The sting had changed Gally. He'd been delirious during Gloria's Banishment, and had refused to run again, and good it was, since he was really the only one suitable to be the Keeper of the Builders. Understandable too, considering the trauma of an illness that had him near death. But he had never reacted as violently as Ben. The sheer desperation and fear and mistrust in his finger, pointed so damningly at Teresa, rivaled it. His strong arm trembled, as if he trusted his intensity would convey to the others his truth.

She did not doubt that his words were true. Ben's testimony, combined with Teresa's own, meant that Gally was probably correct. But she wanted to leave; she yearned for freedom from the Maze with a fierceness that only Saph and Newt and Minho could understand. Three years… with every day getting exponentially longer, every second dragging on. Even if what waited outside for them was worse. There was no point in staying any longer; Teresa had been sent to collect them. It was over. But she saw that the terror and anger and fear and blame in his eyes could not accept that.

Gally had once been a bit of a bully; an aggressive nature combined with a large and powerful body made him so. It wasn't his fault the likes of Archie and Richard and Nelson and Ben bowed to his forceful personality. It wasn't that Gally was unkind; it was that his very essence was of strength, and he brooked no nonsense from those he did not respect or trust. Perhaps he was similar to Hedy and Teresa in that respect, and even Minho. But she'd never much liked him. That was to say, she never felt close with him. She didn't dislike him, or even disrespect him. But there had always been a gap in their comprehension of one another. They did not click.

The remaining Gladers gaped at Gally, then at Teresa, then at Hedy, their mouths open like fish. Hedy frowned. "What did you see?" she asked, her tone reasonable and engaging.

"I don't remember much," he admitted, eyes focused on Teresa, never once flicking to Hedy. "But I remember her, and some guy with brown hair. Ugly shuck, he is." Teresa stiffened slightly at that, Hedy noted that Teresa may have hidden feelings. "I remember a woman, a doctor…" he hesitated. "I think it's bad out there. I think we're better off and safer in the Glade, without Teresa."

Newt looked at him as if he'd grown a second head overnight. "Not anymore we're not, obviously!" he growled, and Hedy agreed. "The Doors are open - permanently, if last night is to believed. Anyhow, Gally, how are we supposed to buggin' Banish a wee girl - who has done nothing we know of - when the very same Doors don't shut?"

"He's right," she sighed. "All bets are off, now. All of us who didn't die last night… we'll die tonight, if we stay. But Teresa-"

"Didn't I just say we can't trust her?" Gally asked in frustration, breaking away from the group and sucking in a ragged breath. "It's a trick! This shank is gonna lead us to our deaths."

"You're right, Gally." Minho spoke up, and all the attention focused on him for a moment. Teresa was watching her feet again. "We don't know. This could be a trap. But we've been trying to get out of here for freaking years. And this shank has figured out how we can do it. And if the Walls don't close again, we're dead. Personally, I'd rather be out of here by then." Looking up at the silent, exhausted Gladers, Minho shook his head. "I'm leaving. Today. As soon as we get some supplies ready. Anyone who wants to come can come. If you wanna stay, Gally, and become freakin' Griever food, that's not on me."

"A vote?" Newt suggested, ever the diplomat. "Who says we stay here, at least for now?"

A few hands raised. Gally's. Eddie. Carter. Cleo. Meg.

"And who wants to go see if we can get the buggin' hell out of here?"

Everyone else raised their hands. Seventeen Gladers. Sixteen, since Hedy couldn't go.

"You didn't raise your hand," Newt looked at her, eyes concerned and confused.

"I can't go."

"What the shuck do you mean, you can't go?" Minho exploded furiously, forgetting they had an audience. "This is the time! If you don't go now, you'll die. You're the one who said we should do it!"

"I figure," she said, looking up at him, eyes pleading with him to understand. "But I can't leave the Gladers who are staying. I can't abandon them like that. I'm the Leader."

"You're signing your own death warrant by staying." Newt's voice was clipped and furious – an angry tone that he never took with her. "You're an idiot." His words were furious and pained

"I wouldn't be a leader if I left when the going gets tough," she said, feeling tears sting her eyes. It was rare that she cried. Letting the tears flow only had her feeling more useless, so she blinked, hard, once, and stared at him clearly. "They need a leader. Even if nothing is waiting out there but death, I can't leave the Gladers by themselves."

