ACT II SCENE X
RHESUS

THE FIRST TIME SHE laid her eyes on him, she knew they would never get along. His entire body was covered in bruises and bandages, even his face had them. When he saw her, he called her ugly and pinched her painfully on the arm.

The second time she went to visit him, she cried on the plane and couldn't believe her parents were forcing her to go with them. He gave her a flower when he saw her, a yellow daisy, but she knew it was only because his parents made him do it. The next day, he stole her favourite toy and broke it.

Their parents brought them on a summer holiday together to somewhere with a large lake. She pushed him in after he dropped a frog down the back of her shirt.

When they met again the following year, he kissed her on the lips and she emptied her glass of apple juice on his head.

After that, he wrote their names together on a piece of paper and she cut it out into a heart.

Then the world was gone.

"You died."

Cassandra blinked her eyes closed and looked back at Minho's dust stained face. She brushed her fingers across it, smudging more dirt onto his cheek and felt her heart ache at the anguish behind his words. Then she leaned her head against his shoulder and fell asleep from fatigue.

She woke up curled against him under a sheet despite the sweltering heat that surrounded them on all sides. A thin layer of perspiration was already coating their skin and she felt his thumb brush against the side of her face.

"Hey," he whispered, gazing at her with weary eyes.

"Hey," she smiled back, her heart swelling at the sight of him.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah," she tried to keep her eyelids open. "You?"

"I am now," he told her and leaned in to kiss her lips softly. It was different from the usual heated way he kissed her that sent sparks igniting in every atom of her being; but sad and forlorn, like the empty plains that stretched out around them.

She pulled away and stroked his face. her voice coming out shaky. "Minho, I'm sorry."

He shushed her gently. "There's nothing for you to apologise for."

But she felt like there was, everything was her fault. The intrusively irrational thought came out of nowhere, startling her briefly. Minho pressed his lips against hers again, slow and melancholic, like he was trying to engrave it to memory. It made her chest hurt; her heart felt like it was going to fracture into two.

She sorely wanted to ask him why he was acting this way, what made him change from the passionate boy that never hesitated to take what he wanted. But she was afraid; she didn't want whatever it was that happened to happen again. The only thing she could do was to hold him close to her and hope that it would go away soon.

"Minho, I trust you," she murmured and he stroked her hair. "Whatever it is, I trust you."

She felt his sigh against her skin and he kissed her again, like he was telling himself that it was going to be okay.

"Promise you won't leave me," he whispered.

"Never," she shook her head earnestly, drawing him into her arms. "I would never."

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he pressed his cheek against hers.

"Me neither," she looked at him, willing him to believe her implicitly. "I care about you more than anything."

"Me too, Cassie..." he ran his fingers gently through her tangled hair, eyes dark and intent. "Me too."

This time when he locked lips with her, it was his usual breathtaking kiss and she pressed herself against him to deepen it even further. She wanted to dispel whatever dark thoughts he may have had previously, to take them away like the blackouts she had that made her forget so much. Minho, giving her that crooked smirk of his, eyes sparkling with wit, that was how she always wanted him to be.

He pulled away and he was smiling now, gripping the edge of the sheet over them.

"You ready?" he asked and she groaned.

The Scorch and their mission was the farthest thing from her mind right then, but she could feel the heat beating down on them and knew that it was already a few hours since the break of dawn. She really didn't want to go back out there but she knew that they had to. Sighing, she nodded her head begrudgingly and he gave one more peck on the lips before ripping the sheet off.

They were back in hell.

Cassandra squinted her eyes and turned, looking around the flat terrain. A few of the Gladers were already up, having breakfast, and a few others were still lying on the ground. Minho stood up and clapped his hands to rouse them back to life.

"Okay, guys, whoever hasn't eaten, do it now," he called. "We're heading back out there right after everyone's done."

