The Gathering did not go well.

Newt was clearly tight-lipped with disapproval or some such similar emotion, something Hedy found mildly irritating and profoundly surprising, and told him so with her eyes. Minho was clearly struggling with the complexity of the issue, and Zora jibed that she'd explain to him how babies were made later, sarcastically mentioning the birds and the bees. A few had laughed at that, to Minho's intense displeasure.

Gally looked as though he'd swallowed nails, an expression she couldn't quite decipher, but she was was certain of his distaste. He'd been particularly moody lately, though she couldn't find it within her to condemn him. He'd been friends with Ben.

Tim looked a little shocked, but Clint and Jeff seemed utterly terrified by the idea. All of the Gladers wore a distinctly unique expression as they filed out of the meeting room. Sure, it had likely been a little embarrassing for Zora, laying out her sex life for fourteen-year-olds to snigger at, but they needed to be prepared for a future with a child. Zora wanted to keep the baby, and that meant in just a few short months, a baby would be in the world. Their world. She stood proudly, her expression daring anyone to voice their displeasure at her announcement.

Saph was positively over the moon with impractical delight and unwavering support; Laverne, a little morose from being told secondhand; Meg and Rosie were vehemently against the idea of a child; Marie, still confused at the logistics; but Teresa, the newbie, really intrigued Hedy.

Beautiful even in trauma, the ethereal young woman seemed to be struggling, feeling a little nervous, most likely, or guilty. Her serene face had transformed at the news, morphing into something no less beautiful but far more pained. Hedy took her aside afterwards, and in her usual, no-nonsense manner, told her: "You have nothing to feel bad about."

The impossibly enormous blue eyes seemed to widen further into two perfect circles. "Well, except the injuries and the nightmares, right?"

Her rancor wasn't lost on Hedy. Indeed, if anything she appreciated it. "Your injuries were minor, and you have the full support of every person in this Glade to make an emotional recovery. I'm talking about Ben. You have no reason to feel guilty for the Banishment."

"What makes you think I feel guilty?" Teresa shot back, her original reticence utterly lost. If anything, she seemed to be at home in the Glade in a way even the Firsts did not quite feel. It was not quite arrogance, though it could easily be mistaken as such. If Hedy didn't know any better, she'd think that Teresa had been here before. She had the athleticism of a Runner and the striking ingenius of something Hedy had yet to come across. And she'd come with that note.

"It's my business to know how the Gladers are feeling. It's not your fault Zora's kid won't have a father."

"Well, if I didn't feel like that before, I sure do now." Teresa rolled her eyes. "You're really bad at this."

"I don't think that's it at all," Hedy deadpanned, knowing her nurturing instincts were rather lacking. "I think we're pretty similar. I can read you even better than most."

The two girls did not blink for a moment, their gaze almost tangible, a line connecting them. There seemed to be something between them that neither could quite explain. Teresa stood grounded, her stiff posture in contrast to her otherworldly beauty. Hedy stood, far more relaxed, ready to be blown over by a strong enough wind. But there would be no wind, and her muscles moved as easily and sinuously as a river.

There was something peaceful in no longer being the crown beauty of the Glade, Hedy mused as she watched Teresa watch her. She found that she felt very plain in comparison to the Newbie, and it was comforting. For so long, she'd been "Gorgeous". Even Laverne had not been able to truly claim dominion over Hedy in that regard. It was freeing to hand over her crown to the younger girl. Laverne had never felt imprisoned by beauty the way Hedy had; indeed, it was part of her charm. She seemed to glow with gentle strength. If Laverne was a doe, Teresa was was a dove. Hedy was a mountain lion.

"What makes you think that?" Teresa asked daringly. Rarely did Gladers question or nitpick Hedy. It was likely Zora and Minho could find a new ally in this girl, though she lacked the aggressive nature needed to join in Saph's little band of merry mischief-makers.

"You're smart," Hedy began, staring, not at Teresa's undeniably captivating face, but deeply into her eyes, trying to capture a glimpse of the soul that rested just beyond: "You're maybe the smartest person here. You're confident. You're more confident than any of the Firsts. And you're keeping to yourself. You don't have that air of dejected loneliness a regular kid has. There's something else going on here. I need to know what that is." Teresa's eyes narrowed at that, black brows rising up in obviously false indignance. There was fear in her eyes, Hedy decided. Not terror. Panic. "And you came up with that note. What do you know?"