"What about us?" Saph wanted to know, seeming smaller than usual, fragile and afraid in a way she hadn't even been on their very first day, in their first terrifying moments in the Box. "We need you too!"

"If Newt goes with the Runners, then that's my second in command. And I trust you with them." Her voice was resigned. She was not hoping they were wrong. Hedy knew that she was going to die. Her bet was on an escape. "I think Teresa's right."

She watched the Gladers who wanted to stay slowly file away, going about regular duties as if it were a normal day, as if everyone was not dead and gone, as if they'd never existed. Meg looked grateful for Hedy's words.

"What's the point of staying with them if you're gonna be dead in a day?" Minho shouted at her, stepping up and invading her space, just like he always did.

She'd miss him so much.

"Because, shuckhead, the only thing worse than dying is dying alone! If I leave them, they have nothing!" she whispered at him, stepping back into his personal space, pointing a finger at his arrogant chest. "They're afraid, they don't believe Teresa, and they know they have at most a few nights left! Each and every one of those kids is damn well hopeless, and they aren't coming, no matter what. Do you know the only thing that's worse than sitting in wait, knowing you're dead? Thinking that the person who swore to protect you, the first person you ever remember seeing, has left you for dead," she shook her head. "I picked up that responsibility. They may not know me, they may dislike me, or be afraid of me, but they need me."

"No!" Minho threw back at her. "Imagine that you're going to go potentially throw your life away on some stupid whim that a Greenie came up with, and your Leader, the shank who's sworn to protect you, whose face is in your dreams, who is a part of your first memories, isn't even tough enough to join in! If you're not coming, don't come. But don't try to justify it. You're quitting. You're just scared."

"You can't goad me into it, asshole!" she shouted, really yelling this time.. Minho stormed out, and Saph followed, sending her beseeching eyes. Only Newt stood solemnly with her, saying nothing. There was nothing to say. Only that she had to decide. Opening his arms, Newt welcomed her, and she rushed gratefully into the embrace. It was comforting. "He's right," she said, the words playing in her mind.

"He's scared." Newt said. "We're all scared bloody witless. And Nick and Alice…"

"They didn't get the chance to choose."

Minho wanted her to choose them. And she wanted to. But how could she condemn so many to die alone? Gally, Meg, Eddie, Carter, and Cleo. They were steadfast, choosing to stay. Five of her Gladers, choosing certain death over uncertain death. More likely than not, more would die on the way out. They were kids! It wasn't fair that they'd be forced to choose.

"I feel like I'm condemning them to death if I leave."

"They're buggin' dead already," Newt replied, releasing her. "We all probably are. But better to go down fightin', right? On our own terms," he said meaningfully. She'd saved him from suicide. Didn't she owe it to him to save her from her own leadership? Wholeheartedly, she believed that. Selfishly, she wanted to go, to fight, to stay with Newt and Saph and Minho and even Teresa, the little green shank she barely liked but respected and admired and would like to know better.

Sucking in a breath, Hedy admitted in a small voice: "I… I want to come."

"It's as simple as that," Newt told her gently. "Nobody can ask you to stay. If you want to go, just come with us."

"Nobody is asking, but I can't leave them," Hedy answered, staring at his chest, seeing the long, uneven ends of his hair brushing past his shoulders. "They trust me to take care of them. I can't abandon them because I think it's a stupid-ass idea."

"You're not leaving them. They're staying behind. They won't condemn you for that. 'Sides, you thought Nick going down the shaft was a stupid bloody idea too, and he's dead. You usually have pretty bloody good judgment 'bout these things, Hed."

She slapped a hand to her forehead, smiling a little bit to herself, decision made. She still had the same lingering feeling of guilt, but she also felt lighter, freer. Minho was taking charge on this one, him and Teresa.

"C'mon!" Minho shouted. "If you're coming, let's freakin' go!"

"He means you too," Newt said, gesturing at her. Hesitantly, she stepped up, keeping pace with him as they jogged towards the entrance to the Maze. There was only one place they could go, and Minho knew it, as did Teresa, as did all the Runners. The Cliff. It was the only possible place.

