ACT I  SCENE XV
PHOENIX

   BEN WAS not dead yet. But they had thrown him into the Slammer right after the Med-jacks patched him up and Cassandra wandered around the Glade looking for a distraction.

Newt had brought Thomas to work the Blood House that morning. If it had been anyone else, she would have felt sorry for the boy. Working the Blood House on the first day was always tough for Greenies. If the smell didn't get them, Winston's gutting sure did. Unless they there Slicer material, but Thomas didn't seem to be the type. Around lunchtime, he had left the Blood House looking a little green.

Whenever she stayed behind in the Glade, Cassandra would help the Cooks in the kitchen because she didn't like squatting in the Gardens for an entire day. The sunflowers she had grown were being harvested for their seeds now, and they made great snacks for the Gladers, who were always hungry.

She was cleaning the countertops when Alby ran into the room in search of a cup of water. He looked at her impassively and grunted out that Minho was back early. Neither of them seemed to have the energy to antagonise each other. The best they could come up with was casual indifference.

Cassandra then ran out to see Minho, curious about his premature return from the Maze. Thomas was there and for him, she managed a customary scowl. Thomas flinched, and for a brief second, she almost felt bad. Almost. But every time she looked at him, something deep inside her twisted—a coil of rage she couldn't name but that came instinctively.

The boy watched her approach warily, looking like he was ready to recoil if she suddenly decided to bite his head off. It was a tempting thought. Minho was sitting on the ground with his legs folded. There was dirt streaked across his face. He beamed up at her, looking more smug than usual.

"What're you doin'?" she asked.

"Boy, do I have some news for you," he told her. "You ain't gonna believe this, Cassie-wassie."

She arched an unimpressed brow at the nickname. Alby joined them a moment later and handed a tall glass of water to Minho. He gulped the entire thing without pause and sighed loudly. "Okay, out with it," Alby demanded. "What happened?"

Minho raised his eyebrows and glanced at Thomas. Alby shook his head and said that he didn't care if the boy listened in. The Runner shrugged and slowly stood up, wincing slightly as he did so. He then leaned against the wall, eyes flicking to them with a barely constrained smirk.

"I found a dead one," he said.

"A dead what?"

A wide, lopsided grin slowly spread across his face. "A dead Griever."

"Are you serious?" Cassandra asked in disbelief.

Alby shook his head. "Ain't a good time for jokes."

Minho grinned at their reactions. "Why would I joke about something like that? You wound me," he said, placing a hand over his chest. "Found the sucker sitting right next to the Cliff. It didn't move or anything when I went near it. Not even a twitch."

A jolt of nausea rippled through her, sharp and sudden, like something inside her recoiled at the idea. A dead Griever. Either they were lucky—or someone wanted them to think they were. Cassandra's fingers twitched at her side. With Thomas and the new girl's arrival, it couldn't have been a coincidence.

"Why didn't you bring it back?" Alby asked. Minho guffawed at that.

"You been drinkin' Frypan's saucy-sauce?" he replied with amusement. "Those things must weigh half a ton, dude. Plus, I wouldn't touch one if you gave me a free trip outta this place."

"What did it look like?" Alby started questioning. "Were the metal spikes in or out of its body? Did it move at all—was its skin still moist?"

"Did it smell like Alby's feet?" Cassandra deadpanned.

The boy shot her a wilting glare. Minho snickered before checking his watch. "We could probably take a look and get back before the Doors closed."

Alby thought about it for a second before shaking his head. "Too risky. Let's do it in the morning."

Minho shrugged and pushed himself away from the wall. He smacked Alby on the arm before walking off with a slight limp in his step. Cassandra immediately followed after him.

"I should go back out there, but screw it," he said over his shoulder. "I'm gonna go and eat some of Frypan's nasty casserole."

He stopped and paused in thought, eyes lighting up.

"Hey Cassie." He turned to her. "I love you like Frypan's Casserole. Get it?"

He laughed to himself like it was the most hilarious thing in the world. Cassandra groaned, rolled her eyes and swatted at his arm. "You're such an idiot, I swear to god," she remarked. "And why are you limping?"

"Pulled a muscle," he said. "C'mere and help me out, will ya?"

She moved closer to him and he placed an arm around her shoulders. Cassandra wrapped hers around his waist to support him and they were almost to the Homestead when Minho started snickering again. She looked at him questioningly.

"I don't actually need your help," he said.

"You're impossible!" she exclaimed.

"And you're adorable," he gushed.

"You idiot," she said, trying and failing to stop herself from smiling. "Continue like that and I'll give you a real limp."

"Whatever you say, Cassie-roll," he smirked widely. "You're still not letting go of me."

She groaned and gave him a small shove that made him laugh. They each grabbed a plate of Fraypan's leftover casserole and sat at a bench to eat. Her mind wandered back to the dead Griever. Was it some kind of message, or a trap? Did it just drop dead? Had something killed it? Or did it just malfunction? She couldn't help feeling suspicious.

"So..." Minho started. "Has Thomas stabbed anyone to death yet?"

"Not yet," she said, shooting him a look. "There's still plenty of time for that, though. Maybe I'll point him in the direction of a certain Keeper of the Runners."

He snickered. "And the girl—she still stuck in a coma?"

"Yeah," Cassandra replied, sighing. "I still don't remember anything about her."

"Weird." He took another bite of his food. "What if she's actually the one we have to look out for? Maybe she'll wake up in the middle of the night and stab all of us in our sleep."