Stealing a glance around the Glade, making sure nobody else was within earshot, Teresa stepped closer to Hedy, whispering: "Sometimes… I hear a voice in my head. A boy. And I've seen flashes of things that once were. And I see the Maze in my dreams, more and more often."

Hedy's heart burst within her chest, hammering wildly. She felt her face go red with excitement and nervousness and panic and fear and confusion and bewildered awe, but Teresa could not see just how powerful an effect her words had on the Glade's Leader. "I know it sounds… jacked, but I mean it. The voice is real. I think his name… is Thomas. And he cares about me. I can tell."

"Are you... absolutely certain?" Hedy asked, trying to keep her voice level. She would not insult Teresa's intelligence nor her maturity by calling her crazy or implying she was lying.

Teresa hesitated. "I've been mulling over this for a few days… and I think I can get us out of the Maze."

Hedy froze. Teresa was not fully cognizant of the impact her words would have on the Leader, and was shocked to see tears welling in her eyes.

"Was... was Ben right?" she asked Teresa quietly, stunning her into silence.

"I don't know," Teresa answered, breaking eye contact and looking at her feet, too consumed by whatever emotion she was feeling to continue looking at Hedy. "Maybe he was. I don't know enough to debate philosophy here. I don't know if maybe I deserved what he was trying to do to me. I don't know if his memories were real, or if mine are. But I dream about the Maze. Things I shouldn't know. I remember a bed, computers. I remember codes. I think… nevermind."

Teresa's confession that perhaps she had helped build the Maze that trapped them would be too much. The warning Thomas gave her reaffirmed her assumption. Perhaps another time, another conversation. Not at this moment.

"We'll grab the Runners and put them in the Map Room." Hedy decided. "This should be a full-fledged meeting."

"How many maps do you have?"

"Hundreds of each section of the Maze. They rotate; the labyrinth changes every day, in a pattern."

"Six day cycles, right?"

Speechless, Hedy nodded. Regardless of circumstance, Teresa was possibly their last chance to figure out what was going on and how they could escape.

A change came over Teresa, and she seemed to stand straighter, no longer shorter or smaller than Hedy. The two girls strode purposefully to the Kitchen, where Teresa sweetly wheedled wax paper from Saph, to Laverne's impressed glee and Zora's amusement.

"She's a possessive shank," Laverne told Teresa, grinning. "'Least when it comes to wax paper. She'd sell her soul for another roll."

Laverne exited with them, and she and Teresa entered the Map Room. Nearby, Marie and Jack were sitting with Tim, probably discussing Zora, but a silent gaze from Hedy and a flick of her brows sent them running to the Maze Room without so much as a by-your-leave to Tim. Though she did not know them as well as she knew some, she trusted those two, and they had the same kind of silent rapport and communication with her as they did with Minho, had with Laverne, and once had with Maya. For his part, Tim simply nodded at her and asked no questions. She trusted him, but this was not his battle, and he understood that.

A few more feet and she found Newt and Minho sitting with Meg and Jeff, snacking on something Minho had probably stolen from Saph, with the same charming pleads Teresa had used a moment ago. One look and they stood too, even Minho not questioning her. His ability to transform from idiot jester to serious Keeper was unparalleled, and she was grateful for his seamless transition.

"There's no way," Jack exhaled, his voice barely audible as they entered the hut.

"'She's the last one, ever'," Teresa reminded him sharply. "I'm special, dude. You can believe it or not."

Scoffing at her vanity, Marie queried: "Why's she in the Map Room?" she looked up at Hedy, confused and a little frightened by the strange turn of events. "Runners only, I thought."

"Everyone here is going to be a Runner soon," Teresa responded darkly, scribbling and overlaying dozens of maps over one another, tracing their outlines one by one, her hand as steady as Minho's.

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" Newt demanded, more confused than impassioned by the cryptic remarks, as disoriented by Teresa's presence as Marie and still absorbing Zora's announcement.

"You've got to be kidding me," Minho breathed, ignoring all of them, as if none of them in the room existed except for Teresa. He stared at her, drinking her in, her beauty, the special circumstances surrounding her appearance, the work she did in the shadows of the Map Room… It irritated her that he was so enamored of the Newbie. It wasn't like him to lose focus during such an important moment. Even if he were focusing, she didn't like what he was focusing on.

