Disclaimer:

Thomas: I think I did okay!

[EXPLOSION IN DISTANCE]

-✼-

A group of two hundred people was crowded in the corridor, unsure of what to do now that their leaders had vanished. I couldn't figure out where anyone was over the chaos and crowding of the survivors. My lack of height didn't help; all I could see were people's elbows, necks, and heads even as I stood on my toes to catch any glimpse of my friends. The environment was overall claustrophobic and chaotic; it made my chest feel tight with anxiety.

"Kid!" a familiar, deep voice called over the murmurs of others. My shoulders slumped in relief as Brent pushed his way through the crowd, pulling me to his side. His calculating brown eyes scanned the masses as if he was looking for something. Even though he wasn't very tall, himself, his intimidating disposition kept people from getting in his way.

"What's going on?" I asked, finding my voice hoarse. I'd done too much running and hadn't drunk any water to make up for the amount I'd lost through sweating and breathing. My short hair was plastered to my neck and forehead uncomfortably.

"They don't know where to go," Brent informed me, snatching Aris out of nowhere and keeping him close as well. "We need to stick together— who knows what these people will do?"

I gave Aris a once-over. His hair was in complete disarray, eyes half-wild from adrenaline, but otherwise, he seemed fairly stable. A few scratches cut into his face from our time in the Maze. Somehow, I found my heart aching for him— he couldn't be older than fourteen or fifteen, and the choices he'd been forced to make were enough to scar him for the rest of his life.

Kids. We were just kids.

Children, forced out of our homes or given up by our deteriorating families. Forced to forget our true selves. We'd been tested, poked, prodded, and primed for an event bigger than we could handle. Some of us had been raised only to be selectively killed off.

It was unfair— so unfair. Which was why, even after all of this, I was beginning to feel glad that the Right Arm was blowing the place to smithereens. I just wished that it wasn't happening while we were still in the building.

The crowd began to move. Brent grabbed Aris and I by the collars of our shirts and pulled us so we were flat against the wall, the rest of the people swarming past us. Several shoulders knocked into my own. Someone tripped over my foot. But we caught the attention of the other Gladers and members of Group B, and soon there was a small crowd of us letting the Immunes go first.

I quickly scanned our group. The only three missing were Thomas, Brenda, and Teresa. If the crowd was moving, that meant one of them had to be leading it, but the fact that I couldn't see them didn't help the nerves that continued to pummel my chest.

Jorge waved us along. "That's the end. Let's go!"

We seemed to move forever. The herd wound through corridors, around turn after turn, until we finally reached what had to be the maintenance room. Tidy rows of metal shelves lined the right wall. The room was stuffy, probably from the boiler shoved in a corner, and I felt my skin turn hot once again.

We only stood there for moments before Thomas pushed his way through the crowd. The relief of seeing him relatively unharmed — except for a few scrapes and bruises — was almost enough for my legs to give out. He'd survived. By some miracle, he had escaped that Griever.

"They better be quick about it up there," Minho commented with his usual amount of dry snark. "The explosions keep getting closer and closer."

Gally nodded in agreement. "The whole place is gonna fall down."

Thomas turned his head toward the ceiling as if he expected it to cave in on us right then. "I know. I told them to hurry. We'll all be out of here in—"

"Well, what do we have here?" an all-too-familiar voice drawled from the back of the room, causing my very blood to freeze in my veins.

Multiple gasps sounded as the ice inside of me melted into liquid dread. My friends and I turned to see Janson standing at the entrance to the warehouse, multiple security guards flanking him. My eyes quickly assessed them— there were seven guards in total, meaning we were still at an advantage. If Brent was right, that meant they seriously lacked hand-to-hand combat skills.

I wondered if that still applied when Maseo, the commissioner of weapons at W.I.C.K.E.D., was among them.

The man appeared relatively the same from when I last saw him in the Scorch just before I'd been taken into the Berg. The only major difference I noticed was that he appeared even more physically weaker than before, his skin even more washed of color and his long, black hair clinging to his scalp. His thin face appeared more like a skull. It was as if I was staring death itself in the face; why didn't he just give up now?

