Disclaimer:

I do not own The Maze Runner, and that's why I have to watch interviews instead.

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I found myself taking a step back, bumping into Newt as I did so. He placed a hand on my shoulder protectively. A deathly, still silence swept over every last Glader like words and breath had been sucked out of us. One of the scientists scribbled something on a clipboard, while another tapped a pen against their arm. They all wore pristine lab coats over white shirts and pants with gaunt expressions on their faces.

"Who are those people?" Chuck asked in a whisper that boomed throughout the area.

"The Creators," Minho answered, then promptly spat on the floor. "I'm gonna break your faces!" he screamed loudly enough that pain shot through my ears and caused me to wince. It also didn't help that he was only a foot away from me.

"What do we do?" Thomas questioned quietly. "What are they waiting on?"

"They've probably revved the Grievers back up," Newt surmised anxiously, pulling me a little closer. "They're probably coming right--"

A sudden loud, long beep cut him off. It came from all directions, powerful and forceful as it rang in my ears. I reached up to cover them. It was no use, and I retracted them after a few seconds.

"What now?" Chuck asked with fright evident in his small voice. Most heads turned to Thomas, who shrugged.

"Nothing," I replied miserably. "We can't do anything." I swallowed nervously, feeling my stomach buzz. "We're stuck."

A movement from out of the corner of my eye caused me to turn my head. The glass door against the far wall opened wide, revealing the hellish storm outside. Lightning lit up the sky with blinding white flashes; thunder crackled through the air.

My body tensed instinctively for what was to come. My heart thudded; it always seemed to be doing so, pumping blood through my veins and making my hands clammy.

I was very surprised and even a little relieved when two people came inside.

One was a woman with dull chocolate-colored hair that hung limply around her thin face. Her dark eyes seemed large, with stress lines littering the area around them. She wore white pants and a shirt of the same color with wicked on the breast pocket- no acronym, just the word in blue capital letters. There was an impassive expression on her face as she walked stiffly toward us, almost like she didn't notice us. She stopped several feet away and carefully examined us from left to right.

The other stood next to her. They wore a dark sweatshirt that swallowed most of their body up. The hood was pulled over their face, hidden by the shadows.

"Welcome back," the woman greeted without emotion. "Over two years, and so few dead. Amazing."

I felt my jaw drop and my heart pumped blood to my face, reddening it in anger. My cold fists clenched at my sides as I strained to remain calm.

Newt's grip on my shoulder tightened and his jaw locked, eyes blazing with fury and disbelief. "Excuse me?"

The lady's intimidating gaze scanned over us again until they found Newt. He slipped his hand from my shoulder to around my waist, bringing me to his side. The woman's lip twitched, almost as if she were about to display some form of emotion.

"Everything has gone according to plan, Mr. Newton," she said in that same tone of unbearable negligence. "Although we expected a few more of you to give up along the way."

She glanced at the person beside her. Her nimble hand reached out and pulled the hood away. Slowly, his chin turned up to reveal shining brown eyes wet with tears. Every Glader sucked in a gasp of surprise. My knees buckled.

Gally.

No. No, Impossible. Gally died. I watched him--

A sudden realization caused me to stiffen. Maybe he never actually died. He had just been pulled into the Griever, carried along into the Maze. But why? Why only do that with him? What did they need him specifically for?

"What's he doing here?!" Minho shouted, voice full of raw anger and eyes narrowed.

"You're safe now," the woman assured. She seemed completely unfazed by the Runner's outburst. "Please, be at ease."

"At ease?" Minho barked sharply, shaking with rage. "Who are you, telling us to be at ease? We wanna see the police, the mayor, the president— somebody!"

She glared. "You have no idea what you're talking about, boy. I'd expect more maturity from someone who's passed the Maze Trials."

"Maturity?" I found myself scoffing before I could stop. "You stuck us in a Maze for two years without any recollection of the outside world, half of us just died, and you expect us not to be angry and respect you?"

Newt whispered, "Dyl—"

But the lady's small, humorless chuckle cut him off. "You've always had a lot of spunk— never knowing when to restrain yourself."

A fresh burst of flaming anger burned inside of me, filling up my insides and sending smoke out of my ears. Minho was about to fire a retort, but Newt elbowed him in the ribs.

"Gally," Newt said cautiously. "What's going on?"