Pushing that intrusive thought away, she waited. Everyone else waited. For once, the attention in the room was not on her, not about her choices or her presence. It was slightly discomfiting, though a little fascinating. Was this how people looked at her, how she was perceived? Strangely purposeful, with enough confidence to bluff past any argument?

"Float?" Laverne frowned at the word Teresa had drawn from her scribbles.

"There's five more words where that came from," Teresa answered. "It's a message from the creators of the Maze."

"A message about what?" Jack wondered, stepping forward and staring at Teresa's handiwork.

"It's the way out," Teresa answered, as if it were obvious. "The Maze itself is unsolvable; I'm sure you guys figured that out a while ago. The maps, if you use this wax paper over them and follow the day pattern, spell out a word."

"Like a password?"

"Like a couple passwords," Teresa sighed, moving on already, but Minho stopped her, taking her tools and staring at them in disbelief. This was a tactic they never would've come up with, not in four years or four dozen. It was so… contrary. Ridiculously specific. Overlaying maps to create vocabulary words? It was foolish and arbitrary and impossible.

"Unsolvable?" he stared at Teresa almost as coldly as Ben had. Stepping closer to him, Hedy tried to put herself in his line of sight, as if to distract him. It worked, if only slightly. He looked down at her, frowning: "Dude, this is freaking bullshit!" he cried out, looking more tired and defeated than she'd ever seen this indomitable man-child with his endless reserve of energy and logic and laughter. He slumped down in a chair, putting his face between his hands.

"Are you surprised?" Newt shook his head. "Quite a shocker if you've been in denial for buggin' three years, Minny, and I know you haven't. You didn't fail. Nobody did. T'was an impossible task, obviously."

"How does she even know all this?" Laverne wanted to know. "She could be making this up. How can we trust her?"

"Well, speaking about me like I'm not in the room is a great start to figuring out my motives," Teresa snapped at the girl she'd been so friendly with just hours ago. "I have… some memories."

"Memories?" Jack inhaled the word, burping from intake of breath halfway through the word. "Like… real ones?" He eyed her mistrustfully, in exactly the way Teresa had feared they would. As if she were an alien, other than them. With that thought, Hedy wondered if perhaps Teresa saw her beauty as burdensome too. Otherworldly is precisely how she would've described her, and it made Hedy a little melancholy to consider that.

For the first time, Teresa hesitated, as if aware that this news made her an anomaly, a potential threat, a Changeling. Deep blue eyes seemed to water and shake, and Hedy wished she could take away the fear of uncertainty from this girl. It was her only truly altruistic impulse as leader, to protect those who relied on her. The young girl's confidence seemed to be suddenly gone beneath Minho's strange deflatedness and Newt's scrutiny and Laverne's distrust.

"Yes," Hedy said briskly, taking over. "Teresa has been sent by whoever has been keeping us here, and she is most likely, first and foremost, our only and last escape route. Any memories she has of the Before can wait. We have a chance at getting out of here, and we can scope it out tomorrow."

"We don't even know if we can trust this girl," Marie interjected. "She could be making this up. What's a word tell us about honor and purpose? Nothing. This could be a trap."

"There are more words," Teresa asserted. "We need them. I'll get them. As quickly as I got this one."

Neither young woman breathed a word of Teresa's seemingly supernatural connection with a male voice. With Thomas. They focused on convincing the others.

"I trust her," Hedy told Marie, her tone brooking no argument.

The girl opened her mouth to argue but was silenced by a glance from Newt, her face reddening.

"Why?" Minho demanded, still staring at Teresa.

With a flush of pleasure that surprised, embarrassed, and confused her, Hedy realized that Minho's attention towards Teresa was that of suspicion, not of interest. Shoving away those emotions, Hedy cleared her throat, an unnecessary gesture since all eyes were already back on her - with the exception of the Keeper.

"Because, asshole," she explained to Minho, flitting her gaze from person to person, falling easily into her bickering with Minho. It was comforting, a routine. "She came with that note. Ben remembered her, which I originally wrote off as the madness from the Changing, but Teresa's own memories support his accusations. She, with zero knowledge of the Maze or the Map Room, waltzed in here and was able to decode more in three minutes than we have in three years. Regardless of whether or not her decoding is bullshit, nothing else is. So we're going to listen to what this woman has to say, because I'm your Leader, and I'm following her."