"Then I'll haunt you in the afterlife," she joked. He rolled his eyes.

"They did say she was the last one ever," he said. "There's gotta be a reason for that."

Cassandra shrugged. "Hopefully, she's not as clueless as Thomas."

She turned her gaze out of the Glade, to the Maze beyond the colossal walls. There was an answer out there, somewhere, waiting to be found. She had a feeling that they were close to solving it, to decipher the puzzle that had baffled them for years. To put an end to it all.

   Minho waited for the other Runners to return to tell them about his discovery. There were a lot of nervous glances around the Map Room before they filtered back into the Glade. Minho stopped at the threshold and turned around to look at Cassandra who hadn't moved from her seat. Alby had decided to do Ben's Banishing that evening before the Doors closed.

"Cassie? You coming?" he called.

She sighed heavily as she debated with herself. Finally, she nodded and followed him outside. Everyone had already gathered by the North Door. She could see Jackson and his cronies heading their way with Ben in tow. His clothes were torn in places and a large, bloodied bandage was wrapped around his head. The skin on his face was starting to bruise and his veins were black. There were tears in his eyes.

She didn't know whether it was from the pain of having a gaping hole in his face, or that he knew he was being Banished. The sight of him wrenched her heart and she almost turned to leave. She couldn't believe that just an hour ago, she was laughing and swatting at Minho for his bad jokes. Guilt pooled in her belly. The world shifted. And she hadn't caught up to it yet.

Minho went closer but she didn't follow, opting to stay at the back because she didn't trust herself not to stop them from pushing Ben out of the Walls. A couple of feet away, Thomas stood with his arms crossed as he peered over the shoulder of a taller boy.

"Newt," Alby said steadily. "Bring out the Pole."

The blonde nodded and started walking towards a nearby shed. He came back a moment later with several aluminium poles, which he connected, then dragged towards Alby. The metal scraped along the ground with nerve-grating loudness. Cassandra had never seen a Banishing before and she watched them with gross fascination. Newt passed the pole to Alby and he clasped it around Ben's neck like a collar.

As if rousing from a trance, the boy looked up. Snot was dribbling down his nose as he begged Alby to stop. Cassandra didn't know where they left their humanity but they had taken hers with them. Alby picked the pole up and slid along its length to the end where he positioned himself. His face was scrunched up with enmity.

"Ben of the Runners," he started. "You've been sentenced to Banishment for the attempted murder of Thomas the Newbie. The Keepers have spoken and their word ain't changing. And you ain't coming back. Ever."

He ordered for the Keepers to take their positions. Newt and Minho made their way towards the pole and everyone wore masks of apathy. All she could see was Ben's back but his body writhed in an attempt to escape, his anguished sobs filling the air. Her heart plummeted from her chest and she didn't know if she could hold her own tears back.

"Please!" he cried. "Please, help me! You can't do this to me!"

"Shut up!" Alby snarled from the back.

Ben continued crying and begging. The Gladers turned their eyes away from him, unable and unwilling to help. Cassandra stood rooted to the spot and felt disgusted with herself. A deep rumble resounded all around them, signalling that the doors were beginning to close. The heaving sound was loud enough to momentarily drown Ben's cries.

"Keepers, now!" Alby shouted loudly and as one, they started to push the pole forwards. Ben dropped to his knees but Zart grabbed him and hauled him back to his feet. Then they were pushing again and Ben was screaming, spit flying everywhere.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he cried desperately. "PLEASE STOP! DON'T PUT ME OUT THERE!"

He tried to plant his feet firmly at the edge of the Glade but lurched forwards when they thrust hard against his back. Cassandra forced herself to watch as he staggered a few feet out of the Walls. Even with her memory taken and she was pushed into a bizarre new life, she felt a sense of déjà vu rush through her.

His scream echoed around the Glade, but Cassandra heard something else underneath—the voice of a boy whom she should have known. A flicker of a memory that was out of place, still half-buried within the dark. A boy with broken eyes whose moments of clarity were as intermittent as falling raindrops. The scream ringing in her ears was no longer here, but then.

Ben twisted himself violently around the leather collar and managed to face them. He looked nothing like the boy she knew anymore; his skin taut with sickness, eyes red and bulging out of their sockets. He screamed, a long drawn-out wail that pierced their ears and it sent a sharp pain shooting through Cassandra's temple.

A pressure started to build behind her eyes, like someone pressing their thumbs into her skull.
Something about Ben's voice—his raw, desperate plea—ignited a blazing pain like glass splintered in her brain. No, it felt like something was crawling inside her. Itching.

Zart managed to loosen the main part of the pole from the one connected to Ben's and pulled it back inside the walls at the last second. The Doors closed with a final boom and cut Ben off from them. His scream stopped, only to be picked up by a shriller one from inside the Glade. Everyone turned to look in alarm.

It was Cassandra, she was screaming violently. It felt like a million blazing shards were digging through her brain, twisting and slashing at every neural fibre. She had never felt such agonising pain in her entire life before and dropped to her knees as she dug her fingers into her scalp. Minho and Newt were by her side a second later, each one holding her hands away. There were already tendrils of hair clenched tightly in her fists, knuckles turning bone white. No one else dared to go near her.

"IT HURTS!" she shrieked. "MY HEAD! OH GOD IT HURTS! THE FLARE!"

She screamed one more time before crumpling forwards, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

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