Disclaimer:

Hey, guys, Kristyn's ghost speaking. She just saw The Scorch Trials and it was too much for her fragile heart. RIP in peace

JUST KIDDING IT'S GONNA TAKE A LOT MORE THAN THAT TO TAKE ME DOWN HA WES BALL

-✼-

I wasn't sure what I felt. I probably should've been angry at Thomas for doing this to them, to me, to us, but a part of me always just...knew. Enough suitable evidence had been presented to me; it wasn't hard to put two and two together.

My face mixed in with all the other blank stares that surrounded Thomas. Beads of sweat that sprinkled on his forehead and the way he rubbed his hands together gave away his nerves. For a brief moment, his eyes met mine, and he appeared genuinely terrified that I had no external reaction to his confession. A simple twitch of my lip and a whisper of, "It's okay," washed the horror right off of his face.

Newt was the first to actually break the silence, his voice cutting through it crisply. "What are you talking about?"

Thomas shifted uneasily. "Well, there's something I have to share. About me and Teresa. There's a reason Gally accused me of so much stuff, and why everyone who's gone through the Changing recognizes me." Silence as he paused to regain his breath. "Teresa and I are...different. We were part of the Maze Trials from the very beginning- but against our will, I swear."

Minho spoke slowly, cautiously, as if approaching a large supernova of information that was about to explode in his face. "Thomas, what're you talking about?"

"Teresa and I were used by the Creators. If you all had your full memories back, you'd probably want to kill us. But I had to tell you this myself to show you we can be trusted now. So you'll believe me when I tell you the only way we can get out of here."

Another haunting pause. The room was filled with anxious tension as we waited for the enigma to unfold. Thomas swept his gaze across the room. He showed an astonishing amount of forbearance.

"Teresa and I helped design the Maze. We helped create the whole thing."

All the Keepers were so silent that they didn't appear to breathe. Clint, who sat beside me, went stiff as a board.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Newt demanded as he tried to grapple what Thomas had told us. "You're a bloody sixteen-year-old. How could you have created the Maze?"

Thomas was struggling to grasp onto memories that were hanging on by a painfully thin thread. "We were...smart. And I think that might be a part of the Variables."

"Dylan seems awfully calm over there," Winston sneered, the accusation in his voice as clear as the acne on his face. He was leaning over to see around everyone else with his dark eyes squinted in suspicion. "How do we know she didn't help, too?"

"She didn't," Thomas affirmed calmly, sounding totally confident in himself. His voice never shook and he didn't stammer.

"You could be covering for her," Winston cut in sharply. His tone grew decibels louder with every syllable.

"Shut up!" Thomas yelled, hands gripping the sides of his seat angrily until his knuckles turned white. "I'm not finished. Teresa and I have a...gift that made us very valuable as they designed and built this place.

I felt the uneasy nerves again. Questions popped up in my mind fervently and refused to clear away. What did they have that the rest of us didn't?

"Speak!" Newt yelled eagerly. "Spit it out!"

"We're telepathic! We can speak to each other in our heads!" Thomas' voice grew to a shout louder than Newt's until it was almost a scream. He paused for breath before continuing. "But listen to me. They forced us to help. I don't know how or why, but they did. Maybe it was to see if we could gain your trust despite having been a part of them. Maybe we were meant all along to be the ones to reveal how to escape. Whatever the reason, with your Maps we figured the code and we need to use it now."

A surprising emotion filled me- hurt. Maybe I was being possessive. Maybe I was being selfish. But I suddenly felt close to angry that someone else had a closer connection with Thomas than I did. He and Teresa both had abilities beyond anything the rest of us could ever accomplish.

Thomas and I were two parts of the same soul, but he and Teresa would always be closer.

My brother was oblivious to the look on my face. His wandering eyes stopped after Minho, who was smiling for whatever reason. Now Thomas seemed to be seeing elsewhere, past any of us. "It's true, and I'm sorry. But I can tell you this- I'm in the same boat with you now. Teresa and I were sent here just like anyone else, and we can die just as easily. But the Creators have seen enough- it's time for the final test. I guess I needed the Changing to add the final pieces of the puzzle. Anyway, I wanted to know the truth, to know there's a chance we can do this."

Newt stared at a single spot on the floor and shook his head. Then he looked up, eyes drifting over the Keepers and I. "The Creators- those shanks did this to us, not Tommy and Teresa. The Creators. And they'll be sorry."

The Creators. Newt addressing them with that name triggered the memory of the red acronym. I knew I had to tell them that the people who sent us here had a name to call them by, but now wasn't the time. Thomas was feeding us important information and me saying that would cause everyone to rupture from confusion. I had to wait.

"Whatever," Minho scoffed impatiently, "who gives a klunk about all that? Just get on with the escape already."

"There's a computer system in a place we've never looked before. The code will open a door for us to get out of the Maze. It also shuts down the Grievers so they can't follow us- if we can just survive long enough to get to that point."

"A place we've never looked before?" Alby questioned incredulously. "What do you think we've been doing for two years?"

Thomas shook his head. "Trust me, you've never been to this spot."

Minho stood up. "Well, where is it?"

"It's almost suicide," Thomas continued, and I almost groaned at how amazing he was at beating around the bush. "The Grievers will come after us whenever we try to do it. All of them. The final test."

"Just say it, will you?" I exclaimed, exasperated to the point where I wasn't sure how much longer I could take it. All that Thomas was saying to avoid saying it was driving me crazy. I wished he would just cut to the chase and stop making us wait.

So that's what he did.

"Over the Cliff. We have to go through the Griever Hole."