Teresa, mollified by Hedy's defense, began repeating the process. Minho stared at Hedy, his dark eyes serious. It was as if there was no other soul in the room except for them. Matching his intensity, she hardly dared blink. It was as if he were sending her a message, or trying to. And she knew exactly how to read it. He did not trust Teresa, but his curiosity was piqued. He thought that they should try out her method. Anything to get out. For better or for worse. Isn't this what they'd been fighting for, for years?

I don't trust her.

You don't have to.

What if this is a trap?

I'm desperate to try anything right now.

Teresa's movements distracted them, and as promised, in less than an hour she had all of them.

FLOAT. CATCH. BLEED. DEATH. STIFF. PUSH.

"What in the everlovin' hell does that mean?" Newt demanded incredulously. "Why those words?"

Teresa rolled her eyes. "Because of the way the walls line up, they're the only words that fit. The words aren't symbolic of anything, they fit geometrically."

Minho scowled. "What does some freaking new girl like you know about it?"

"More than you, clearly," Teresa retorted, levelling him with a gaze from her intensely cobalt eyes. He stepped forward, his body wider than hers, but there was something powerful in her bearing. He didn't advance on her, just sized her up in an absolutely intimidating Minho-manner that had sent dozens of Newbies into fits of tears over the years.

It was Laverne that broke the ice between them, with an oddly toned question. "Did anyone hear the Doors close?"

"No, actually, I've totally tuned it out anyhow." Newt answered, a little stupidly, as if the question were odd.

Jack peeked outside the Map Room. It was beginning to get dark. It never got that dark before the Doors closed. "They're still open," he reported, looking confused and wary, his complexion sallow.

All the color drained from their faces.

"Just another minute," Marie said nervously, stroking her sandy hair. "It'll be any second now."

The energy in the room was nervous, on edge after the emotional day they'd had. Hedy wrote down the words on a piece of map paper. "Come on, let's give that wax paper back to Saph," she suggested. Fresh air, the last bit of dying light... some openness after the claustrophobia of the room. Exiting, though, didn't cure it. Now that they knew there was a chance to get out, the Glade felt smaller than usual, the Walls taller.

It was getting darker by the second. Others noticed it too. Rosie jogged over, looking confusedly at Teresa, but shaking her head and turning to Newt and Hedy. "You're seeing this, right? I'm not jacked? Has it ever been this late?"

"You've gotta be shuckin' kidding me," Jack muttered under his breath. "What the hell, man?"

It was Teresa's low voice that resonated so powerfully, the wax paper in her hand belying the ominousness of her words: "Thomas says… that we triggered The Ending."

"Is that supposed to get a rise out of us?" Minho demanded aggressively. "What does that even mean? Who's Thomas?"

She was quiet.

"C'mon, shankette," he said, a little nervously now. Hedy looked at him. She'd never seen Minho so tightly wound. Ben's death, combined with Zora's pregnancy, and now Teresa's revelation and the subsequent, prophetic words… they did not sit well with anyone, but Minho seemed to be struggling in a way she'd never seen him. It was almost reminiscent of Newt, in the days before and after his suicide attempt.

It was now completely dark. The Walls were still open. A dread, unlike any other emotion she'd ever felt before, swept through her, jump starting her heart and rendering her immobile. Stifling the urge to vomit, she took a deep breath, and for the first time that she could remember, she shouted, at the top of her lungs:

"Everybody, find cover! Hide! Now!"

Newt began shouting the same thing, and the group immediately dispersed. Laverne shot out towards the Kitchen, ostensibly to hide Zora and Saph. Jack and Marie headed towards the far side of the Glade, shouting the warnings at the top of their lungs. Newt did the same, heading towards the DeadHeads. Minho was gone, Teresa was gone. It was as if she'd blinked and it was ten minutes later, with the shouts dying down to only a few terrified sobs. This was... completely unprecedented. They'd never had so much as a rainstorm here, and now the entire basis of their society was collapsing. What did they do? What had Teresa done? Could Hedy do anything to trigger the Walls closing?

She was interrupted from her panicked thoughts by a shadow in the distance.

"Holy shit," Hedy sucked in a deep breath. There, at the West Door, relaxed and at ease, was a Griever. She'd never gotten such a clear look at one, but it was unmistakable. Rolled up like distant memories of armadillos, or rollie-pollies, it seemed to be waiting, as if counting down. Slowly, feeling intense waves of the dread that had come upon her, she turned, watching Gladers scramble for good hiding spots, not noticing the little shadows in the corner of the Maze.