The boy's eyes flared for a second. He shook his head slightly and didn't respond. There was something off about Gally. He always had something to say; this knew, foreign silence filled me with unease.

The woman nodded with pride. "One day you'll all be grateful for what we've done for you. I can only promise this, and trust your minds to accept it. If you don't, then this whole thing was a mistake. Dark times, Mr. Newton. Dark times." She paused. "There is, of course, one final Variable."

She stepped back, seeming to purposely ignore Gally. The boy's entire body trembled and his face was a pale, pasty white slick with sweat. His sealed and chapped lips moved awkwardly like he was trying to speak, but couldn't get the sentence out.

"Gally?" Thomas asked, having noticed the way his mouth twitched.

Words burst from Gally's mouth as it flew open. "They...can control me...I don't-" His eyes grew to the size of planets and a hand went to his throat as if he were choking. "I ... have .... to ..." Each word came out in a strangled cough. Then he went still, his body relaxing.

Something about it was eerie. I was instantly on edge at the occurrence— Gally's emotions had switched too quickly to be realistic. He had been trying to tell us something. W.I.C.K.E.D could control him?

Gally reached behind his back and pulled out a long, shining dagger. Light glinted off the weapon and streaked down the blade, causing sheer terror to run through my veins. With surprising speed, he pulled his arm back and released the knife at Thomas.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. One minute I was standing next to Newt, legs like lead and my heart dropping into my stomach. The next, I was running toward my brother. My limbs were moving slowly like I was swimming through syrup. I couldn't feel my feet hitting the ground. It felt like I'd never reach him, that I'd just be stuck struggling forever.

But Chuck got there first. He dove in front of Thomas, the only thing that seemed to occur at regular speed. The instant the blade embedded itself into his chest, the world returned to its normality and I was moving too quickly for my body to handle. My legs gave out from shock and I landed hard on the ground, knees slamming into the tile at Chuck's side.

I didn't know what to do. The boy was screaming, crimson blood pouring from the wound and puddling onto the floor. His body convulsed violently, feet thrashing about with the waves of immense pain that hit him. He coughed up blood, splattering it onto his chapped lips.

My hands shook like earthquakes were rippling from under my skin. Tears were already falling from my eyes; sobs racked my body and jumbled up my thoughts. I felt so helpless, so useless in the situation. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know.

I had promised Chuck that he could count on me, and now I was going to fail him.

Thomas fell to the ground on the side opposite me, pulling Chuck into his arms.

"Chuck!" he screamed, voice ripping his throat raw. "Chuck!"

The smaller boy's body was still shaking, blood staining Thomas' skin and clothes. A hand flew up to my mouth to stifle the scream that threatened to come out when I saw that his eyes were rolled into the back of his head.

"Chuck..." Thomas whispered, tears leaking out of his eyes.

Chuck stopped moving and his body stilled. His eyes slid back into normal position and I rushed closer, taking his small hand in mine.

"Tho...mas," he managed to struggle out. "Dyl-lan."

Tears cascaded down my face and a hiccuping sob bubbled from my throat. I couldn't bear this pain that was squeezing my heart and threatening to make it burst.

"Hang on, Chuck," Thomas begged, stumbling over his words. "Don't die- fight it!"

"We're right here," I soothed through my cries, letting my other hand rest on his curls. My hand squeezed his. And with immense effort, Chuck squeezed back.

"Thomas, Dylan," he mumbled. "Find ... my mom." A heavy cough burst from his lungs, splattering more blood onto his lips. "Tell her..."

He never finished. His eyelids closed, his hand went limp in mine. The last breath he took replayed in my head over and over like my brain wanted me to physically break.

I went completely still. My body was filled with numbing shock that hollowed out my insides. I barely saw Thomas set Chuck down, let out an enraged yell, then run at Gally. My eyes locked on the boy with blood still leaking from the knife still stuck in his chest.

"Chuck?" I asked just above a whisper, finally able to speak. I wasn't sure why I was even saying it - I knew he was really gone - but something about it instilled the slightest amount of hope in me. My mind broke free of the stillness it had been frozen in and I felt myself shaking. My voice rose to a pained shout. "Chuck!"

As I screamed his name over and over as if it would somehow bring him back to life, someone sat down beside me. Their arms wrapped around my middle and pulled me into their lap. I pushed them away, trying to rid anyone of the bomb inside of me that was about to blow, but they held on with frustrating stubbornness.