They went together, with the remaining Gladers watching them solemnly. Hedy did not want to look, but she couldn't help it. Gally and Meg… they'd been there since the beginning. How could she leave them? They might as well have been Firsts. Gally… he'd been through everything. Really, he'd felt so much pain while here. And Meg was the first girl. She had a special fondness in her heart for each of them. While their true personalities were a sometimes mystery to her, it was like watching a child being born. Each frightened, confused, flabbergasted face was imprinted in her memory. And Gally's punch was imprinted on her face, sure she was of her nose's newfound crookedness.

"C'mon, Hedy!" Laverne called. "We gotta go! Keeper's orders, dude!"

Sparing one last glance, trying to stop the flood of memories and nostalgia that came at the sight of them, Hedy turned and raced after them, following Newt, who waited for her, patiently, his limp almost invisible and his face free of pain.

She remembered each of their First Days as she jogged past them. Cleo, who'd been half-unconscious, near delirious, and yet so shy, tall and slender, matching Newt in height; Meg, who'd refused to come out of the Box for nearly half an hour; Eddie, who'd nearly pissed his pants at the sight of them; Carter, who'd been so calm, before nearly having a panic attack at the Walls closing; Gally, clocking her.

Now, she was leaving them to die. Because they would. And while they might all die too, they'd die together, while they'd die alone and afraid and wishing they had someone who gave a shit about them. Because despite herself, that's what she was. Hedy was their Leader. For most of them, she was the only leader they knew, the one with the answers, the one who told them what to do. For shuck's sake, Eddie was maybe thirteen or fourteen.

They made the first turn, and the remaining Gladers were out of sight.

Hedy ran past the group, up to Minho and Teresa, who were leading the way. "You know what to do?" she asked Teresa warningly.

The girl nodded. "I know what I'm doing," she said curtly, as she and Minho lead them turn after familiar turn, through the ivy-ridden labyrinth. Their journey was slowed by those who were not quick, but as the miles beat on and the sun beat down, time passed and they progressed. It didn't matter. What was an extra hour to freedom or death over the span of three years?

For many of her Gladers, including Saph and Zora, this was their first time in the Maze. They had no time to be amazed, however, because they were so fearful. Perhaps the Grievers would be out, near the edges of the Maze, and they could die in the next hour. If the Doors hadn't shut, who was to say all the rules would be broken? Perhaps it would rain. Probably some people would die.

Death was a strange thing. One second, a person could be alive and well, laughing even. The next, they weren't even there anymore. Nick proved that – one second he was showing off, being a big Leader, a trailblazer. Then his body had been severed like a paper doll meeting scissors.

Teresa and Minho led the group, and Hedy was unsurprised to see Teresa keeping even pace with Minho, and in fact, leading him at times. Of course the girl sent to save them - or damn them - was well versed in the Maze's turns and athletic enough to keep up with Minho. Suddenly, though they were so close to the final turn to the Cliff, they slowed and stopped, Minho murmuring to her. He turned to face the group, some of them looking utterly exhausted and terrified. While most in the Glade had some level of strength and athleticism, nobody really jogged or had any need for particular speed except for the Runners. She couldn't imagine what the Maze looked like to them - she knew the particular section of Maze as well as she knew what Newt's face looked like. To Saph and the others, it probably seemed like an enormous cavern, frightening and oppressive.

"There's a Griever. Listen," Minho mouthed, and the already solemn group silenced. Including Saph, who was probably the least in shape of all of them. "Those of us with weapons have to go and try and fight it off so Teresa can get in there. No matter what, your goal, whether or not you die, is to keep Teresa safe. She's the only one who has any idea of what the hell to do."

Solemn faces nodded. Hedy belatedly realized that Minho had grabbed some of the tall spears that Tim had used for cutting particularly tall plants. Clever. She honestly would have never considered using a weapon. She relied on cunning and speed to keep her alive in the Maze. She wasn't quite sure how strong or aerodynamic a Griever was.

"Hedy, Newt, Laverne, Rosie." Minho counted them off, handing Newt and Hedy extra spears. "It's up to us to go first. Try and make a hole for Teresa to get through." They could die. It was an implicit demand for them to acknowledge that. Maybe if they died, the rest could live. The Greenies. The Gladers. The kids. Teresa would take care of them, Hedy hoped. She did not know if Teresa felt as protective towards them as she, but she would die for them if they'd live another day, as miserable and confusing as that day would likely be.