She sat up and pulled their pack towards them as Minho rejoined her on the ground. They pulled out a couple of fruits; they were already starting to turn soft from the heat so they had to consume them quickly. The juice quenched the aching thirst in her throat and she only thought about it just then that they should have saved the dry food for later. That was such a bad mistake; she'd seen a few of the boys snacking on them yesterday. It could have saved them more water.

A jolt suddenly ran through her body and she stiffened as a whisper echoed in her head.

"Why didn't you die?!" the voice hissed furiously. "Why won't you just die?!"

She buried her face in her hands and clenched her teeth.

"Cassie? Are you okay?" Minho asked and there was panic underneath his concern.

"I'm fine, it's just the sun," she said, trying to make her voice sound as normal as possible. "I'll feel better in a minute."

"Okay," he returned with some relief, but she knew he was watching her.

"Just die!" the voice screamed and she dug her fingers into her scalp.

"Leave me alone!" she yelled back. "Get out of my head! Get out! Get out! Get out!"

"I'll kill you. I swear I will, I'll kill you."

She took a deep shuddering breath and tried to block the voice out. Her brain started to hurt, a deep ache spreading from the front of her brain.

"Cass?" Thomas was calling in her mind and his voice was laced with fear. "What was that? Who was that?"

She looked up and saw him staring at her with wide eyes full of apprehension from the other side of the group. Her eyes shut close again as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I don't know," she replied. "You could hear that?"

"Yeah, as clear as day," he told her and she immediately scanned the group for the other boy.

Aris didn't seem like he had heard too as he was enjoying his pear next to Greg. That was so bizarre and annoying at the same time. She shook her head, feeling dizzy as the pain persisted. Minho took her wrist to lower her hand and she turned her pained eyes up to him.

"You are not okay," he stated. "What's wrong?"

Sweat was already starting to pour down her temple and she wiped it away with her other hand. She hesitated to tell him, not wanting him to worry about her any more than was necessary. But a mysterious voice inside her head just told her to die and threatened her life. Minho would be furious from being kept in the dark about that. She bit her lip and tried to plead him with her eyes.

"Don't freak out, okay?" she started.

"Cassie, what's wrong?" he repeated the question.

She took a deep breath and expelled it shakily. "The voice in my head wants to kill me."

"The what wants to what?" he frowned.

"I heard it too," Thomas suddenly dropped down next to them and Minho turned to stare at him incredulously.

"You can hear everything that goes through her head now?" he asked almost angrily.

"No, it was a voice as in the telepathy thing," the boy shrank away from the Runner's wrath. "I still can't read people's thoughts. Although I probably don't need it to know that you look like you wanna kill me. Chill out, Minho."

"No, there is no chill, Thomas," Minho snapped. "We're in the middle of a freaking desert."

"Oh, yeah."

"Guys, shut up, my head hurts," Cassandra groaned.

"Why is there a secret gathering without me?" Newt came over and joined them in a small circle.

"Someone just threatened to kill Cass," Thomas immediately told him.

"Thomas, you have the biggest shucking mouth I have ever known," she growled at him.

"You can't keep this to yourself," he told her. "You almost died yesterday, well technically you did and came back to life, and now someone actually wants you dead. This isn't a coincidence- plus, what does your tattoo say?"

Her eyes flicked up to glare at him menacingly before turning to Minho with agitated worry. One of the things she adored about him was his protective streak and he was definitely not going to let this go. She didn't want to have to drop another burden on his shoulders, he had enough responsibility leading the group and getting them through this whole mess alive.

"It's just a voice," she said quickly. "It can make all the threats it wants, but it can't hurt me."

"But you don't know where that voice is coming from," Thomas shot back. "Maybe it's from WICKED's headquarters, watching us. Controlling us."

"Shut up, Thomas," she grumbled angrily.

"He's right," Minho turned to her with a hard gaze. "We need to be careful. You need to be careful, Cassie. They can manipulate us anytime; you heard what that Rat Man said."

She fingered a loose thread on her pants and sighed. "I know, I will."

"Did you recognise who the shank was though?" Newt asked.

