(A/N): I have a lil surprise for you all. Now, now nobody is dying yet, so that is a plus. But be ready, cause this gon be good.

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If there was one word I would describe that car ride with, it would most definitely be tense, for I felt something drill the back of my head, two eyes watching me from behind and yet I knew it could not be anyone else's but Thomas' sad, shattered look he gave me with our previous departure.

I shifted slightly in my seat, unable to watch the passing lines of burned buildings, lifeless that in heaps of gray cement and broken glass, rubble lay intact, without a soul to be seen and accompanied by soulless grayness of the ground whose quickly shifting bottom I spent countless minutes watching.

My gaze brushed over the car's behind, meeting Thomas' who instantly shifted his to the window- it was killing me to be distant with him, to avoid and stop talking to him over a thing so small that it fueled me with a wish to fix that falling out, if one would call it that way, instantly, there and in that moment.

No longer than five minutes after I brought my gaze back to the front of running, broken buildings Jorge stopped the vehicle at the outer perimeter of that ruined city, shadow of walls looming the closer we got to them whose cold and dark only increased over the scattered market stalls as we walked around the huddling groups of bleakly looking people, their faces painted in agony and pale in color who, with an emotionless voices called and shouted, beaconed more costumers over.

The marketplace, full with clothing material hanging above worn out racks and with minimum protection they provided from intense heat which glistened upon the faces of passerbys in a from of drops, yet who gave no certain care to it continuing to work underneath the merciless heat.

I deftly evaded a truck situated between hurrying groups of people, my feet carefully moving after Fry, him and I being the last of our people to follow gradually stopped seeing a black truck carrying men dressed in black, fading outfits whose shouts I did not hear at all. There was yet one amongst them, one whose attention trained me and stance rigid no matter that he leaned over the car's back showed something of a shock, even though I could not see his eyes behind the protection mask I did notice his hair was a lot longer then of the one who sat next to him.

My lips pulled together abruptly, eyes stayed on the man who stared into mine behind that mask and being freezing on the spot after taking in notice of a long scar running down the exposed skin of his arm- long, almost too similar to the memory of what I had happened half a year back in the Maze.

I snapped back to reality with their disappearance, Fry nudging me to continue as I gained attention to it far too late and as my feet began moving involuntary, faster and faster after the car that left nothing but a void which soon filled with people. Passing the streets, massive walls came into my sight, their looming structure providing a big leap in difference between the horrifying outside where those sick people lived and the inside, where WICKED controlled life and where people even partly could live normally.

Yet, what could surely testify none of it would be named 'normal' were dozens of gray machine guns plastered to the surface, blended in with the color that I had only noticed after having pushed through the crowds, their protesting, yelling and shouting ringing in my ears all the way to the front.

"That's it. That's our way in." Thomas said hopefully, pointing at a small gap between two massive walls which almost as if swam in my vision, closed and reopened again and again just like I remembered maze walls did.

I didn't have neither time, nor strength to tell him about those guns up there, as shifting my head to left I noticed the guard, a man who I saw earlier with the scar running up his arm and who now forcefully moved through the crowds, people that stood in his way pushed to the side only so he'd be able to reach our group.

"Hey, guys we gotta go now. Look." Newt yelled out to us, grabbed Thomas' shoulder to appoint him toward another guard pushing forward, his gray eyes following our group and dusty scarf over his mouth.

I caught Thomas' gaze, his short nod signaling me to start to the gap in between the walls which as soon as I did, forced my legs to stand as still as a post within the crowd- there, above out heads the guns came to life, scraping and screeching as if they hadn't been used in many years. The crowd fell silent, no more there were shouts that echoed, only silence.

Silence, anticipation, fear.

Then a single scream, one after which an avalanche of others rolled down and no sooner than a minute after WICKED trained their weaponry on those innocent people, the whole protest erupted into mortifying screaming and desperate pushing, only so they would not be in the way of the guns- do or die, was the situation then as I shook my head to rid it of all unnecessary thoughts after which I broke into a run, following through aimlessly wandering people somewhere WICKED's guns could not reach us.

The first shot. Deaf did my ears turn to its ringing, echoing and scraping sound, deafening me to the praying shouts and another wave of screaming which came from the first victims of the shooting as I urged myself not to take any care for anything, only reaching safety.

My feet carried me between broken railways, littered with stone and full of rust which I passed quickly, not turning around at any sound of explosion echoing nor screaming after they hit the ground, or running people. Rubble flew around me, not much of a protection did my arm in front of my eyes mean that with every further shot became more and more useless as they arose more dust which danced in my vision which followed me all the way to an alleyway.