Preparing herself, Hedy swallowed, exchanging a glance with Newt. His expression was grave, but he tensed with readiness. This was not the Newt who'd been desperate and afraid, but the man who would do anything to protect the people he cared about. Her heart swelled with love and pride despite the circumstances. She would die for Newt, even if it meant he lived only another second. He was the symbolic of all goodness of their little society, the kindness and diplomacy and wisdom of the best of them, handsome and strong and noble.

Equally fierce, Minho led the way, broad shoulders and muscular arms held tense, a spear in his hands. Hedy followed, not bothering to wait and see if the others would match her time. She had no idea how fast Rosie was.

Ahead of them, maybe forty feet away, too close for comfort, was the Griever. Against her better instinct, she forced herself to run headlong at it, clenching her jaw and furrowing her brow, trying to redirect her pain and fear to bravery. It was disgusting, all sticky flesh and disgusting metallic mandibles. There was nothing in that machine but hatred and murder, and staring at it as it began to wind towards them, Hedy did not feel fear. She felt nothing but anger. This was what had killed Alice, what had caused them terror, what had picked off her Gladers last night. This was the thing that had truly imprisoned them, more than any Walls could have ever done. More than physically keeping them there, it had emotionally.

She caught up to Minho, running at his pace exactly, and the two of them slammed their spears into the Griever. "Go!" he screamed, veins bulging in his neck, and Teresa bolted past them, with the others behind her.

Another spear joined theirs, knocking it to the side, Hedy's side, but Laverne was already there, helping her force it off the side of the rail, into nothing but blackness for who knew how long. But Grievers could climb walls, and another came up the other side towards them, the strange blackness of the little hallway hiding them. This place seemed new, unfamiliar, though Hedy knew it well, though she knew Maya had died here.

"Get them through!" Saph ordered, sending the Gladers through, one by one, a solid mother hen. "Newt! Be careful!" she screamed. He turned just in time to see a Griever coming at him, and Rosie stood next to him, forcing it back.

"Get out of the way!" Minho shouted. Hedy threw a spear frantically, knocking the stinger out of Minho's way, though it curled eerily around her stick.

"Come on!" Teresa shouted. "Get over here guys! I'm almost done!"

"Shut the hell up and go!" Saph ordered. "You worry about opening the door!"

"We have to jump!" Teresa shouted, but Hedy could hardly hear her, since she was preoccupied.

"Saph, is that everyone past us?"

There had been screams, and she was doing what she could, but she knew with a sinking heart that they'd lost some. The cliff was right ahead of them, and some had likely fallen.

But Hedy did not stop to look, only feeling the adrenaline.

"Shove over!" Laverne shouted at her, hitting her with her body – hard enough to send Hedy flying. Looking down, she saw another Griever climbing up the side of the wall.

"Watch out!" she hollered, rolling over out of the way as fast as she could. She'd been scraped on her fall – she could feel the blood on her arm – but it didn't matter. As she stood up, scrambling as ungracefully as she could imagine, she saw one roll over Rosie, coming towards her. Rosie screamed. Then she stopped. Simply silenced.

It spelled her doom. The creature was quick – too quick. She stepped back, nearly tripping over the ledge, feeling pebbles loosen at her steps, and it suddenly stopped.

Inches in front of her, it simply froze. Leaping back, Hedy peered around it, wishing for her spear. But nobody was there. Nobody but Laverne, Newt, Minho, and Rosie, who was breathing raspily.

"What just happened?" Laverne breathed, looking around. "They all disappeared."

"The bloody things just... stopped."

"Rose, you good?" Minho bent over Rosie, who moaned, but did not open her eyes. They crowded around her, horrified. The entire right half of her body was crushed – the blood was rushing and her bones were torn. Her breathing was labored.

"Oh, shit," Hedy knelt down at her side, panicked. "You're fine. It's fine. We just need Clint and Jeff."

"Clint went down out here," Newt said soberly, awe and sadness in his tone. Hedy looked around. Nobody else was standing with them. "And Jeff's gone. He went through the Griever hole with Teresa. The words she found… they must have been real. They truly stopped the Grievers. We're… free."

"We're clearly not all free, Newt! We have to carry her!" Laverne said hysterically, kneeling down, not crying but seeming panicked. "Rosie, you'll be fine, girl, no worries."

A head popped free out of nowhere. It was Saph. "C'mon!" she shouted at them, clearly not seeing Rosie around the wall of them all.. "Y'all gotta come in, people! Jump through, where I am!"

