ACT I SCENE XXIV
SYNDEIPNOI

   RED BEAMS shone all around them through the thicket of ivy that consumed the walls of the Maze, beetle blades in all directions to watch them—study them. They ran with breath-taking speed but some of the other Gladers were starting to slow down, panting heavily as they fell to the back of the group. For the majority of them, this was their first time running through the twisting corridors of the maze.

Minho was in the lead now and Cassandra ran in pace beside him, staying close by his side. Always by his side, since probably the day she laid eyes on him if her memories were any hint. Her mind wandered, as her feet steadily stomped against the hard stone floor, whether fate actually existed. It was such a silly notion, something hopeless romantics or starry-eyed idealists would believe in. Yet she wondered at the possibility of it, clung to the thread of hope that bound them together despite everything that they had been through.

Surviving a barren world that had gone mad, surviving WICKED, and now the Maze. Will they ever catch a break?

They stopped and she took the opportunity to catch her breath, inhaling deeply through her nose. Minho raised a hand up to signal for the rest to do the same and they waited on him as he turned around with a look of apprehension on his face.

"Do you hear that?" he whispered.

"No, but I smell it," Cassandra replied.

He edged towards the corner, the last turn that led towards the Cliff, and peered around it before pulling back with a pained expression. "Oh, no," he moaned. "Oh, shucking, no."

"What?" Newt questioned.

"There're at least a dozen of 'em. Maybe fifteen—all waiting for us."

"Maybe they've taken a kid back at the Glade," Thomas suggested. "Maybe we can get past—"

A loud shriek cut him off from the direction they had just came from. A group of Grievers skittered down the corridor heading straight at them, their claws digging into the ground and leaving tiny indents with their metal spikes glinting through the air.

From the other end of the corridor, another group of Grievers had swarmed upwards to meet them. The Gladers drew back into a tight formation and Cassandra inched backwards so that when she looked behind her shoulder, she could see into the open intersection leading towards the Cliff where the third group of monsters whirred and pulsated in wait. She gripped her spear tightly, eyes wide and locked onto the disgusting creatures as they stopped at the end of each corridor. They were surrounded.

"Any ideas?" Thomas asked after a while.

"No," Newt replied. "What are they bloody waiting for?"

"We shouldn't have come," Alby said, his voice hollow. He didn't look like the boy she had vehemently despised anymore, just an empty shell of the leader they once looked up to. "Maybe...maybe I should..."

He took a step forward into the corridor that led to the Cliff. Cassandra's eyes widened just as Newt called out to him but Alby didn't hear him—or maybe he couldn't. He just took off, running headlong into the swarm of Grievers.

"ALBY!" Newt screamed beside her.

Cassandra didn't register it in her brain, couldn't comprehend that he was racing to his own death. The Grievers grabbed him with their metal pincers, crushing him and tearing him apart limb from limb until he was nothing more than a smear of blood on the rough stone. Alby was gone, just like that, and she didn't know how to feel about it except for a numbness that seeped into her bones.

Thomas struggled with Newt, holding on to him so he wouldn't go after his friend and die the same gruesome death. The boy finally collapsed to the ground, staring blankly at the spot where he'd seen Alby disappear. "I...I can't believe..." His voice shook pitifully. Remorse stabbed her, only for the misery in Newt's eyes.

They helped steady him back to his feet and Minho squeezed his shoulder. "We can't waste what he did. We'll fight 'em if we have to, make a path for Thomas and Teresa. You two get into the Hole and do your thing—we'll keep 'em off till you scream for us to follow."

Thomas nodded. "Hopefully they'll go dormant for a while. It should only take us a minute to punch in the code."

"How can you be so heartless?" Newt suddenly spat at them.

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

"I-I'm sorry, Newt." Cassandra swallowed, knowing that was all she could offer.

"Alby didn't wanna go back to his old life," Minho went on. "He sacrificed himself for us and the Grievers aren't attacking so maybe it worked." He then turned to face the others. "Okay, listen up, guys! Number one priority is to protect Thomas and Teresa. Get them to the Cliff and—"

The sound of engines revving to life surrounded them on all sides and the creatures stirred, picking themselves up once more to unfurl their metal appendages. Their bodies rolled and oozed as they started towards them, the clicking of their claws against the ground and the whirring of gears, combined with the shrieks of bloodlust, bounced off the walls horrendously.

