And so it began. Him, Minho all trying to convince them we should march towards certain death, or only salvation. Our only hope. It wasn't quite as hard as I thought it's be to sway them. Fact is, they knew the Maze was hopeless, and sitting here and bloody waiting to die wasn't an option. Not for me. Not for them. We had to try something.

When the Gathering ended, Newt took me along with him to go see Tommy. He was sitting with Teresa on an old bench near the Box. "This is bloody nuts, you know that, right?" Newt said.

Thomas stood, "So they agreed to go?"

I nodded, glancing at Teresa as Newt explained. She was looking at me too, her bright blue eyes looking into my grey ones. Her skin was pale, clear and unmarked, where mine was tanned and probably smeared with dirt from one place or another. And her hair was tar black and needle straight where mine was a dirty-blonde sort of color and a mess, knotted in so many tangles I'd about given up. We were polar opposites her and I.

"-Now we just have to convince the Gladers," Newt finished.

"You think they'll go for it," Teresa asked, standing to join us.

"Not all of em," I said, a bit frustrated. "Some of em'll stay and take their chances- guarantee it."

"What about Alby?" You had to ask that didn't you, Tommy? I sighed, letting Newt answer that one.

"Who knows?" Newt said, looking around at the Keepers and their groups, "I'm convinced that bugger really is more scared to back home than he is of the Grievers. But I'll get him to go with us, don't worry."

"How are you going to convince him?" Yeah, Newt.

He laughed slightly, "I'll make up some klunk. Tell him we'll all find a new life in another part of the world, live happily ever after."

Thomas shrugged, "Well, maybe we can. I promised Chuck I'd get him home, you know. Or at least find him a home."

"Yeah, well," Teresa murmured, "Anything's better than this place."

"Good that," I muttered, my gaze fluttering to the ground.

"So what's next?" Teresa asked.

Newt took a deep breath, "Figure out who's going, who's staying. Get ready. Food, weapons, all that. Then we go. Thomas, I'd put you in charge since it was your idea, but its going to be hard enough to get people on or side without making the bloody Newbie our leader- no offense. So, just lay low, okay?"

"We're leaving the code business to you two," I told Thomas and Teresa, "You can handle that from the background."

"You sure make it sound easy," Thomas said, his voice sounding a bit tight. A bit tense.

Newt folded his arms. "Like you said- stay here, one shank'll die tonight. Go, one shank'll die. What's the difference?" He pointed at Thomas, "If you're right."

"I am," Thomas said surely.

Newt clapped him on the back, "Good that. Let's get to work."

The next few hours were frantic. They gave me a bloody headache. Most were agreeing to go- more than I would've guessed. Even Alby decided to make the run with us, which lifted a huge weight off my chest. Alby and I had a special sort of hate/love relationship and lately I'd been feeling more worried about him than I'd like to admit. I'd even tried to comfort him… something that I had never thought I'd ever have to do. Ever.

Those who decided to stay in the Glade were few, but adamant and loud, mainly walking around sulking with their tails between their legs as they tried to tell others how bloody stupid they were. Eventually, they gave up and kept their distance.

For us, there was lots more work to be done.

Backpacks were handed out and stuffed full of supplies. Frypan, who had been one of the last keepers to agree to go, was in charge of gathering all the food and figuring out a way to distribute it evenly among the packs. Syringes of the Grief Serum were included as well, just in case. Chuck was in charge of filling the water bottles and getting them out to everyone. Teresa was helping him.

Minho and I had gone to the Cliff with a group of Runners, taking ivy ropes and rocks to test the inevitable Griever Hole one last time. We were hoping and praying that the Griever's kept to their normal schedule and didn't come out during the daytime hours.

When we'd returned to the Glade, later that day, safe and sound, Minho was sounding oddly optimistic about there really being an exit. Or entrance, depending on how you looked at it.

Thomas had been helping Newt distribute the weapons, while we were gone. Even more innovative ones were created in their desperation to be prepared for the Grievers. Wooden poles were carved into spears or wrapped in barbwire; the knives were sharpened an fastened with twine to the ends of sturdy branches hacked from the trees in the woods (I hoped they didn't cut away at my tree, but I hadn't time to check) and chunks of broken glass were ducktaped to shovels. By the end of the day, the Glade had been transformed into a small army… a pathetic, unprepared, inexperienced army, but an army all the same.

Frypan had prepared one last dinner for all of the glade just before normal Door-closing time to carry us through the night. The mood couldn't have been heavier, more somber, or packed full with fear. I found myself next to Teresa of all people, the both of us picking at out food.

She was the first to speak. "So… if everyone's got names based on some famous scientist or something, what about you and me?"

I thought about it for a moment. "Well… I suppose you could be Mother Teresa." I said.

She smiled, "Oh, goodie, but what about you?"

I shrugged, "Got me, don't really care to be honest. A names a name, don't mean nothing, just something to call you by."

She cocked her head to the side thoughtfully, "Never thought about it that way."

I exhaled loudly, looking up at her, "I've been told I have an unconventional way of thinking."

"I don't doubt it," she said.