Hedy looked down. Rosie's chest had stopped heaving. Regret and pain washed over her. It was not grief. They did not have time for that.

"She's dead," Minho said, turning away, a mask stealing over his face, turning it to granite. "We gotta go."

Laverne looked up at Newt, her face stained with tears. But Newt stood resolutely, offering her a hand, and Hedy followed Minho, knowing they'd come.

"Jump," Minho ordered Laverne. "I'll watch you."

Timidly, Laverne looked at the precipice of the cliff. Taking a deep breath, she leapt across, disappearing.

"What in the bloody hell?" Newt breathed. They'd been too preoccupied before to watch it, but here it was. The opening. Hidden in plain sight.

"She did it," Hedy breathed, relieved. "She made it across."

"Terry did it," Newt corrected, flashing a grin at her. "C'mon now, you go. Ladies first."

Hedy looked at him, and took a running jump. She landed with a thud in a small, dark room. Laverne and Saph stood there, embracing in such an intimate, loving way that Hedy felt like she had interrupted something. She was a little embarrassed; she rarely saw the two girls like this. They were rowdy and raucous and flirted incessantly with others. They rarely showed the love that Hedy saw so clearly presented in front of her, so true and beyond the normal bounds of a teenage relationship.

"Go down!" Saph ordered her much larger partner. "Go, go, go, go. Laverne, babylove, you first. Before Teresa and the others think we all died."

Planting a kiss on her forehead, Laverne obeyed her girlfriend, going down the hole easily, sliding down as if they were simply on a playground.

"We lost a good few of 'em," Saph said tiredly, facing her, two Firsts. "A couple of 'em went fightin' the Grievers. For Teresa. I saw Rose. Archie too. And Lizzy got knocked clean off that bridge."

Newt appeared as she spoke, and Minho followed.

"Nothing kills the mood like dead friends," Minho cracked weakly. "Let's go and see if there's anything worth celebrating down there."

"For once, this shank is right, we gotta go now," Newt agreed, sliding down and following Laverne's lead, sending a meaningful look towards Hedy. Hurry, his look said. Don't get dragged down by sentiment, at least not now. Later. His gaze was full of promises. She trusted them.

Minho looked at Hedy, a serious expression on his face. "If I don't see you on the other side," he said in a sappy voice, "remember I always loved you more than Saph."

Saph punched him, suddenly looking much larger and less frail than she had all day, as if she were a balloon filling up with helium. "Let's go!" she ordered him, cackling, looking light with relief. Turning to Hedy, she bowed: "I love you way more than that shank—"

Picking her up roughly, as he often did, swinging her like a rag doll, Minho shoved Saph through, going down with her like she was his child and they were riding a slide. Hedy followed, feeling sick to her stomach the whole way down - it felt like it only took a few seconds. Newt was there, waiting for her. Everyone else was a few steps ahead of them. Teresa looked confused, leading the slightly smaller pack. They were in what appeared to be an office hallway, silent and haunting, the walls gray and unpleasant. Not a soul to be seen older than eighteen.

"Fuck," she said, feeling herself beginning to get emotional, looking around the fluorescent hallway. "What the hell, man… I don't…"

"We're here," he said quietly. "Wherever here is. We're all here. Everyone that could be. There's no point wondering. If the answers come, they come."

It was terrible. It was selfish and sinful and she had tried to call herself a Leader, but mostly she was so so relieved that Newt was okay, except for a few scratches. The Gladers that had stayed behind didn't even cross her mind any longer. He was right. It was time to look forward.

"Come on!" Teresa called, beginning to lead them down the hall, looking for a door that would open. She moved with ease, as if she knew the place well, was comfortable here. The door she opened had a plaque besides it that read "Observation Room A".

Staring around them, Hedy took it in. A hallway. A real building. Indoors. The concepts were familiar, though they didn't have them in the Glade, not really. Laverne held Saph's hand as they followed, a continuance of their rare show of genuine public affection. The place was all white, with dim lighting that hurt Hedy's eyes. Still though, she followed, going back up to the front with Teresa, wondering what waited ahead of them. If they were jailed, or science experiments, or a reality television show, or whatever else it possibly could be.

The door opened easily, and they all filed in. It was utterly empty in the room, no people, just blinking computer monitors. Teresa moved quickly through the rows of computers until she reached the largest monitor in the center of the room. Nobody dared ask what was happening - not a single other soul dared touch anything.