There was another one at the North Door, fully unfurled, spidery and metallic. She tasted bile in her mouth, praying for everyone to find an appropriate spot. Some in the Kitchen - some in the tree. Bark suddenly appeared at her side, and so did Minho.

"Are you jacked?" he demanded, yanking her arm forward, pulling her roughly. "You've got to hide too! Do you have a freakin' deathwish?!"

The deep, black pain in the pit of her stomach roiled. A black hole. An abyss. "Minho," she whispered, and her voice cracked because she was crying, because the moment was suddenly so silent, because all of the Gladers were finally hidden but they were all going to die, or be poisoned, or suffer the same fate that Alice had, or that Ben and Gally had, that Gloria and Stan and Ben had felt, die like how Nick had died, like how Maya had disappeared. "Do you see them?"

His gaze, concerned and angry and afraid and confused, flicked up. And he froze. "Run, idiot!" he hissed, yanking her forward as the Grievers simultaneously begin their rapid movements into the Glade.

For once, she followed without question or comment or concern, and she raced after him, her wrist firmly ensconced in his tight grip, unable to keep pace but pounding her soles down as hard as she could, Bark right on their heels. He stopped, looked around for a moment, and threw open the slammer, closing it tightly around them.

Bark settled in the corner without so much as a whine, and the metallic whirring that had become, to Hedy, a sign of sheer doom and chaos, passed by. Then again. Then more, louder. Back and forth. Closer, then more distant.

Then the screaming began.

Standing up wildly, Hedy felt the agony reverberate through her body. She knew the timbre of that voice.

It was Tim.

Tim, the first Greenie they'd gotten. Kind, hardworking Tim, with his affinity for vegetables and willingness to do anything for anyone, his patience, his work ethic, his soft, shy smile. His scream died out, but almost as if it had been waiting, a new one erupted.

Joan. Little Joan, so innocent, so fun-loving, great at impressions, infatuated beyond belief with Tim. They'd probably been hiding somewhere together. She screamed only once. Then it was silent again, except for the whirring of the Grievers. True to their name. Alice's bloody form immediately flashed through Hedy's mind, her sobbing, her sheer terror and mindless determination.

"A spider, a giant spider… it killed me, Hedy. Minho always said a spider can't hurt you. But he was wrong. It hurt me so bad, it stabbed me and it bit me and it was so big… oh, it was so freakin' big, Hedy…"

"Hedy, I'm scared, I'm so scared. I'm gonna die, aren't I? Oh, shuck, I'm gonna die. I'm dead already. That thing… it killed me, didn't it?"

Hedy didn't realize what she was doing, climbing up and out of the cell Minho had thrown her down, until he grabbed her, wrenching her back into the shadows, holding her down with his body weight.

"You have to stay here!" he hissed into her ear, his weight keeping her immobile against the dirt floor and wall. Tears stung her eyes and her throat felt too swollen and she tried to push against him, but his face was angry, furious with her for struggling, and his voice was sharp enough to cut her when he said: "If you draw any attention to us, we're both going to die, just like them."

She broke. Hedy began to cry, really cry, silent sobs that shook her as the tears slid down her cheeks and into the earth that cradled her head. She whispered, so low that her lips were against his ear: "I'm supposed to be their Leader, Minho, and they're dying."

A shriek resounded close to them and she panicked again, bucking against Minho mindlessly, as if the sound itself had the ability to maim her, but Minho was implacable, immovable, holding her with desperate, brutal strength and his greater weight. Despite everything, he was the one making the decision right now. "They won't have any Leader if you throw your shucking life away."

His words were harsh, but even as she hysterically listened to the cries and wails of the people who had trusted her to protect them, she knew he was right. So she waited, burrowed in his arms, because she couldn't trust herself to not climb out if he did not grip her as though their lives depended on it. Since they did, indeed, depend upon it.

For himself, Minho fought the urge to move, to run, to hide in the Maze, with every beat of his heart. Perhaps in another life, he would've. But this was the only world he knew, and she was worth protecting with his life. As he nestled his cheek against Hedy's, feeling her rapid heartbeat, the stiffening of her limbs each time they heard someone else cry out, kept him awake, alert, ready at every moment to tie her down with his arms. It was too dark for their eyes to meet, to communicate. It reminded her of the time they'd hidden in the Maze. The time he'd hoisted her down the Wall. The time he'd carried her to safety, so recently.