Janson cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice over the sound of another explosion. "Strange place to hide out when everything's about to come down!"

Metal fell from the ceiling as the room rumbled. My heart thumped at this distraction; we didn't have time for this.

"You know what's here!" Thomas shouted back, sounding just as exasperated as I was with the man's frequent interruptions in our plans. He'd shown his ugly face far too many times. "It's too late— we're already going!"

Janson pulled the same knife from outside and flashed it. Luckily, the blade had been cleaned of the other man's blood. Unluckily, his friends revealed similar weapons.

"But we can salvage a few," he said with a savage grin. His eyes were dark with madness, wireless frames askew on his face from when I'd stomped on his face. "And it looks like we have the strongest and brightest right here in front of us. Even our Final Candidates, no less! The ones we need most, yet refuse to cooperate."

I flashed him a crude gesture as the rest of our group spread into a line between the guards and the Immunes. My hand slipped into my back pocket where the knife was hidden. As the others searched for any potential weapons they could find— scrap metal, broken pipes, and long screws — I flicked the blade out and raised a challenging eyebrow at the nameless man across from me.

Another explosion rocked the room, sending some of the metal shelves crashing to the ground. It was evident that this place wasn't going to last much longer. We had to make this quick.

"I've never seen such a menacing bunch of thugs!" Janson yelled sarcastically, his face beet red and half-twisted with insanity. He'd truly gone off his rocker. "I have to admit I'm terrified!"

"Just shut your shuck mouth and let's get this over with!" Minho snarled back.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

Janson, in a moment that almost seemed lucid, tilted his head downward and quieted his voice. His eerie gaze was focused on the group in front of him. When he spoke, his voice was cold enough to send shivers down my spine. "Gladly."

Thomas tensed from the middle of the group. "Go!"

As if on cue, another boom detonated as we charged at the W.I.C.K.E.D guards, drowning out the battle cries. I crouched low to keep my balance. Sonya ducked into a roll beside me and popped back up to her feet. The guards themselves were also thrown off balance, giving me a slight advantage as I ran for a man who was holding onto his neighbor's shoulder to stay on his feet.

Without missing a beat, I dropped to the floor and made direct contact with the man's shin. He toppled backward and took the other guy with him. Sonya pounced on him with a piece of broken pipe, narrowly avoiding a swing of his knife that arched toward her.

The guard flailed his limbs like a turtle on its back, making it a challenge to climb on top of him. I matched his knife with mine when he attempted to slash at me. I grit my teeth as I leaned forward, pushing his arm back, my own muscles shaking from the effort it took. He was distracted enough that he didn't notice my leg was swinging until it connected with his wrist. The weapon went flying, hopefully out of his reach. I didn't waste a second before stabbing my blade into his shoulder. He cried out in agony, giving me just enough time to wrench the blade out and slash it across his neck. Blood sprayed at me. I held an arm up to block my face, recoiling with the crimson-soaked weapon still clutched in my hand.

As I lowered my arm to survey how the others were doing, I noticed Sonya bashing her opponent's head in with the pipe. Jorge sparred against a man with only a piece of sharp metal to protect himself. Gally was knocking a man senseless, which seemed to be what he did best. Brent fought Maseo himself. I wondered if they had ever been friends, and what it was costing the double agent to fight people he'd been working with for years.

I cried out as a rogue knife slashed through my left biceps. The skin tore instantly, causing blood to trickle down the three-inch-long cut that had barely missed the sleeve of my shirt. A woman had been the one to inflict the damage, but she was already in the process of being overpowered by Harriet.

"I got this!" she shouted to me, noticing that I was already moving to help. I nodded and turned just as another explosion nearly knocked me off of my feet.

My sight narrowed to a sight so horrifying that my stomach did a nauseating flip. Thomas had been fighting Janson all that time, and it certainly looked like he was winning, though at the price of his own humanity. My brother had a crazed gleam in his eyes as he pressed his thumbs into the man's windpipe. Rat Man's eyes bulged, his tongue jutting from his cracked lips.