With a few clicks, a video appeared on screen. A boy, rather unhandsome, with dark blonde hair, sat in the very room they now stood.

"This was recorded yesterday," Teresa murmured, pointing at the date on the screen. A real date. They all drank it in while the boy shuffled through papers and clicked on the keyboard that rested, unseen, beneath the monitor. They were too overwhelmed to question how Teresa knew her dates.

"Hello," he said, his eyes deep and brown and quite serious. She'd never seen anyone carry such a look of heaviness, of many conflicting emotions, of such confidence and power. Not even in Teresa. "My name is Thomas." His tone belied his age, which was similar to her own, perhaps younger.

Teresa flinched and Hedy wondered how exactly they knew one another. He continued on, gesturing around a room that was equally empty as the one they stood in now.

"For more than three years, WCKD has been conducting an active experiment called The Maze Trials. Some call them inhumane. Others call it humanity's final opportunity for survival," he paused, leaning back in his chair, looking down at something in his hands. "WCKD is a private company, established after the End of the World."

A rippled went through the crowd at this, captivated by the strange tale that was being told. Hedy slipped her hand into Newt's and squeezed. He squeezed back, never taking his steady gaze from this stranger, Thomas.

"WCKD stands for "World in Catastrophe, Killzone Experiment Department," he smiled ironically at the logo at the top corner of his shirt. "WCKD, however… is good. After the sun flares decimated parts of the planet several years ago, before any people in this room were born, it was formed. The weakened Ozone layer offered meager protection against the solar flares, and thus… ice caps melted. Parts of the planet became utter wasteland. All electronic communication methods were destroyed. The weather changed. The population was decimated, but ravaged the landscape."

Thomas disappeared for a moment, and images of a yellow, burnt landscape appeared, with buildings all destroyed and architecture completely unrecognizable. Hedy blinked, wishing she had memories to fill in any gaps. The Glade, despite its many issues, had been beautiful. It seemed impossible to believe that the world had been through so much. They'd had no idea, not an inkling. This seemed much more serious than a reality television series. If Thomas were to be believed. It was so difficult to understand the truth without the context of their memories.

The boy continued, and Hedy tore her gaze away to look at the others before her. Minho was riveted, staring, his body completely still. Saph was whispering to Laverne, and the others seemed just as uncomfortable and confused as she felt.

"Thus, with so little supplies to keep the human race alive, a group that dubbed themselves the Post-Flare Coalition," he said the words with bitterness. "Consisting of one society's government officials… they released a virus, specifically virus VC321xb47, believing the virus to swiftly and painlessly kill susceptible victims by attacking the brain. Or, as we dub it now, the killzone, a specific lobe of the brain. This was done in order to limit the population, since resources were so limited. This virus became synonymous with the Flare. However, upon release, it was discovered that the virus did not behave the way they had supposed."

Images of dead bodies, twisted and maimed, appeared on screen. Several people gasped.

"The Flare quickly mutated into something else entirely. Rather than a painless, instant death, victims were driven insane, becoming violent towards others and even themselves. The Cranks, as they have been colloquially called, first died quickly, though still experiencing the tragic and physically painful, emotionally damaging side-effects.

"As the virus travelled from person to person, as a virus does, it did not weaken until it was no longer active, as the PFC assumed. Instead, it strengthened, becoming more infectious and its effects taking longer and longer to occur within a human host."

Someone was crying. Hedy clutched Newt's hand, horrified despite herself, trying to control her emotional react to Thomas and his cold, factual presentation of this terrible world they'd suddenly found themselves in. He gripped her back.

"Early signs of the Flare are paranoia, mood-swings, poor balance, headaches, irrational anger, and aggression. Eventually, humanity is stripped from the brain, and Cranks become nearly zombie-like in their movements and intentions. PFC, regretting their hasty actions, sought to discover a cure, and thus WCKD was born."

Teresa stared at him, as if he could feel the intensity of her gaze through time and electricity. Almost as if he did notice her, Thomas paused, staring into space for a moment.

"However, they found hope when it was discovered that some of the children were immune to the effects of the Flare. WCKD collected as many of these children as possible, saving them from violent deaths at the hands of parents, once loving, soon to become neglectful and violent. Many of WCKD's tactics are controversial; the most controversial, perhaps, is the little-known Maze Trials."