Honestly, I would've laughed at the name again if I wasn't so astonished. My body completely froze and my infuriated expression turned into one of utter, soul-capturing shock. He had to be kidding.

Alby stood so quickly that his chair fell over with a large thud. The white bandage on his forehead made his pink, bloodshot eyes all the more prominent against his dark skin. My heart sped up as he took two steps forward like he was going to full-on tackle Thomas then and there. He stopped, deciding against it.

"Now you're being a shuck idiot," he growled with narrowed eyes. "Or a traitor. How can we trust a word you say if you helped design this place, put us here! We can't handle one Griever on our own ground, much less fight a whole hoard of them in their little hole. What are you really up to?"

Thomas' face morphed into a scowl. "What am I up to? Nothing! Why would I make all this up?"

Alby's arms flexed and stiffened. "For all we know you were sent here to get us all killed. Why should we trust you?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Through my shock, the vexation broke through and I jumped to my feet as well. "I'll tell you why! Thomas and I went out in the Maze as shucking Newbies to save your dying butt - you're incredibly welcome for that - and worked our butts off to save your life! We've done nothing but help you, and now that you're getting what you've wanted all along, you're acting out of fear because you can't believe it. That all this time, you've been searching far and wide when the answer was right in front of you."

The corners of Alby's mouth twitched at my words. His fists were clenched so tightly they shook as he whirled around to face me. In his cloud of anger, he looked much taller, bigger, and stronger than usual. I felt more small than usual under his furious and electric stare.

"And you!" he shouted, jabbing a finger at me. "You, comin' up and acting so mighty because you were the first girl in this place. News flash- you aren't God, you don't know everything, so shut your shuck mouth for once!"

"Alby!" Newt shouted in surprise, eyes the size of small planets and jaw slightly dropped. He looked like someone had just stabbed him in the back. "Calm down!"

But he didn't. The Glade's leader flickered his gaze between my brother and I like a bull deciding which person to toss into the air first. Short pants flared his nostrils. "Maybe this was all a trick so they could get us to trust them. Maybe it was all an act."

"Alby," Minho finally spoke, voice much calmer than anyone else's. "That's about the dumbest theory I've ever heard. Thomas just about got freaking torn apart three nights ago. You think that's part of the act?"

Again, Alby used his favorite word. "Maybe."

"I did it," Thomas threw all the annoyance he could into his voice, "on the chance that I could get my memories back, remember my sister, help all of us get out of here. Do I need to show you the cuts and bruises all over my body?"

Alby didn't speak. His face still quivered with rage and his eyes started to water. "We can't go back! I've seen what our lives were like- we can't go back!"

"Is that what this is about?" Newt asked, eyebrows pinched in confusion and frustration. "Are you kidding?"

Alby then turned on him fiercely and held up a fist. Just as he was about to speak again, he lowered his arm and sank back into his chair. He lowered his head and the dam broke. The entire room was silent except for Alby's muffled cries.

I felt that kind of shock you feel when you're infuriated with someone and figure out the true reasoning behind their frustration. It encased my entire heart and wouldn't let me move; I was rooted to my spot. My feet were glued to the floor. The surprise felt like static in my muscles.

"Alby, talk to us," Newt urged softly. "What's going on?"

"I did it," Alby confessed through a hard sob. "I did it."

"Did what?" Newt asked., confused

Alby looked up. The tear tracks were apparent on his cheeks. "I burned the Maps. I did it. I slammed my head on the table so you'd think it was someone else, I lied, I burned it all. I did it!"

The room fell completely silent again after his confession. I stood, rigid, in front of my chair, unable to move. I tried to imagine what had been going through Alby's mind at that moment of fear. Setting fire to the Maps. Coughing as black smoke quickly filled the room. Slamming my own head on a table. What could have been so awful about our past lives that he went to such an extent?

And then my body started to shake. At first it was a steady tremble that I assumed was caused by how stunned I was, but then goosebumps prickled my skin and my vision swam. Hundreds of images flashed before my eyes. Zombie-like humans with their flesh falling off and terrible sores mutilating their skin. Fires burning everywhere. A white room. A syringe. So much information clicked together at once that it caused an unbearable pain in my head, making it thud and pound.

My knees buckled and I collapsed, holding onto my temples and crying out in flaming pain. My eyes were filling with tears at the agony. It was like someone had taken my brain in their hands and was trying to compress it, hammering and squishing it until it was mush. People and objects tuned in and out of focus in the brief breaks I had from the visions. Darkness was threatening to consume me, tempting me to fade away.

Voices blended and things turned in on one another. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the sounds and images that worsened the thumping of my head. But the blackness of my eyelids only made the memories come on stronger and more sharply. Why was this happening to me? What was this?

I was vaguely aware of someone helping me stand, and being delivered to another person. They wrapped one of my limp arms around their broad shoulders and held onto my waist securely with one hand. My feet struggled to hold me up as we stumbled outside of the room and into the dark hallway. Two words stuck in my mind among the jumbled mess of things running through my brain.

The Flare.

gif is dylan listening to thomas

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GUYS THIS BOOK IS #51 IN FANFICTION AND I HONESTLY CANT THANK YOU ENOUGH. all the incredibly supportive comments i've gotten make me so so happy. thank you for taking the time to read all these chapters and even staying up until 5 a.m to do so. you guys are insane and i love you for that

questions for you:

-why did dylan remember everything so suddenly?

-who do you think brought dylan out?

-have you seen the scorch trials yet?

-have you been pronouncing jorge's name wrong the whole time? i was.

-kristyn