Free The Death Cure by James Dashner

any more ammunition!”
    Minho let one last grenade fly, but then they all stood and waited for some of the energy to die down so they could safely enter the room.
    Thomas turned to Brenda, speaking loudly to be heard over the noise. “We’re a little short on memories. Do you know anything that’ll help us? Where is everyone? Why the alarm?”
    She shook her head. “I have to be honest—something definitely feels off.”
    “I bet this is another one of their bloody tests!” Newt yelled. “All of this is meant to happen and we’re being analyzed all over again.”
    Thomas could barely hear himself think, and Newt wasn’t helping.
    He held his Launcher up and walked through the doorway. He wanted to get somewhere safer before the light from the grenade blasts disappeared entirely. From the shallow pool of his few returned memories, he knew he’d grown up in this place—he just wished he could remember the layout. He realized again how important Brenda was to their freedom. Jorge, too—if he was willing to fly them out of there.
    The alarm stopped.
    “What—” Thomas had started too loud, and quieted himself. “What now?”
    “They probably got sick of their ears bleeding from the noise,” Minho answered. “Just because they turned it off doesn’t mean anything.”
    The glow from the electric bolts had disappeared, but the room on this side of the doorway had emergency lights that cast everything in a red haze. They stood in a large reception area with couches and chairs and a couple of desks. Nobody was in sight.
    “I’ve never seen one person in these waiting rooms,” Thomas said, the space suddenly familiar. “The whole place is empty and creepy.”
    “It’s been a long time since they allowed visitors here, I’m sure,” Brenda responded.
    “What’s next, Tommy?” Newt asked. “We can’t just stand here all day.”
    Thomas thought for a second. They had to find their friends, but ensuring that they had a way out seemed the first priority.
    “Okay,” he said. “Brenda, we really need your help. We need to get to the hangar and find Jorge, get him prepping a Berg. Newt and Minho—you guys can stay with him for backup and Brenda and I will search the place for our friends. Brenda—do you know where we can stock up on weapons?”
    “Weapons depot’s on the way to the hangar,” Brenda said. “But it’s probably guarded.”
    “We’ve seen worse,” Minho offered. “We’ll start firing till they drop or we drop.”
    “We’ll cut through ’em all,” Newt added, almost with a growl. “Every last one of those buggers.”
    Brenda pointed down one of two hallways that branched off the reception room. “It’s that way.”
    Brenda led Thomas and his friends through turn after turn, the dull red emergency beacons lighting the way. They met no resistance, though every so often a beetle blade skittered by, click-clacking across the floor as it scurried along. Minho tried firing a shot at one of them, missing badly and almost scorching Newt, who yelped and wanted to fire back, judging by the look on his face.
    After a good fifteen minutes of jogging, they reached the weapons depot. Thomas stopped in the hallway, surprised to find the door swung wide open. From what he could see, the shelves inside seemed fully stocked.
    “That does it,” Minho said. “No more doubt.”
    Thomas knew exactly what he meant. He’d been through too much not to. “Someone’s setting us up,” he muttered.
    “Has to be,” Minho added. “Everyone suddenly disappears, doors are unlocked, weapons sitting here for us. And they’re obviously observing us through those shuck beetle blades.”
    “Definitely fishy,” Brenda added.
    At her voice, Minho turned on her. “How do we know
you’re
not in on it?” he demanded.
    She answered in a weary voice. “All I can say is that I swear I’m not. I have no idea what’s happening.”
    Thomas hated to admit it, but what Newt had hinted at earlier—that this