Finally, some answers. Specifically about them. Hedy tried to absorb the knowledge Thomas had just dropped on them, tried to make room in her mind for his explanation of the past three years.

"In order to monitor the killzone, subjects were placed into a simulated arena and subjected to all sorts of stress, as it was an early discovery that heightened brain activity increases the speed of the Flare's effects. Not all of the subjects were Immune; a few children without immunity were planted to compare the brain differences, control subjects. This has been a project of nearly a decade in the making, and would not have been possible without the help of dozens of scientists, many of whom was succumbed to the very sickness they dedicated their lives to trying to cure."

"The reason you come upon an empty room is because this building has been abandoned due to infection. For the safety of the scientists who do not boast Immunity, as many of you do, it is vital that they stay alive, in order to maintain their lives… otherwise, this would have been for nothing."

Thomas, who had been calm and quiet until this point, suddenly became earnest and intense, genuine feeling showing through, his speech suddenly less forced and elevated: "I know you guys have been through the ringer. But don't worry; the casualties were much less serious than you thought. Any person whose body you did not find was taken back to another, safer place, for further experimentation. They're alive. This has been hard, and you don't deserve it, nobody does, but this has a purpose. You are saving lives by just existing. It doesn't seem like it, but every day you spent in there was applied research, intended to save the kids just like you, who don't have immunity. Most of the danger… was all in your head."

With that, the video ended, Thomas frozen in place, his stare eating through his two dimensional image and burning into their brains.

"I told you," a voice behind Hedy stated. Gally, who'd been stung. Again! What could that do to him? Thomas hadn't explained the Changing, or Griever serum, and they didn't have any on them, she thought frantically. She didn't understand the box, or why Alice had to die but Stan was alive. She didn't understand why they'd been forced through so much torture. "It was her and her little boyfriend," Gally spat. Was the Changing like the Flare? Is that why it drove them so mad?

The group moved a little closer together, Hedy trying instinctively to stand in front of Saph, Laverne mimicking her movements.

"We can't leave!" Gally shouted, suddenly, advancing closure, shaking, sweating, his face sallow and terrified. "Think we're free out there? With that? How are we supposed to know who's immune to that and who isn't? It's just another trick! She's just a liar! You can't trust anything she says! How do we know we aren't all sick!"

Saph, who rarely moved quickly, who was thin and out of shape, who was by far the smallest person in the room was suddenly in front of Teresa, before Gally's movement was even understood. Teresa gaped at her, back at Gally, staring. A knife was embedded in her chest. Hedy didn't understand where he got it, what it was, where he had come from, how he'd arrived so quickly. She didn't understand anything. Turning, she shouted, jumping over rows of desks to get to her.

All that Minho could see was red – not just with Saph's blood, but with the rage and pain that burned through him like fire. How dare this insane boy use violence against these girls? Teresa, who was as ignorant as they were, and Saph - Saph, who was the most beautiful, bubbly, innocent person imaginable, the funniest, the best, the most giving and loving-

He didn't yell, he didn't give off any battle cry, any release – he just ran and dove at Gally, feeling the flesh of the boy's neck between his fingers. Nothing had ever felt more satisfying than the vision of Gally's face grow red and swollen. His fingers could not clench tight enough. He wanted to snap the fucker's head off, to rip it, to make him bleed and die an agonizing death.

Everything was slightly blurry, his hearing stunned from the shock, and the only thing he heard was his name, over and over and over, until finally he looked up, falling back off Gally, feeling the hands at his arms that were guiding him.

It was Hedy, tears streaking her cheeks, pulling him off Gally, yanking at his hands with a forceful strength he'd never felt from her. She'd been standing in front of Saph, and it hadn't mattered. Saph had moved, had purposefully put herself in danger. To save Teresa. All of his strength was drained and he felt himself collapse, his muscles relaxing just because he'd spent so much strength, lost so much adrenaline. He sagged a little into her, feeling the comfort of her strength. She was dragging him away, holding him up, and somehow he stood, Hedy's hands at his arms, clutching him, face ashen, Teresa and Newt by Saph's body.

Saph was looking at him. "Minho!" Hedy's voice was suddenly clear, authoritative. Bossy, as usual. This was normal. Everything was fine. If Hedy was being normal, Saph would be fine. Hedy could fix anything. "She wants you!"