He was already dead. Thomas wasn't stopping.

"Thomas!" I shouted above the chaos as I stumbled toward him, clutching my bleeding arm and forcing my eyes not to water from the sting. "Thomas, stop!"

Minho turned and widened his eyes at what he saw. Since Thomas wasn't comprehending my pleas, the former Runner lightly slapped him on the head with his palm to get his attention. Janson's face was colorless.

But finally, just as I reached him, Thomas blinked and turned to Minho.

"He's dead!" the black-haired boy yelled. "He's dead!"

Even as he helped Thomas to his feet, I could tell that Minho was badly shaken from what we'd both witnessed. It was like Thomas could have stayed like that for all of eternity, continuing to choke the life out of a dead man until he himself passed. I had never seen him like that. I hoped I never would again.

My brother turned to me, his eyes scanning my horrified expression. Remorse seemed to fill him for only that reason— not guilt for what he'd done, but that he was the reason for the shock on my face.

"We put them all out of commission!" Minho informed him loudly. "We need to go!"

Brenda reached my side just as two explosions rocked both sides of the maintenance room at once, shaking the structure so violently that the walls began to collapse inward. Debris filled the air, dust choking me as I inhaled it. The two of us clutched one another for balance.

I wrenched my arm from Brenda's tangled limbs to turn the dial down on my hearing aid. The sounds were deafening even without it, bombs going off one after the other, each one seemingly closer than the other. It didn't feel like I was moving. Brenda was practically pulling me along after her.

"Where's—" I turned around to see Thomas and Minho stumbling behind us.

Minho collapsed, swaying on the ground before he was able to push himself back to his feet. My eyes drifted back to my brother just in time to hear a horrible shattering sound from above. He looked up; I followed his gaze to see that a large chunk of the ceiling had cracked loose, slowly sliding from the rest of the foundation before falling down all at once.

"NO!" I screamed, already moving forward, my uncoordinated limbs failing me as another explosion caused me to slam to the ground. My knees hit the floor so hard that I gasped at the splintering plain that spread to the rest of my body, but it was little compared to the terror captivating my chest, filling it with so much sheer panic that I couldn't form a single coherent thought.

I could do nothing but watch as Teresa bodyslammed Thomas out from under the piece's vicinity and allowed it to crush her underneath its weight. The shriek of horror that tore from my throat was nothing but static to my ears. Nothing except an arm and her head jutted from the mass of concrete, blood spilling from underneath it in an ever-growing puddle.

First Chuck, then Theo, and now Teresa. Three of my closest friends— gone.

Because even as I hauled myself to my feet and stumbled toward where Thomas sat, dumbfounded, on the floor, even as Teresa's lips moved to say something I couldn't hear over the ringing in my ear, I knew there was no way we could get her out from under that piece of ceiling.

I reached her just in time to see the life in her eyes fade.

Before I could react, someone was dragging me backward as quickly as I had come. I could only stare at her figure as Brenda hauled Thomas to his feet and got him moving. Maybe I was still screaming. I didn't know anything except unbearable numbness. As I forced my legs to comply, I knew that this would be another image that would never fade from my brain.

I craned my neck upward to see Minho's mouth moving, but through the explosions and my deaf ear, I couldn't make out his words. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. My body was on autopilot— I could see my feet moving but wasn't processing the thought it took to do so, I was breathing but wasn't sure how.

Brent was waiting in the doorway of where I assumed the Flat Trans was. He shouted something, waving us toward him. Just as the four of us reached him, I forced myself to turn around and take one last glance at what I was leaving behind.

Bodies littered the floor. I could see Maseo's and Rat Man's lifeless figures just before a wall collapsed onto them, flames eating up the room so quickly I could feel their heat even from where I stood. More chunks of the ceiling caved in and billowed dust toward us.

"Go!" Brent's muffled voice ordered. He shoved Minho, Thomas, Brenda, and I forward just as Gally disappeared through the Flat Trans. In spite of the circumstances, relief filled me— everyone else had already made it.

