Disclaimer: James Dashner owns the characters and the books, I'm just adapting them for myself :)

Rating: T for Glader language, violence, and some disturbing imagery

Author's Note: Sorry I keep forgetting to update! I'm just so irresponsible (and that's why I'm updating today, so I don't forget). And you guys are awesome and your reviews are so kind, so don't apologize for them. Anyway, here's the next chapter. The Spanish in here should be correct, but I'm a little rusty, so forgive me if there's a mistake.

Chapter 44

The next morning was pure hell for Thomas. They were walking, moving on, and he was barely keeping up. Teresa was hanging far back also, her head killing her. Her blue eyes were cloudy and she flinched at even the slightest sound or bright light. They didn't talk as they traveled, but knowing glances passed between them helped them know that they weren't alone in the struggle.

When lunch break came Thomas had to lean on two others to get down without passing out from the pain and when he had to get back up he was in so much pain that spots danced across his eyes. The sitting break had been amazing, and he started the hike with renewed energy.

That was how the next week passed. Thomas felt slightly better, enough that the pain didn't make him want to pass out, and Teresa was recovering quickly. Newt and Minho were worried about them, and Brenda spent a lot of time hiking in the back with Thomas (which Teresa enjoyed considerably less than Thomas did).

Nothing exciting happened, except one of the boys managed to spear a few squirrels and they cooked them and had a decent meal for once.

The forest dropped out from behind them and they continued on. Open plains and scorched patches, hidden oasis' and abandoned farms dotted their journey. All of them trudged on. No one else was lost in the journey, but everyone was growing tired and hungry as the days went by. People were starting to lose hope, which was by far the worst thing possible.

On the twelfth day they stumbled upon a compound. There was a crowd of wailing people around it, about a dozen. Even as they watched the people turned on each other and they tore themselves apart until there was nothing left but dead bodies.

All of the Gladers were sickened, but also relieved, their hope soaring upwards again. They were getting closer to their destination in Alaska. They were closer to civilization and to rest.

A woman, her body covered in sores and her eyes bloodshot started sprinting towards them. She had dark hair and skin, and she was wailing in another language.

"Ayúdame! Ayúdame!" she screamed. Brenda closed her eyes, obviously in pain. She could understand the woman, it seemed.

"What is she saying?" Minho asked her. Brenda shook her head sadly.

"She's calling for help," Brenda replied. She responded back to the woman, "Lo siento, señorita. No podemos te ayudar."

"Por qué no? Conoces WICKED," the woman wailed back.

"What's she saying now?" Thomas asked, pressing closer.

"I told her we can't help her and she asked us why, that we know WICKED." Brenda looked troubled. "Señorita, no te ayudamos. Tenemos nada. Por favor, nos cree!"

"Tuve un hombre," the woman sobbed. "Y los niños. Yo tengo nada ahora. WICKED no es bueno. Corre! Corre lejos y no venga de vuelta!"

Brenda ducked her head, tears dripping from her eyes. Teresa laid a hand on her shoulder. "What did she say?" she asked gently, being more compassionate than Thomas had thought she could be. He had always imagined Teresa as a storm, strong and powerful and harsh, but now he's seeing that she's so much more. Yeah, she's strong and powerful, but she's also kind and gentle and helpful.

And Brenda, too, is more sensitive than Thomas would have thought. She seemed untouchably strong, but the way she's pouring her heart out in her words towards this woman - it's like he's seeing her for the first time.

"She said she had a man, and children. Now they're gone and she has nothing. She's warning us that WICKED isn't good, and that we should run far away and not come back." Brenda wiped her eyes. "Podemos te ayudar?"

The woman shook her head. "No, no puedes. A menos que…ustedes me matan."

Brenda swallowed hard. "Lo quieres?" she asked softly.

Thomas and the others were watching the exchange. They weren't sure what the woman was saying, and only Brenda spoke Spanish. Whatever was being said was obviously extremely depressing.

Then the woman nodded, and her eyes cleared for a moment. Brenda breathed deeply.

"Lo siento," she said quietly as she drew her knife and threw it, hard, at the woman. The woman didn't flinch, just watched as the knife thudded into her chest and she fell. Brenda didn't flinch either, and her eyes gained a hard, steely look. It was the same look that Teresa had on her face when WICKED forced her to betray Thomas. The look of regret without regretting. The look of a warrior.

"Let's go." Her voice was final. Minho didn't object. He waved the group on and they walked past the bleeding corpse. Brenda was the last to move, her eyes locked on the woman. Thomas finally touched her arm and pulled her away.

She didn't speak again.


When everyone except the night watch was asleep, Thomas painfully crawled over to where Brenda was sitting, far away from the others. For a moment he just sat by her in silence, letting her get used to his company.

"I had to do it," Brenda whispered. Her eyes were wide and staring straight ahead. "She asked me to. She was going to die anyway. I saved her from suffering more."

"I know how you feel," Thomas replied. He could remember it all too well. "Annie…she begged me to do the same. I shot her." The words flowed smoother than he thought they would. "You won't ever get over it. I know."

Brenda shifted her gaze to him, sympathy in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I know you don't want pity, but I'm sorry." She paused. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

Because they would think I betrayed them. Because the pain was too fresh. Because they wouldn't understand. "It's complicated," he replied.

She nodded. "It's just so sad. Everyone would rather die than live. Soon there'll be no one left in the world. All of this will be for nothing. We've only prolonged the inevitable fate of humanity."

"And what is that fate?" Thomas asked, curious to what she had to say on the matter, even though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

"Extinction." Brenda let the word hang in the air. "Humans are destructive. We have advanced technology but we tear each other and the world up for it. We're driven by our desires and we fear death. If only we didn't keep time then perhaps we wouldn't fear how short our lives are. Animals live without all the information and without fear of time, and they're a lot happier than most humans. Maybe we should learn from them."

Thomas thought about that. "We should trade information for a happier life?"

"Yes. We should let things happen naturally. The more humans evolve the more our lives are shortened. There was a time when humans lived hundreds of years, and before the sun flares the average life expectancy was dancing between eighty and ninety. We're on a downhill spiral, Thomas."

"That makes a little sense," he admitted. "But there's nothing we can do now. All the damage has already been done. We can't go back in time."

"No, we can't," Brenda said wistfully. She stared at the dying fire and at the teens sleeping around it. "Thanks, Thomas."

"Thank you, Brenda."

That was all it took. Suddenly Thomas and Brenda were kissing. Something warm lit up in him. This wasn't the time nor place to be in love, but she was attractive in many ways, and they were teenagers.

Thomas pulled away, his ribs aching. Brenda was breathing hard. "Sorry," she said. She didn't sound sincere, though. Thomas didn't regret the kiss, either, though he had a fleeting thought of how this relationship was betraying Teresa. Why, he had no idea, because it wasn't like they were together or anything, but he knew she loved him.

It was a mess, his life. He liked Brenda and he liked Teresa, and they both liked him, but he couldn't be with one without feeling like he was cheating on the other. He missed the days in the Maze when he didn't have to worry about romance, and when he didn't have to worry about being betrayed or worn down from sheer exhaustion. And this kind of thinking isn't helping him at all.

So he didn't reply to Brenda. He simply sat there and let his thoughts consume him until his eyes drooped and fell shut. His mind was completely overloaded by everything. Maybe he'd figure things out in the morning. Probably not, but it was a comforting thought.