Carefully, still with the ground shaking beneath my feet, I removed my arm just in time to see a guard grabbed Newt, forcefully pulling him toward a van parked nearby as my eyes narrowed and mind picked up in worry and panic. I broke into a run to help the boy fight him off, yet something, somebody's hand clamped on my wrist before had I managed to do so which pulled me into a fit of resisting and fighting, each try less and less successful as I uselessly stomped down on his feet and pulled, lessening my strength until I felt it no more.

Nevertheless he dragged me toward a black van, pulling me in with himself when I caught just a sliver of something rather pinkish on his right arm- it was the scar I had seen two times already, sickly looking which was stitched up rather clumsily. My gaze snapped from it then, falling over the one other person in the van aside the guard who dragged me there and two of his people- Fry sat uncomfortably, his hard glare directed to the men which grew even more profound and deep as the door slammed shut after the last man to enter. The engine started, to where I did not know, yet no second later that I got to think of it, the van raced toward the unknown, road shielded by gray metal on all of the sides.

The dark-skinned boy scooped away, allowing me to sit by him in the enclosed space riddled with dust, particles of it I was able to see under the sun which shone through the smaller cracks in the windows or construction itself. It all made breathing normally particularly hard, for the air was at the same time thick with dust and cold over the arms of my skin.

Three men that sat with us gazed firstly at the boy, then at me rather carefully, each of their calculated stares hidden behind black screens of their masks, unmoving, with slight turbulence of the car going over the cracked road yet their figures remained as still as possible.

My mind flooded with questions, my eyebrows scrunched in careful, questioning manner which Fry surely had noticed as he gently placed a hand over my shoulder and I looked at him, nodding. It was quite obvious the men would not give us answers even if we did try to interrogate them.

In silence, only consistent roar of the engine on the other side, I heard a faint screech of a door of sorts, followed by tires abruptly running to a halt- and then silence again. The men who sat with us pushed open the door, one urging Fry out and the other, whose scarred hand I unwillingly accepted pulling me out with yet no fighting on my side, for that would not lead anywhere at all, us against the powerful group and we were in great disadvantage.

Stumbling out the first shout I caught, the first that reached my ears was Thomas', struggling against the man who had the boy's arm locked over his back. "Where's Aria? Where did you take her?" Urgency, his voice full of urgency stopped once his sight landed on me and features have softened into expression of relief which washed over him quickly, as it did over me after seeing him and everybody else was okay.

"Everybody relax. We're all on the same side here." A muffled voice of a guard said, his tall figure standing at our front as behind him another one, the same scarred man carefully chanced a step forward. I stood besides Newt, his eyes calculating as if he was close to figuring something out.

"What do you mean same side? Who the hell are you?" Thomas scoffed, not caring whether the situation was heavily falling in our disadvantage, for the guards were merrier in numbers than us.

Silence settled briefly, each second I grew more and more suspicious as then the guard who spoke to us firstly, revealed the face we all knew too well- Gally. "Hey, Greenie." The older boy said casually, giving us all a small glance which no matter what a small gesture it was, still made me freeze on spot, being drop into disbelief. I stared at him, lips pursed and only wishing to understand how did he survive the almost too certain death our last encounter had sent him in.

"Gally?" Thomas asked, confused and utterly questioning, carrying him forward his stumbling steps laced with all too known feeling of disbelief, as if he could not walk properly- then he snapped, jumped with velocity forward that I did not even get a chance to comprehend what was going on before I took in notice Thomas punched Gally. I broke the seeming trance, being still too slow in my wish to break the fight between two boys, as Newt was much quicker and held Thomas' fist just above Gally's face.

"Stop! Stop, stop it." The blond boy assured him carefully.

"He killed Chuck." Thomas snapped in anger, stiffening and glaring at the Glader.

Newt gained a reassuring expression. "I remember, I was there too. And I also remember he was stung and half out of his mind." He assured Thomas softly, whose threatening stance faded once he stood up, yet still rather angry.

"Kinda had that coming." Gally said with a slightly sarcastic undertone. "Anybody else? Fry? Newt? Aria?"

"How? H-how's that possible. We watched you die." Newt stammered over his words, carefully demanding the answers to unlikely questions which arose in that moment.

"No, you left me to die. Just like you did to Chris."

And on the mention of Chris' name my whole being as if stopped functioning for a second, only thing I could do was slightly tip my head up just to notice the boy who removed his mask and revealed those two blue eyes, now full of pain and death so intense they seemed as if gray- he was the scarred guard, all along the dead boy who I did remember one time in the Scorch. Conversation flowed by me, yet Chris was the only person I focused on in that wide hall.

He was alive, and I didn't know how that was possible.

(A/N):

muahahahaha....chris isn't dead, what a surprise. did anyone see through me?
hope you didn't.

i didn't update in a long time, having some trouble in school and all that...but hey, i'm back now.

anyway, my heart be weak now so thank you so much for reading before i start crying cause this is causing me pain.