Shoving Hedy aside, moving quickly, he dropped to the ground, looking at Saph, her face more deeply tanned and freckled than it had ever been, tight curls sprouting from the edges of her scalp in a loose mess – she'd mentioned needing a haircut – and she was thin, too thin, and she seemed even smaller than ever, curled on the floor, Newt next to her, crying, while Teresa gaped in shock and Laverne held her head in her lap, trying to stem the blood that flowed over her hands, hysterical as Minho felt.

In that moment, looking up at her beauty, he'd never hated anyone or anything as strongly as he hated Teresa. Not even Gally, who deserved the blame more, but all the stupid shankette could do was flop her mouth like a fish while his best friend, his oldest friend, bled out on the floor of some stupid lab, right after getting out of the godforsaken maze. Dying in her freaking girlfriend's arms, the two women in his life who were closest to him, his prize Runner, his partner in crime, and his best friend, sometimes his only friend, his support system and comedy teammate.

"You need anger... management," Saph told him quietly, the words slow and gagged out. In another life, another day, another moment, her expression would've been lofty, hiding her giggles, holding a spatula or some shucking thing that she used in the kitchen while she slaved to make meals for dozens of hungry shanks who could hardly muster a thank you. "And... an attitude... readjustment... and... and a shower." How could she speak so easily? She was bleeding, her color slowly fading.

Normalcy. A goodbye, a see you later. Something fell on her neck, and he realized it must've been a tear, but he wasn't crying. Why would he cry? Everything was gonna be okay. It was probably Laverne's tears. "And you need a haircut," he mocked, grinning at her wildly. Where was Hedy with a solution? What were Clint and Jeff doing? "And some high heels, and ten extra pounds." Laverne choked a laugh out, perhaps fooled by their banter into thinking it would be okay, perhaps deceiving herself because she knew it wasn't true. Because she knew what Minho was in wild denial of. Laverne clutched her hand and Saph squeezed it, knowingly or unknowingly, her meager strength fading quickly as the all of the blood in her tiny body slowly ebbed out of the wound that seemed to take up half her chest.

"Slint... head," Saph said, and those were her last words, because a minute later, she stopped moving and the bleeding slowly stopped and Newt was crying and Hedy was holding Laverne now, who was sobbing hysterically, stroking Saph's hair, and even Hedy was tearing up, and Zora seemed like she was going to implode.

Minho went berserk. He wanted to fucking kill Gally, make sure that bastard was dead, wanted to beat some sense and an apology and gratitude into Teresa, because Saph had sacrificed her life for that worthless girl's, who Gally could still be right about, and how was he supposed to go on without her? His best friend in the entire world, the only one willing to play along to his attitude, who knew his favorite color and wasn't intimidated by him and always made sure everyone else was okay before taking care of herself... was dead. It was bullshit! If anyone deserved a happy ending, it was her. There was nobody who'd ever been better than her. In the end, though, all he could do was bury his face in his hands. He didn't know he was keening, a low moan that allowed nothing to break through to him.

"Min!" The name kept repeating, but it did not register as his own. All he could think about was Saph. Three years, he'd known her. Three years where she'd teased him and mocked him and thrown things at him, when they'd teamed up to tease Hedy and Laverne, making faces behind Nick's back, mocking Newt's accent. She was his partner in crime. Three years. That was their whole life. It was everything.

"Min!" Coming back down to earth, he realized he was staring at Hedy, who was pulling him along as Newt trailed them, a large hand on his back, guiding him forward. Vaguely, he remembered how much Hedy hated touching people. She did it though. For the Greenies, still in their hole, waiting to be reborn. For him, for Newt, for Saph. Newt's shadow was large, looming over them. Where was Saph?

"I'm fine," he said automatically, when really, he wanted to rip someone's guts out. His face felt hot. Rage. Hedy had wrapped her fingers around his fists, and he realized the throbbing around them was not just his fury. They were in a helicopter. It was a rescue. Everything felt strange and unreal. Looking up, he saw the men that had rescued them, all in a strange brown uniform. The feeling of freedom struck nothing in Minho. A part of him died when Saph had. He did not feel alive. He did not feel free. There was no freedom for Saph. Thomas had said that any Gladers taken by Grievers were still alive. Why then did Alice have to die? Why did Nick? Saph?

He sat between Hedy and Newt, across from Zora and Laverne, still staring at the blood caking between her fingers, and thought about how much he hated WCKD.