"It didn't work!" Cassandra yelled. "Brace yourselves!"

Thomas grabbed hold of her arm with a look of utter panic then turned to Minho as well. "We need to go through that!" He pointed at the squirming mass in front of them. They exchanged glances.

"They're coming!" Teresa screamed. "We have to do something now!"

"You lead," Newt whispered to Minho. "Cut a bloody path for 'em. Do it."

Minho nodded once then glanced at Cassandra and saw the determination on her face. He raised his club with biting resolve. "Make for the Cliff!" he yelled. "Fight through the middle! Push the shucking things to the walls and remember, get Thomas and Teresa to the Hole!"

Cassandra could only hope the others had heard him over the pandemonium approaching them. She rearranged her pack and the bow over her shoulders, then gripped her spear tightly with both hands.

"Ready!" Minho yelled beside her and she closed her eyes to take a steadying breath, ignoring the knot in her stomach, the tremor in her arms and the painful drumming of her heart against her chest. "Now!"

She snapped her eyelids open and ran forward with Minho, hearing the roar behind her as the Gladers stepped up to take on the impossible challenge. She left all her thoughts behind and met the first Griever with a clang of metal against metal, screaming as she ducked her head from the saw that flew her way and drove the tip of her spear as far as she could, pushing the creature to the side with all her strength.

Boys ran past her in a stream of yells, clash of steel and splinter of wood. Burnt oil and sweat filled her nose as she dodged to the side, releasing a hand on her spear and drawing a knife to ram it deep into the top of the Griever's head. It screeched, the sound almost deafening her, and she pulled her weapon out from its grasp.

The point of her spear seared through greyed skin, through the soft tissue of its abdomen, right through to the back. With a grunt, Cassandra pulled it out and a wave of thick yellow goo burst forth into her face, almost making her retch. She stumbled away as the Griever shrieked and started to convulse on the stone ground.

Cassandra wiped the putrid liquid from her face with her sleeve and watched as red dots of light flashed across its eyes. And she realised—the Grievers ran on fuel. She grabbed her bow and knocked an arrow into place, then sent one flying across the corridor into the neck of a Griever that was bearing down on Archie. It reared onto its hind legs and the boy threw himself out of harm's way.

Turning around, she found Minho had just made his Griever explode after seeing what she had done. They exchanged smirks and he yelled to the others, "Aim for their middle!"

He sped off to help another Glader and Cassandra continued to aim her arrows. Screams of help echoed all around her and she was lost amidst the chaos of it all, turning from left to right, dodging and parrying.

Suddenly something slammed into her from the side and she felt the wind knocked out of her. She looked up in shock and saw a face sneering down—Andy. His eyes were filled with hatred and maybe madness.

"Where's your boyfriend to protect you now?" he mocked. "Always so protected because you were the only girl."

Disgust etched itself across her features as she scowled back, angry and annoyed that he would attack her when there were freaking Grievers all around them.

"I don't need protecting, you jerk," she growled and smashed her elbow into the side of his head as hard as she could.

The boy swayed to the side from the blow and she kicked him off her, throwing his body to the side with a loud grunt. He scrambled to his feet, glaring at her with so much malice she didn't think was actually possible. Then a Griever swooped down on him, a blade slashing through his back, and picked him up with its pincers like a rag doll before flinging him to the side. She saw his head crack against the wall but there wasn't any time to gape as the creature chose her as its next victim.

She rolled away, picking up a blade from the ground and lunged forwards again. They met with a loud clang and she knocked its knife-arm away, then rolling again to the side to avoid another with an axe. She threw a knife, aiming for one of its motors where it jammed itself between the gears. There was a sputter and taking the opportunity, she jabbed her blade into its abdomen, twisting it to the side before pulling out.

Then she ran away, not even bothering to check if she had actually killed it or not. She saw Newt had pinned a Griever against the wall up ahead with his spear, ducking in a spot where its appendages couldn't reach him. Cassandra rushed forwards and sliced through its belly before collapsing to the ground, narrowly missing the saw that went soaring through the air where her neck had been a second ago.

"Hey, Cass." The blonde looked at her with a grin. "Thanks."

She pulled herself away from the Griever twitching in the throes of its death and leaned against the wall. Her lungs strained from all the oxygen that she needed and she weakly reached for her bow again but her body was spent. She heard Clint's voice screaming from somewhere nearby and Frypan was hacking his cleaver through the head of a Griever.