"I suppose it's expected," I told her, "I'm a girl who's been surrounding by boys for the last two years of her life… maybe they messed with that whole women's intuition thing I'm supposed to have going. Sure the Creators have been having a good old time tryin to dissect my brain." I paused motioning to my head, "It's a mess up there."

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Seriously, though, you alright?" I asked.

She laughed quietly avoiding my eyes, "I'm scared outta my mind."

"Good that," I sighed, "But it's the only chance we got."

Minho tapped me on the shoulder interrupting our little bonding moment, "You two done? We got work to do?"

I nodded, the three of us waiting by the West Door, going after the last minute plans when Tommy and Chuck came up. "You shanks ready?" Minho asked, "Thomas this was all you're idea, so it better work. If not, I'll kill ya before the Grievers can."

"Way to think positive, Minho," I said sarcastically.

"Thanks," Was Tommy's reply. He then looked to Teresa, "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered with a small grin, clearly not fine, "Just anxious to get it over with."

"Amen, sister," Minho said. He was probably the calmest out of all of us. The most confident. The least scared.

When Newt finally had everyone gathered, he called for quiet, everyone turned to see what he had to say. "There're forty-one of us." He pulled the backpack he was holding onto his shoulders and held up a thick wooden pole with barbwire wrapped around the top. "Make sure you've got your weapons. Other than that, isn't a whole lot to buggin say- you've all been told the plan. We're gonna fight our way through to Griever Hole, and Tommy here's gonna punch in his little magic code and then we're gonna get payback on the Creators. Simple as that."

I followed Tommy's gaze over to Alby who was over to the side away from everyone, a quiver of arrows over his shoulder.

"Shouldn't someone give a pep talk or something?" Minho asked, pulling my attention away from Alby.

"You volunteering?" I asked.

"Go ahead," Newt said.

Minho nodded and faced the crowd, "Be careful," he said dryly and I could tell this wasn't going to be good. "Don't die."

I dropped my face into my palm and smothered a groan.

"Great. We're all bloody inspired," Newt asked, then pointed over his shoulder, toward the Maze, "You know the plan. After two years of being treated like mice, tonight we're making a stand. Tonight we're taking the fight back to the Creators, no matter what we have to go through to get there. Tonight the Grievers better be scared."

Someone cheered, and the someone else, and someone else, soon shouts were breaking out and battle calls sounded and it was getting louder and louder and louder, filling the air like thunder. Tonight, they'd make their stand. Once and for all.

I smiled, crossing my arms over his chest. This was what an army looked like. This

Newt thrust his weapon into the air, yelling, "Hear that, Creators! We're coming!"

And with that he ran into the Maze, the limp he carried with him barely noticeable. The Gladers still cheered, picking up their weapons and running after him and I followed falling in next to Minho with a knife at each side.

We kept a steady place as we ran along the stony pathways towards the Cliff. I'd run in here before, more times than I could count, but it was different now. With the shuffling of echoing around me and the light of beetle blades flashing in the ivy- the Creators were watching, listening.

The group was spread out the full length of the corridor, running at s steady but fairly quick pace. Newt tapped Minho on the shoulder. "You lead the way now."

Minho nodded and ran to the front, guiding us through the corridors taking all the turns necessary. Running gave one time to think. Too much time. Worry started creeping up into my mind. I wondered when the Grievers would give chase. I wondered when the fight would begin. And so it went on. The Gladers unused to running gasping for breath, but nit a one quit. On we ran, and still there was no sign of the Grievers.

And finally, after what seemed like forever, we reached the long hallway leading towards the last turn before the Cliff. I'd stayed by Newt's side. Minho, Thomas, and Teresa a little ways up ahead. He slowed at the corner, holding up a hand as if to tell us to stop.

I stepped forward a bit, just enough to hear Minho whisper, "Do you hear that?"

Thomas shook his head in response. I narrowed my eyes trying to listen harder as Minho crept up ahead to peak around the corner. Minho jerked back and turned to face us, "Oh no," he said through a moan, "Oh no."

That was when I heard it. The sounds of the Grievers. It was like they'd been hiding, waiting for us, and now that we'd arrived, were coming to life. I didn't have to look, I knew what Minho was going to say before he said it. "There's at least a dozen of them. Maybe fifteen." He reached up and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands as before he continued, "They're just waiting for us!"

Newt and Alby stepped up beside me to the front of the group. Minho's announcement had already been spread through the ranks. The first thing Newt said was "Well we knew we'd have to fight." But the tremor in his voice gave him away.

It was easy to talk about nothing, but now the reality of it was just around corner. Literally. But why? Why were they waiting? Why weren't they pursuing us? Hunting us down? What advantage did they gain by waiting now?

"Maybe they've already taken a kid back at the Glade," Thomas thought aloud, "Maybe we can get past them- why else you they just be sitting-"

There was a loud noise from behind that cut him off mid-sentence. More Grievers were moving down the corridor towards them, spike out and flailing, metal arms groping at air. They were coming from the Glade.

