Hey Gladers,

Sorry for bejng so late on the update, but I've finished this story, and I'm only touching some things up. This chapter is shorter but it really gets serious. The truth will be revealed. But it might not be what you were searching for. Enjoy!

Keep running.

~M&M

Chapter 37~ The Plan to Escape and The Steak Knife

Here was my plan of attack. Please pay close attention, because I'm not repeating it. While getting dressed that morning when I woke up in Newt's arms, I devised a meticulous plan. All the while, the burning reminder of Newt's disapproval of what I was doing cut into my chest as a knife would. But I shook off the feeling easily when I recalled Cott's dying words—words she never should've had to say. After drawing it out a bit in my mind and including certain variables, I came up with my final plan. The actual "putting it into action" part went sort of like this:

The cafeteria was quite barren of WICKED officials other than two guards. Usually, I wouldn't have been bothered by this. Of course, this would follow if they didn't have fully loaded guns lowered in their arms. Their faces were grim and flecked with disgust—like we were animals that needed taming. The Gladers were packed together at two tables, something also different than normal. Expressions of fear were darkened on the faces of the girls. Worry cloaked the boys. It didn't help with me stepping out and everyone who hadn't heard what happened the night before jumping up. I walked up, calmed them down, and explained as best I could. Afterwards, I squeezed between Oscar and Newt. Oscar looked tired but managed to ask how I was doing.

"Fine," I claimed, "but I keep going weak and stumbling at moments. I need something to eat badly." When I got a tray and breakfast, I could taste my own hunger in my throat. The agony of yesterday had returned, but when I bit into a green apple, the pungent bitterness of ash flooded my mouth. Hot smoke and grimy flavors choked me until I bit the bullet and swallowed it. Why was this happening to me? What happened while I was gone?

I tried eating again, but nothing tasted any different. Against my stomach's pleads, I ignored the food. My plan wouldn't work if I was weak from hunger. Eat it, Heart. You've been through worse.

And so I got the rest of it down, trying to chew quickly and keep my mind off of the suffocating flavor. Newt and Oscar were chatting over video games they remembered. Everyone was so engrossed in conversations that they failed to notice Dr. Janson who had walked in with a dark smirk on his lips. My eyes followed him to the center of the cafeteria.

"Good morning, everyone. Today, we will be returning your memories to you and will be sorting out your arrangements from here on out. In a half an hour, I'll need everyone sorted in a single-file line, so we can lead you to several rooms. In these rooms, we'll be privately discussing your experience and thoughts concerning the Maze Trials. We promise not to take up too much of your time, so we can return what is rightfully yours. Until this time, enjoy your morning." He walked away through a pair of double doors guarded by the armed men. The new silence didn't last for long and was replaced with the chattering of us remaining. I stayed silent, devising my plan and working in what Janson had said. Inside my lungs, I had the heavy feeling we were never going to get our memories back to begin with.

I walked back to the cafeteria food counter, slipped a metal steak knife in my sleeve while examining a pear for bruises, and took it back to the table with me. Then, I tucked it in my boot and waited, blending in with everyone else.

The cafeteria, droning with voices of unrecognizing teenagers, was nothing compared to the nervous pit at the bottom of my stomach. A clock on the wall was my only reminder that my heart hadn't stopped beating.

"Heart," came a softened voice across from me, "are you okay?" Newt's hand was cupping my own, and I pulled it back into my lap. "Of course."

Footsteps hollowed out our sound and grabbed back our attention. Janson, proud and unescorted, gazed at us as if we were everything he could never be. My guesses…young, justified, and not in cohorts with WICKED. He held a gray clipboard in his arms.

"Through the doors," said he, "We will choose some of you to answer some questions we have. Afterwards, we'll lead you to a lab where we'll be removing the Swipe. It may take up to an hour. Please form a straight single-file line in front of those doors." He pointed to the same doors with the armed men. At first, the Gladers hesitated but did as instructed. The doors opened with the ring of a red buzzer. Janson came to the front of the line, weaving us through hallways. I was doing my best to memorize the directions we were turning. I'd need to escape pretty quickly, and I didn't have time to get lost. We finally came to a stop in front of four doors. We were told to stand against the wall.

"Minho, Tim, Rob, and Mandy." The four stood, Minho tossing Newt and Alby a confused look, then entered their directed doors. The rest of us sat on the floor. Newt, next to me, held my hand in his own. His grip screamed how terrified he really was.

"It's gonna be okay," I whispered in his ear. His breath stilled, and he closed his eyes.

"Why do people say that when they know it's not true?" This comment sent memories from way back through the floodgates. I'd heard it said so many times that the phrase became meaningless. It no longer was something said to calm someone else. It was used to get your mind off the situation instead. And I reacted to the term the same every time. It was never going to be okay no matter how many times I said it to myself or Newt.

I was never a lovey-dovey person. You could tell by my attitude. Newt didn't make me lovey-dovey and neither did my friends. So I wasn't clinging onto Newt in a desperate passion-filled attempt to fled the headquarters while the time passed. Nearly an hour had gone by. Minho and the rest had exited during the first half. More had gone in after. Minho had a look of hollowness. His face was starch white, and his movements were robotic, rigid. Right as he'd come out, Newt stood then grasped his arm. "Mate, you look like you've met death. What'd they bloody do to you in there?" Minho's eyes, slicked with the hollow chill of fear, sliced right through his best friend's.

"They told me the truth," he growled lowly.

I saw it first.

Minho slithered out of Newt's grasp and latched his left hand tight on his arm—the veins in his hand protruded uglily.

"Minho-"

Then, he moved to Newt's ear where he whispered something, his grasp becoming more serious every second. We were holding our breath, terrified Minho would do something hostile. I stood too, ready to shove back Minho, but before I could, the guards were on him. The two were dragging him back behind the door we all entered through. He struggled, fighting against them and hollering. That's when his eyes met mine. He stopped frantically thrashing about.

"Heart," screamed Minho, appearing more distraught than ever, "He's not here! He's lying to you! Heart, he's your-"

By that time, they shoved him out, leaving us alone and me shaking out of my skin. I remained there, staring back at the now closed door and wishing, just wishing, they'd let him finish his words. Two seconds later—not enough time for me to comprehend the events—Janson exited a door as well as everyone else.

"Alright. Our last group consists of Newt, Hilly, Heart, and Clint."

I approached Janson without hesitation and stopped right in front of him.

"What did you do to Minho?" I seethed. He didn't flinch at my words.

"Minho was only told what he deserved to hear. So will you." Janson opened the door behind him. I peered inside and found a small concrete room with a simple table and two metal chairs. A door was across the room. My eyes scanned everywhere for Newt. But the other three doors were closed. Everyone was staring back at me.

He's not here! He's lying to you!

He's not here!

Janson grabbed the back of my blouse and shoved me inside. Minho was never a hostile person. He must've hidden clues in his sudden madness. He told Newt something, and I would've given anything to hear what it was. Out of confusion and overcoming terror, I backed into the center of the room and watched the door bolt shut.

"Sit. Please," Janson crooned. And I did quite willingly. A second more of standing and I might've passed out. As I sat there and mulled over Minho's warning, the answer started to swim out of the haze. Someone hadn't lined up with us before leaving the cafeteria.