in the living room, staring at a mound of wrapped presents under the tree. So inviting. It was like the paper could talk, telling me I should take a peek, see what everyone would get from Mom and Pop.”
    “You sneaked a look at some Christmas presents?” Sarah asked. “That’s it? What kid in history didn’t do that?”
    “Well, I didn’t,” Michael said. “I’m Jewish.”
    Sarah laughed. “What? You are? How’d I not know that?”
    “My parents weren’t the most religious people on the block.”
    “Excuse me?” Bryson interrupted. “Can I finish?”
    Sarah laughed again, and Michael’s heart felt just a little lighter. He hadn’t realized how great that sound was and how much he’d missed it.
    Bryson kept up his riveting tale. “Anyway, on that lonely, cold, wintry