"When the hell...is the freaking code going to work?" she grounded out through her teeth.

"There's a Griever going into the Hole!" Newt yelped and pointed. "And another one!"

"Thomas and Teresa!" She scrambled forwards but her legs wouldn't cooperate and she fell to the ground again with a jolt. "Where's Minho?!"

She saw Lee on the opposite side of the corridor, battling a Griever with furious tenacity. He ducked and swatted back its arms with fluid movements, as if he did it for a living. Then he thrust his knife into its middle with a flourish, slashing a large jagged gash across and the Griever shrieked as it crumpled down in a flood of yellow liquid.

"It's taking too bloody long!" Newt yelled. "Maybe we should—"

A collective beep resounded all around them at once and in unison, the Grievers froze. The shrieks and screams, the revving engines, the clang of steel—everything, fell into a dead silence. They looked around with wide-eyed hope, waiting to make sure that the Grievers had actually shut down. That Thomas and Teresa had done it at last.

Then a movement caught Cassandra's eye; the Griever that Lee had just killed was still twitching uncontrollably. She yelled for him to watch out but he had his back turned and a large blade sunk itself through the middle of his torso. His eyes widened in surprise and he coughed up blood.

"Lee!" she screamed, scrambling forwards on all fours across the width of the corridor. The Griever finally halted and the boy dropped to his knees, half of the giant blade sliding out of his chest. "No, no, no," she cried as she reached him and pressed her hands against the gaping wound as he collapsed to the ground.

"C-Cass...." he choked, blood trickling down the corner of his mouth. "Just...go. It's fine."

"Stop talking!" she yelled with hands stained crimson. "Please..."

"Look after...them," he rasped. "Look after...Minho..."

He drew in a shuddering breath and then laid still, his eyes frozen in a glazed stare. She screamed and shook him, beating her fists wildly against his chest. Then someone was grabbing her from behind, dragging her away from his body.

"Cassie, stop." Minho turned her around and held her face between his hands. "Cassie! It's over!"

Only loud sobs filled the air as tears flowed freely down her face. She had shut her eyes tight, terrified to take in the scene of the aftermath. Minho's arms were wrapped around her and she felt his arms wrapped around her. Her hand automatically went up to touch him, smearing blood on his cheek.

Minho. She dared to open her eyes. He was alive, breathing and whole, despite the cuts that now lined his skin and clothes. A fresh wave of sobs wracked through her body as she hugged him back tightly.

"Cassie, let's go," he coaxed. "Into the Hole. We need to check on them, find out what's goin' on. We can't stay here."

Choking back another sob, she forced herself to nod and he pulled her up to a stand. She kept her gaze straight ahead to the empty void that was the Cliff as they walked over to it. There were vines dangling in mid-air, some attached to the Cliff face, stretching along the pale grey sky with nothing to suspend them.

"I'll go first," Minho said just as Newt came up behind her. She heard more footsteps approach to join them.

He braced himself on the edge of the precipice and jumped, his feet disappeared then the rest of him. She merely stared at the spot until Newt prodded her back with a finger and she stepped forward. Cassandra took a deep breath and flung herself at the Hole. It was like slipping through a thin sheet of ice before her feet hit the ground. Minho caught her as she staggered forwards and she looked up to find Thomas, Teresa and Chuck huddled tightly together.

She leaned back in relief against the wall of some kind of tunnel. It was dark save for a faint green glow from the computer screen and Teresa's flashlight. She could see the outlines of dead Grievers in front of them.

"Are you guys okay?" Thomas shouted. "What about the others?"

"We lost a ton of guys," Minho replied. "It was a bloodbath up there before the Grievers shut down. I still can't believe it worked."

Then Newt fell down and Cassandra reached out to grab hold of him before he could stumble and trip over. Frypan came next, then Winston, and the rest of the boys. Half of their numbers when they had started out from the Glade.

"The rest...?" Thomas asked, looking up at the Hole as if more would come. There wouldn't.

"Dead," Newt simply said.

Cassandra didn't want to think about it, she wanted out. Now. She wanted to get as far away from this place as she possibly could. But nobody moved, or even spoke, for a long time until Minho stirred.

"Half of us might have died," he said. "But half of us shucking lived and we didn't get stung. Now let's get out of here."

"Right now," Cassandra said.

"Right bloody now," Newt grunted in agreement.