I let myself cry into Newt's chest. It was slightly relieving to wash my eyes of all the death they had seen that day. Waves of hurt and despair crashed through me, dragging me under their depths and causing me to scream. All of the feelings bouncing around in me at once were unbearable, bruising my ribs, my heart, and anything else they could reach.

Newt held me close to him, allowing me to curl my fists around his shirt and let all my pent-up sadness ruin the fabric. His fingers trembled slightly against my back. I could feel his tears against my skin as he buried his face into my neck.

In the background, Thomas was screaming with fiery rage and complete fury. He had snapped. Literally snapped. I couldn't hear what he was doing, but I knew it was most likely bad and involved Gally.

It seemed like years later when I was finally able to calm down. I pulled away from Newt, wiping my damp face and forcing myself not to look at Chuck's lifeless body that lay just a few feet away from us. Newt pushed himself to a standing position and helped me up as well. We both turned back to the others, who wore looks of grief on their faces.

The woman broke the heavy silence.

"All things happen for a reason," she said, voice back to that annoying, emotionless tone. "You must understand this."

My head turned slowly toward her. I threw as much hatred and malice into the glare as I could, staring her down with such intense anger that I envisioned lasers come out of my eyes.

A sudden series of shouts and commotion came from outside. The woman panicked, face paling as she turned toward the door. The rest of us copied her action.

Men and women dressed in grimy, baggy jeans and soaked coats burst through the entrance with their guns raised to shoot. They screamed and yelled words over one another; it was impossible to make out what they were saying. One of them tackled the woman from W.I.C.K.E.D. Another raised their gun.

The familiar feeling of reeling fear shook me to the core.

Flashes lit up the room as four shots fired from the rifle, landing in the woman's body. She died instantly.

One of the men approached us as the others shot at the glass between us and the other scientists. Screams broke through the chaos, blood sprayed walls and coated the white. The man coming toward us had sandy blond hair and wrinkled skin that made him appear older than he probably was.

"We don't have time to explain," the man said, voice raspy like he had smoked a thousand cigarettes within his lifetime. "Just follow me and run like your life depends on it. Because it does."

Not like I haven't done that before, I managed to think through the bedlam crowding my brain. I wasn't very surprised that that was the only thought I could make sense of.

The man turned and motioned to a few of his companions, then ran through the exit doors, gun held stiffly in his arms.

"Go!" one of the people screamed from behind.

And so we did. Instantly, I was nearly swallowed in the rush to get out of the chamber, away from the Maze and W.I.C.K.E.D itself. Newt's hand locked into mine and tugged me along with him outside.

It was strange to feel rain. It soaked me to the bone the exact moment I stepped foot out the door. The sky was completely black as it downpoured. I couldn't see a thing, but luckily the guns had lights on them and they led the way.

The leader pushed against the water pouring down on us until we reached a beat-up bus. The sides were dented, cracks lining the windows like spider webs. It rocked slightly with the force of the rain.

"Get on!" The man ordered loudly above the howl of the storm. "Hurry!"

We managed to form a single-file line at the mouth of the doors. It seemed to take forever to board, Gladers pushing and shoving each other to get inside.

Newt and I were near the middle of the line and were quick to get on. My shoes squeaked and slipped on the rubber lining the steps. I bolted up them and broke into the aisle, wiping the warm water from my eyes so I could see. Seats were packed from left to right, two per row on one side. I hurried as fast as I could to the first empty one I could find.

Newt plopped down beside me, pushing his dripping wet hair out of his face. He blinked several times and wrung out his jacket. A waterfall seemed to drip from it.

I directed my gaze toward the window, but I couldn't see past the storm and thick cracks. A few droplets sneaked inside through them. My eyes followed as they ran down the battered glass.

The bus doors slammed shut, signaling that everyone was on board and seated. I attempted to look around for Thomas, Teresa, Minho, or Theo, but I couldn't see over the number of people inside. With a sigh, I sat back down and leaned against the worn leather.

Newt stared at his hands without blinking. "We're out."

I nodded. "Yeah."

But there was a large price to pay for the freedom we had.

gif is newt because it breaks my heart every time

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this chapter made me so v sad :((

holy crap i'm almost at the end??? what is life???

questions:

-How much do you miss Chuck?

that's all i can think of because i'm sick and sad

-kristyn