Cassandra blinked and paused as she realised that she did. Her eyes widened and she turned to them with an ashen expression.

"It's the same one that told me I was a mistake," she said.

Minho swore under his breath beside her and Thomas looked a little confused.

"Well, looks like we have a motive," Newt said.

"That doesn't shucking help," Minho exclaimed.

"It told you that you were a mistake?" Thomas frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Thomas, if I knew the answer to that, we wouldn't be freaking out over it," she told him. "I hadn't heard it for a while so I thought it was just WICKED trying to get into my head, part of a Variable or something."

"But it's not..." he said slowly. "Someone actually wants you dead."

Minho suddenly stood up, rearranging their pack and whipping out the sheet.

"We need to go," he told them then raised his voice. "Everyone, pack up and let's go!"

They scrambled to get up and Cassandra shot the two other boys a look. "Don't tell anyone else," she said. "I don't want them to worry about a potential murderer on the loose."

"Yeah, we won't," Newt said and she shot a glance at Thomas.

"Thomas."

"Okay, I won't," he eyed her with concern. "But you need to be extra careful."

"Sure, fine, thanks," she muttered. "C'mon."

There was a flurry of activity around them as everyone got ready and then they were starting off again in the direction of the town. It was a lot closer now and she hoped that they'd be able to reach it by nightfall.

Their dwindling supplies was noticeable as they trudged on, taking a few breaks in between. Less people had to walk in pairs and more sheets were wrapped around sweaty bedraggled bodies. Winston seemed to be doing better now, but she didn't know how long they'd be able to last with so little water. This was only the second day.

She had gone up to Winston during one of their breaks and he told her, almost deliriously, about all the good times they had back in the Glade. It made her raise an eyebrow and look to Jack who revealed that it's been all he talked about since. Cassandra frowned in concern before returning to her spot.

Minho held an arm around her whenever he could or gripped her wrist firmly in his hand, as if something might steal her away at a moment's notice. She was right about that protective streak.

The sun started to dip towards the horizon and they wouldn't be able to reach the town that day. It was so close though; she was sure that if they walked for two or three more hours maybe-

Laughter.

She thought she heard it then, a child laughing, and her skin rose with goose bumps. A sudden gust of wind blew past them, sending her hair flying in all directions and it was like it was carrying the sound along with it.

Her breath caught in her throat and she looked around at the others, then to Minho. Nobody seemed to have noticed it, not even Thomas. Was it just her imagination?

"Soyun."

She hugged herself and felt her heart race at the haunting sound.

It was just her imagination, she told herself. She was just imagining it.

"Where are we going?" it was definitely a child's voice, a boy.

"Just over to the hill there, look. We'll get a better view of the place," came a young girl's reply.

It was like the Scorch was bringing her memories to life and she swallowed. She recognised the voices were Minho and herself when they were young. Another memory, perhaps, slipping through to her consciousness.

Soyun.

That used to be her name.

Minho stopped next to her and she realised that night had fallen on them. The wind whipped around them strongly now, sending sheets fluttering in the air, and he was stopping them to get some more rest. She turned to look at the buildings and the flashes of swaying fire in the distance. Rest, and then they'd make the last stretch to the town.

When Minho wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her away to sleep, she didn't protest.

Her dreams that night were swirls of chaos and confusion. She was running, but she had no idea from what. There was just a cold sick feeling of urgency in her gut as her feet tore against the ground. A black cloud shrouded her, following her, and she reached out to grab an outstretched hand.

"RUN! DON'T LOOK BACK! JUST RUN!"

Cassandra shot up from the ground and her eyelids flew open just in time to catch her sheet from floating away. Gales of wind blustered around them and the sky hung darkly overhead. She looked around in bewilderment, momentarily lost in blind panic, and found that she was the only one to have woken up. Her hair whipped all around her face, fluttering in a wild frenzy about her head.

Dust and loose dirt billowed about in puffs of solid smoke, making her squint and shield her eyes with an arm. Her heart thudded against her chest as she remembered a fact about desert storms and flash floods.