"So where do we go?" Minho peered through the dark.

"I heard the door open from that way." Thomas pointed towards the opposite end of the tunnel.

"Well, let's go." The Runner turned and walked in the direction with Cassandra right behind him. Newt went after, motioning for the others to follow and Thomas took up the rear of the line.

Darkness continued to lie ahead and Cassandra held on to the back of Minho's shirt as he led them. Only a minute had passed when he suddenly lurched forwards and she instantly tightened her hold on him, only to be pulled down as well. Her piercing screams echoed all the way up the slide until she slammed into Minho's back with a strangled cry.

"Are you guys okay?!" Newt shouted from the top, his voice faint but the panic was evident.

"Yeah, we're fine!" Minho yelled back.

They stood up, wiping the thick goo off their skin in disgust, then turned to look around them. They were in a giant laboratory with all sorts of machinery and white pods. There were windows lining the chamber with men and women watching them from within, their faces pinched with calculative eyes. Pens glided across notebooks in their laps as they observed them hungrily. Cassandra stared in mute horror, as did Minho, and the next few minutes were spent in apprehensive silence as they waited for the others to come down.

"Look!" someone finally shouted, and everyone turned their gazes to the front. The group shrank away from the observation windows.

"Who are they?" Chuck whispered in a tiny frightened voice.

"The Creators." Minho punched his fist into his palm. "I'm gonna break your shuck faces!"

Then a loud beep echoed around them, repeating itself and growing into a blaring alarm. A swish was audible from a corner of the chamber and Cassandra turned to look as a set of doors opened. The alarm stopped when two people walked in—one was a woman with short brown hair wearing a white uniform with the letters 'WICKED' emblazoned on the breast pocket and the other was a boy in an oversized hoodie.

"Welcome back," the woman said. "Over two years, and so few dead. Amazing."

"Excuse me?" Newt asked venomously.

"Everything has gone according to plan, Mr. Newton." Her eyes scanned the group of teenagers in front of her. "Although we expected more to give up along the way."

Then she reached up and pulled down the hood of the boy next to her. There was a collective gasp as every Glader finally discovered his identity. Cassandra felt her jaw drop at the incredulity of their entire situation.

Gally was back again.

"What's he doing here?!" Minho angrily yelled.

"You're safe now," the woman told them. "Please, be at ease."

"At ease?!" Minho snarled. "Who the shuck are you to tell us to be at ease? We wanna see the police, the mayor, the president—whoever's in charge!"

"You have no idea what you're saying, boy. I expect more maturity from somebody who passed the Maze Trials." Her tone became clipped and condescending.

The woman merely stared back at them with narrowed eyes. "One day you will understand, and then you will be grateful for what we have done. I can only promise this, and if your minds do not accept this, then it was all a mistake."

"It was a mistake," Cassandra whispered.

"Gally?" Newt called. "What's going on?"

The boy shook his head, a mere jerk from right to left, and his eyes widened as his body started to tremble all over. "There is one final Variable, however." The woman took a step back.

Cassandra could see the strain in Gally's body, the twitch of his hands and his lips opened as if he was trying to tell them something. "T-they..." he finally choked out in a low gravelly voice, "can control...me...I have...to..."

His hands flew to his throat and he croaked once before his body relaxed once more. Cassandra's eyes widened in horror at what was happening before them, at the chilling familiarity. Then the boy pulled out a knife from his back pocket and before any of them could react, he threw it in their direction.

Minho pulled her aside but the knife wasn't heading towards them. It soared through the air, a whole two feet to her right, and she heard a shout from behind. She stood rooted to the spot, her gaze set resolutely in front of her, as someone screamed. A cascade of icy dread washed over her, sending goose bumps rising over every inch of her skin.

"Chuck!" She heard Thomas' anguished wail. "No, Chuck! Hang on! Someone get help!"

Then a small cough, filled with blood. "Thomas. Find my...mom. Tell her..."

A laboured wheeze, and silence. Her hands trembled. Someone rushed past, a blur of dark hair and blue, flying into Gally, knocking him to the ground. Her heart hammered. Thomas, punching the living daylights out of him, bone cracking against bone. Her stomach churned. Newt and Minho running forwards a moment later, grabbing him, pulling him away, as he screamed and flailed his fists in the air.

The grief.

"I promised him! I promised I'd take him home!"

The world shattering.

This scene never fails to make me sad ):