Chapter fifty one

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"Hello, everybody,"  said a new woman at The Right Arm meeting.

As soon as she walked in, Thomas had a feeling he knew her from somewhere but couldn't quite remember where that was . . .

It had been a few days since Thomas joined The Right Arm. In that time, the only thing the Gladers had done was clean.

And clean.

And clean some more.

It had been so boring, he was reconsidering staying with The Right Arm. He might quit if that's all they were going to do.

But maybe something would be different since the familiar woman was there. He just hoped they wouldn't be attacked by WCKD or anything.

Thomas almost liked cleaning better.

"I'm going to be running this class while Vince is busy," the woman continued, interrupting Thomas' thoughts. "But usually I'll just be the doctor. If any of the addicted kids need medical attention, that's where I come in." She gave them all nice smiles in turn. "And I'd like to consider us as friends so you may call me Mary."

Thomas slapped his head. "Right!" That's where he knew her from. The dreams.

Then he noticed everybody staring at him.

Oops.

He'd said that out loud.

"Uh, I mean," Thomas stuttered, ignoring Minho's teasing smirk and Newt's suppressed giggle. "I thought I recognized you from somewhere. I couldn't remember until I heard your name."

Please don't ask me where I know you from. Please don't ask me where I know you from. Please don't ask me where I know you from, Thomas begged.

Mary nodded slowly, a small smile on her face. "That's right. Hello, Thomas."

"What?" Thomas asked, confused. "You know me?" He was pretty sure he had not met this woman outside of his dreams.

"Interesting," she said, scrunching her eyebrows. "But understandable. I'm surprised you remembered me at all. I was your doctor when you were very young, Thomas."

"Oh, yeah,"  Thomas said, not remembering any of that in the least. He was just glad it matched up with his dreams and covered his embarrassment. "Right. That's where I remember you from. My mom probably mentioned you or something."

He kicked Minho under the table to get him to stop laughing. His friend thankfully did but not before kicking Thomas back.

"Anyway," Mary continued, giving Thomas one last smile. "For my first day, Vince and I have planned a surprise. Come with me." She got up and motioned for the Gladers to follow.

She led them outside to the parking lot and towards a large white van. She opened the door.

"After you get buckled, you'll find a pile of black hoods in the corner. Put them on then I'll drive you to the secret location. There, we'll meet up Vince."

Minho started to protest, saying something about kidnapping, but Thomas shushed him.

"Don't you remember this?" Thomas whispered as the others started climbing in. "It was in the dreams."

"In the dreams we were being kidnapped," Minho shot back.

"For our protection," he reminded. "Seriously, Minho. We'll be okay."

"Fine." Minho grumbled, climbing in the car.

Thomas climbed in after him, sitting in the back followed by Newt. Minho passed out the black hoods, muttering. "If she ends up kidnapping us, blame Thomas."

Thomas made sure Minho saw him rolling his eyes before slipping the hood over his head.

A few seconds later, Mary started the car and they were off.

Thomas immediately started feeling sick. He'd forgotten about that part in the dreams. He doesn't usually get car sickness, but having the hood on made it much worse.

He groaned as they hit a dent in the road.

"You okay, Tommy?" Newt asked, his voice slightly muffled.

"Just a little nauseous," Thomas admitted, resting a hand across his stomach.

"Gross," Minho said. He pushed Thomas away from him. "Face that way. I don't care to have vomit on me while I'm being kidnapped."

"Thanks."

"Just ignore him, Tommy," Newt told him, rubbing his back. "Deep breaths. You'll be alright."

"Thanks, Newt," Thomas said sincerely, leaning into his touch. He started to feel better after that.

A few minutes later, Mary stopped the car.

"Alright," she said, opening her door. "You can take your blindfolds off once you get out."

Thomas did as she said and found himself at a church.

That caught him off guard.

He'd never been to a church or done anything religious. Not even in his dreams.

"What are we doing here?" Thomas asked, looking up at the small building.

"Vince finally set up the support group!" Mary said happily, gesturing towards the doors. "We're meeting the addicts for the first time. And please try to refrain from calling them cranks."

Minho gave Thomas a smirk. He knew the name was going to stick for a long time.

But Thomas wasn't really worried about that. He was concerned about seeing the cranks. The only other interaction he had with cranks in Phase Two was with the full gone cranks. The time he nearly died and Brenda got infected.

He shuddered at the thought of Brenda turning.

"This is such a bad idea," Newt muttered as they walked inside.

"Don't worry," Thomas whispered. "You'll be fine. The only people who have to worry about cranks for now is me and Brenda."

"I know," Newt whispered back. "But that doesn't make this any less of a bad idea."

"Good point. Just keep Brenda away from me."

"I'll try."

The Gladers, plus Mary, walked into a small room near the back of the church.

Inside, chairs were arranged in a circle. Vince sat at one end and half a dozen cranks slouched in the other side.

They were, by far, the worst Thomas had ever seen.

The worst part was that they didn't look like addicts, at least not like the ones Thomas saw at school. These cranks were adults. They were all scrawny but he could tell they were strong.

And they just looked mad.

Thomas and the other Gladers took their seats (as far away from the cranks as they could manage) as Vince greeted them, saying how happy he was that they were finally able to help others.

After the introductions, Thomas looked up from his seat to see one crank staring right at him with a menacing glare.

Then she broke out in a crazed smile which was even worse then the glare.

He looked down again.

"This is a terrible idea." Thomas muttered.

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