I was gonna say something… that was until I heard the sounds from the other end of the long corridor. Looking I saw yet more Grievers. They were on all sides, blocking us off completely.

The Gladers surged towards us, forming a tight group, forcing us out into the open intersection where the Cliff corridor met the long alley. I set my eyes on the pack of Grievers between us and the Cliff, their spikes out and blubbery skin pulsating, just waiting. Watching. The other two groups had closed in and stopped, just a few dozen feet from the Gladers.

I turned slowly taking in my surrounding. We were surrounded, wholly and completely. We had no choice now… not that we ever did. It's just more… final, now.

The Gladers compressed more tightly together, everyone facing outward, huddling together in the center of the T-shaped intersection. I pressed between Minho and Alby, I could feel Alby shaking beside me. But no one said a word. The only sounds the eerie moans and whirrs of machinery that come from the Grievers. I imagined they'd be smiling wickedly… if they had a face that was.

Thomas looked to Newt, "Got any idea?" His voice shook just the tiniest bit.

"No," Newt said, "I don't understand what they're bloody waitin' for."

"We shouldn't have come," Alby said, shaking his head slightly.

"Too late now," I muttered.

"Well," Thomas said, "we'd be no better off in the Homestead. Hate to say it, but if one of us dies, that's better than all of us." I was really hoping that whole one-person-a-night thing would hold out.

A long moment of silence paused before Alby said slowly, "Maybe I should…" He trailed off, starting to walk forward- in the direction of the Cliff, slowly, staring forward as if he were in a trance. "Alby!" I whispered angrily. "Alby, what are you doing!"

"Get back here!" Newt said.

Instead of responding, Alby started running- straight for the Grievers. For the Cliff.

"Alby!" Newt and I screamed, I moved forward

Alby had already made it to the Grievers and jumped on top of one. I didn't have time to move before the Grievers were ganging up on him, five or six of them bursting life just to tear him apart. In a blur of metal and skin… Minho grabbed me before I could do anything, pulling me backward.

"Let's go!" Newt yelled, beside me, struggling to get away from Thomas.

"Are you nuts?" Tommy shouted, "There's nothing you can do!"

I was all too familiar with that. Nothing I could do. I stood still in Minho's arms. There was nothing I could do when Newt got his limp. There was nothing I could do when Nick died. When Stephan died. There was nothing I could do when Minho was stuck out in the Maze all night. When Tommy was out there all night. When Alby was out there… but Alby… Alby was…

I flinched as two more Grievers broke from the pack, swarming over Alby. They piled on top of one another, snapping and cutting at him. Like they wanted to rub it, the cruelty, the brutality. Somehow, impossibly, he did scream. I shook, my eyes locked to the horrible scene. My hand gripped the fabric of Minho's sleeve, tightly, like it was the only thing keeping me alive.

Alby had been so scared to go back, so afraid to go back to the world we'd come from he'd sacrificed himself instead. He was gone. Gone. Wholly and completely, gone.

"Tell me that didn't just happen," I choked out between uneven breaths. Minho squeezed my shoulder, but didn't say a word.

"I can't believe it," Newt whispered, "I can't believe he just did that."

I couldn't tear my eyes away from that spot… where he'd – where they'd… I had no doubt Newt looked the same. Minho stood between us, a hand on each of our shoulders, "We can't waste what he did." He turned to Thomas. "We'll fight him if we have to, make a path to the Cliff for you and Teresa. Get in the Hole and do your thing- we'll keep em off until you scream for us to follow."

Thomas nodded, "Hopefully they'll go dormant for a while. We should only need a minute or so to punch in the code."

"How can you be so heartless?" Newt murmured the disgust in his voice… surprising.

"What do you want, Newt?" Minho said, "Should we all dress up and have a funeral?"

Newt didn't respond. And neither did I. They- the Grievers were… they were feeding on him. I was shanking now, I couldn't help it. That… that had been a person. And not just any person, Alby. That had been Alby, the boy I'd swore on many occasions that I hated, but I didn't. I really didn't. Not one bit.

"Alby didn't wanna go back to his old life. He freaking sacrificed himself for us- and they aren't attacking, so maybe it worked. We'd be heartless if we wasted it."

Closing my eyes, I turned away from the scene. Minho was right. We had to do this. And we had to do it now. Newt shrugged, his eyes closed. I laid a hand on his shoulder, moving closer, "Come on, we've got one shot at this. To get out of here. Me and you, remember?"

He nodded opening his eyes and squeezing my hand, "Me and you."

Minho was yelling then, turned towards the Gladers, demanding their attention, "Listen up! Number One priority is to protect Thomas and Teresa. Get them to the Cliff Hole so-"

The sounds of the Grievers gunning to life cut him off. The creatures on both sides of the group seemed to have noticed us again. Spikes popping in and out, their bodies shuddering and pulsating. In unison the monsters moved forward, slowly, their weaponized appendages unfolding as they moved towards us, ready to kill.

Alby's sacrifice had failed.

Miserably.

A/N: Sorry... its a bit long... but hey THE MOVIE IS COMING OUT TOMORROW! AHHHHHHHH! SO FUDGING EXCITED!