Eventually, though, they managed to sleep a little, a short, dozing, fitful nap amongst the silence that fell as the sun rose. When Minho woke up, curling off of her, she only sat up, dark shadows circling her eyes. He'd laid on her all night, his larger body keeping her warm, his steady, vivid heartbeat reminding her that they were both alive, even if others weren't. Now that he was gone, she felt cold.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, her voice hoarse and hollow, as if she'd been screaming. She had, at least not verbally. Any Runner understood the importance of silence. As did Bark, who stretched out, looking at them with eyes that seemed filled with all the sorrow in the universe.

He didn't answer, only stretched and offered her a hand to stand up with. She took it, and they stood next to one another, quietly for a moment, facing one another. The hole they'd climbed in was above her head, it was so deep. Had the Slammer always been so deep?

"Give me a lift and I'll pull you up," he said, quietly. Though sore, she agreed, boosting him easily with her knees and hands. When he pulled her up, though, he used all of his strength to keep her on her feet, to keep her from falling onto her chest and knees. Was this what stepping out of the Box felt like? She'd stepped out first. With Nick? Or perhaps Newt. It was twisting her mind. First, Teresa had taken on the mantle of Boss in a vital situation. Then, Minho had protected her. Now, he was holding her as she stepped from the shadows into the light, just like when she helped Newbies out of the Box. Her existence suddenly felt redundant.

Minho dusted her off a little. She didn't know why it mattered – she was already covered in grime from sleeping in dirt. But he looked at her intently, and in the back of her mind, she remembered, once more, all the times he'd held her. The subtle brushes by the fireside when they'd still been new. The teasing, poking, light shoves, shoulder-tapping.

He'd always been different from Newt, who'd treated her as nothing but a friend, an equal, who touched her with nothing but love. Minho had never done anything but taunt her and antagonize her. Perhaps it would make more sense to have these feelings for Newt, who'd always been her best friend. But her traitorous heart thudded as he gripped her hand and they stepped towards the Homestead together. It was Minho who always kept her moving forward.

Slowly, others began to rise from various hiding spots around the Glade, alive through sheer luck. Hedy counted them. Bark. Minho. Meg. Jack. Eddie. Clint. Carter. Laverne. Zora. Saph. Rosie. Jeff. Gally. Ginnie. Norie. Teresa. Archie. Lizzy. Newt. Mark. Cleo.

Twenty-two. Unless someone was injured, or hiding still, they only had twenty-two living Gladers. The sheer weight of it had her staggering. That meant twelve people had died last night.

Tim. Joan. Dead for certain. And if Jack was standing there and Marie wasn't, that meant she was gone. No sign of Nelson, or Audrey, or Billie. No Monroe. No Anne. She'd heard Francis's crying, too. And someone had cried out Ruth's name. Winston and Richard were gone, too. Archie stood awkwardly. He and Ida had been an insufferably touchy couple. She was gone. There was no way he'd be without her otherwise. She hadn't seen him standing alone since Ida had come out of the box, just four months ago.

"Before we do anything else," Hedy said, raising a hand up. The sunshine was as beautiful as usual, though the crops were destroyed, the Homestead was trashed, and the Kitchen had giant holes and looked as though it were about to collapse in on itself. The Map Room had been utterly decimated, crushed. She fingered the paper with the words Teresa had deciphered on the paper, making sure it was there. "We have to look and see if there's anyone injured."

"There's no one," Newt answered her hollowly. "I counted the screams. This is all of us."

Lizzy began to cry at that, and no one silenced her. Quiet was too oppressive. It rather reminded her of Alice, which hurt. Good. She deserved to hurt. These were her people, under her care, and she'd let nearly half of them die.

"Let's get us all some food, if we can," Saph interjected, already walking away, even her buoyant spirit utterly crushed by the night spent hiding, whimpering in terror, listening to her friends dying.

"What's the point?" Ginnie wanted to know bitterly. "We'll be dead tomorrow night or the night after. Who cares about breakfast?"

"Listen!" Hedy called, ready to explain what they'd discovered yesterday, but Gally interrupted her.

"Ben was right," he said, surging forward and pointing at Teresa. "I went through the Changing too. I saw you. I remember you. I remember Before. You…" he struggled with his accusation, before taking a deep breath and looking Hedy in the eye. "She's the one who put us here in the first place."