"Minho," she bent down to shake him.

He woke almost immediately and looked at her with wide eyes. A layer of grime covered half his face and he rubbed it away with his sleeve. He sat up and looked around with the same bewilderment that she did before, then towards the town in the distance.

The squall seemed to have picked up its pace at finding them awake and she had to grip the sheet tightly in her hands to keep it from escaping. It roared against her ears, making it difficult to make any other sounds out.

"I think we need to go!" she shouted to him and he nodded.

"Let's get them up!" he yelled back. "Have something quick to eat!"

Cassandra stood up and tied her sheet tightly around her waist then rummaged through her pack. She had gotten Frypan to rearrange the supplies again and most of the quick perishables had been consumed. There were only two apples left with all the granola bars and biscuits.

She handed a bar to Minho and quickly wedged one between her teeth as she jogged over to wake Newt. They went around, trying to get the others to rise as well and she quickly handed food to them to save time shouting out instructions.

Thomas was the last to get up, rubbing his dirt-encrusted face, and Minho headed over to him. She picked up her spear and stayed next to Newt as he finished up his meagre breakfast. When everyone was ready to go, they set off for the town that was finally within their reach.

A couple of miles before the first buildings, they spotted an old withered man wrapped up in blankets lying on the ground. She thought he must be a Crank, sores and scabs decorated his dark cracked skin. But he was staring emptily up at the sky as if waiting for some kind of deliverance and she gripped her spear tightly in her hand.

"Hey! Old man!" Minho shouted once they got near enough. "What're you doing out here?"

It didn't seem like he had heard him, or even noticed their group's approach. She frowned agitatedly. "You think this was the old man the Cranks were warning us about earlier? Doesn't look that mean to me."

Thomas nudged past them and went down on his knees next to the man. He waved his hand in front of the guy's face and there was a slow blinking response.

"This guy's a bloody gold mine if we can get him to tell us stuff about the city," Newt said loudly as he knelt down next to Thomas. "Looks harmless, probably knows what to expect when we go in there."

"Yeah, but he doesn't seem to be able to hear us," Thomas gestured. "Much less have a conversation."

"Keep trying," Minho told him. "You're officially our foreign ambassador, Thomas. Get the dude to open up and tell us about the good ol' days."

Thomas moved closer and bent down close to the man's head. "Sir? We really need your help. We need you to tell us if it's safe to go inside the city. We can carry you if you need help yourself. Sir? Sir!"

Cassandra crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently.

"Look, I don't think he's even lucid enough to give us anything," she said.

Then the man's eyes slowly shifted to the side, soulless pits latching onto Thomas' face. He opened his mouth and a small cough grounded out. The boy started hopefully.

"My name is Thomas! These are my friends. We've been walking through the desert for a couple of days now, and we need water and food. What do you-"

The old man's eyes started to flick back and forth between them with slight panic.

"It's okay, we won't hurt you," Thomas quickly said as soothingly as he could. "We're the good guys. But we'd really appreciate it if-"

Suddenly, a wrinkled hand shot out from underneath the blankets and clenched tightly around the boy's arm. Cassandra pointed the tip of her spear down in a knee-jerk reaction and Minho grabbed her before she could accidentally pierce the man's face.

"Whoa, Cassie, hold on!" he exclaimed in surprise.

"Hey! Let go of me!" Thomas yelled, struggling to free his arm, but it was like the man was holding him with an iron brace.

His mouth opened again and there was a rasping sound like sandpaper grinding against each other as he tried to speak.

"What'd you say?" Thomas shouted, leaning in once more as he relaxed. Again, the man tried to tell them something. "One more time!"

Then the man shot up from the ground, eyes opening wide until his pupils were little round dots against bulging white. His body started swaying back and forth like he was possessed, shouting a single word repeatedly with an incredibly frightening fervour.

"Storm! Storm! Storm!"

And the air bellowed around them, sending unsuspecting sheets soaring into the black sky.