Metal screamed from behind us as the maintenance room collapsed. If we waited any longer, we would be dead. So as soon as Brenda and Thomas went through the silvery substance, the rest of us followed.

I couldn't comprehend what led me from one moment to the next. Just as quickly as I stepped through the Flat Trans, I had collapsed on the floor of a shed. And then I was being hauled out by Minho and Brent, Thomas limping behind us.

"Look, Dylan," Brent urged, his tone carrying a sort of softness I didn't know he was capable of possessing. "Look."

I raised my head to observe our surroundings— it was unlike anything I ever remembered seeing in my sixteen years of life. A field of wildflowers and tall grass stretched before us, their scent overpowering compared to the dust-filled air I'd been breathing previously. At the bottom of the hill we stood on was a stretch of lush wildlife, great oak trees towering over the people around them. But even they appeared minuscule compared to the mountains in the distance. I had to squint to see the beach to my left, grass turning into smooth sand that eventually led to an ocean. The sunlight reflected off of the deep blue water; I held up a hand so I wasn't blinded.

Kids ran amongst the flowers. Some had already taken advantage of the water and were wading into it. Impossibly, life was starting again.

Sudden heat warmed my back. The four of us turned to see Brenda walking away from the shed, which was engulfed in flames. So that was what she was doing in there after she shut the Flat Trans down— just to be safe.

She gave me a supportive, exhausted grin and joined Thomas' side. We stood that way for a moment until Brent began to wander toward the field where Sonya was arranging flowers in a flustered Aris' hair. Garret smiled sadly as he watched. I wondered if he was thinking of Theo, of what his expression would have been if he'd made it this far. I thought he might have liked the sight of the ocean.

I couldn't help but picture the ghosts of all of the friends who should have been there with us, celebrating our escape from W.I.C.K.E.D. Alby would have adored the field and its calming effect. Chuck should have been snorting his adorable laugh with those who were making chains from the flowers. Zart, planning how we were going to start farming. So many more people filling up this seemingly empty chunk of land. And, above all, I ached the most when I turned and didn't see Newt squinting into the sunlight or Teresa smiling at me.

Minho abruptly broke the nostalgia by swearing and ripping off part of his shirt. Thomas, Brenda, and I stared at him in confusion as he tore a strip from the bottom, then held it up as if admiring his handiwork.

"What—" Brenda began to ask, but stopped as Minho turned to me.

"Your arm is gushing blood," he said blankly. I glanced down to where the woman's knife had cut me to see that rivers of crimson were trickling from it— some dry, some not. I'd forgotten about it in the midst of the chaos. Everything was so numb that I hadn't had time to process how much it hurt.

"Oh," was all I could manage to say. My voice didn't sound like my own— rough, scratchy, and weak from so much screaming. But I held my arm out so he could tie the strip of cloth around my biceps and cut off the blood flow.

"Come on," he urged, nodding toward where Sonya and Harriet were in the process of making a flower crown for Garret. Their smiles were wobbly, strained, and lurking with sadness, but at least they were trying. "We have a lot to explore."

As we walked, I turned around to see Thomas staring blankly at the vast expanse of nature before him. Brenda held tightly onto his hand. My heart clenched for him, but there was nothing I could do or say. There would be a better time to talk later on. We all needed time to process what had just happened. And maybe we would never heal, but there were some bonds that just couldn't be broken— even when a group of scientists tried to wipe our memories.

I faced forward in just enough time to be welcomed into the arms of my friends.

END OF BOOK THREE.

_____

you guys, i .... i can't believe i just wrote that. i'm going to save all of the mushy stuff for later because there is a two-part epilogue still to come, so you're safe from my rambling (for now)

i really hope you guys liked this chapter, as it was a challenge to write and capture everything i wanted to in such a short amount of time. i really expected that there would be more, but since jdash pulled another stunt with his 3-page chapters, i was able to condense it into one.

thank you for sticking with dylan's journey and i hope to see you all in the epilogue!

-kristyn