( 16. the scorch )

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The vent cover clanged softly as Ellie crawled out last, her hands scraped from the narrow metal shaft. The room was dimly lit, but the tension was palpable as the boys turned to look at the returning and new face.

"Ellie?" Minho's voice cut through the quiet, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What the hell are you doing with them?"

Before she could respond, Thomas spoke, his words tumbling out quickly. "We gotta go. We gotta go right now."

"What are you talking about?" Newt asked, standing up and stepping toward Thomas.

"They're coming," Thomas muttered, pacing the room. His hands ran through his hair in agitation. "Come on. We gotta go. They're coming for us. Paige... she's still alive."

Newt tried to steady the situation. "Aris, what happened?"

Thomas stopped pacing, spinning toward them with wide eyes. "She's still alive."

"Who's 'she'? Teresa?" Newt pressed.

"No." Thomas's tone was sharp, his jaw tightening. "Ava. Ava Paige."

"Ava?" Newt repeated, his frown deepening. "Will you just turn around and talk to us?"

"It's WICKED!" Thomas's voice rose, his frustration boiling over. "It's still WICKED. It's always been WICKED."

He shoved a nearby mattress against the door, his movements jerky and frantic. "They've been lying to us. The whole time. It's all been a lie."

୨ৎ

The group crawled through the vents again, their movements hurried. The metal groaned under their movements, and Ellie's heart pounded in her ears.

"Come on, come on!" Thomas urged as he broke the vent cover into the next corridor. He motioned for the others to follow quickly. "Okay, let's go."

"You guys go ahead," Aris said suddenly, his voice calm but firm. He stopped, lingering near the vent opening.

Thomas spun around, confusion and frustration etched into his face. "What are you talking about?"

"Trust me," Aris said. "It's important. You guys wanna get outta here, right? Just go."

"I'll go with him," Winston offered, stepping toward Aris with a nod. They both went back into the vents without another word.

Minho raised an eyebrow, his skepticism evident. "You sure we can trust this kid?"

Thomas hesitated but nodded. "You don't want to know where we'd be without him."

The group turned the corner and sprinted down the hallway, only to run straight into Dr. Crawford.

"What are you kids doing out?" she demanded, her voice sharp. Her eyes moved over to Ellie, "Eleanor?"

Without missing a beat, Minho grabbed her arm. "Sorry Dr Crawford," Ellie sheepishly smiled.

Dr. Crawford tried to pull back, but Thomas moved closer, his voice low and dangerous. "Move."

୨ৎ

The group burst into the medical area, shoving Dr. Crawford ahead of them. The sterile white walls felt oppressive as their eyes scanned the room for any sign of Teresa. A startled doctor froze in place, his mouth opening in shock.

"Dr. Crawford, are you here to—"

"Where is she?" Thomas barked, cutting him off. "Where is she?"

Minho handed the gun to Thomas, who stormed toward a curtained-off area at the far end of the room. Without hesitation, he yanked the curtain back, revealing Teresa lying on a bed. Her face was pale, and an oxygen mask covered her mouth and nose. Her chest rose and fell faintly, her fragile state sending a wave of panic through the group.

"Teresa," Thomas breathed, his voice cracking. "What did they do to you?"

Her eyes fluttered open, her voice weak and groggy. "Thomas?"

Dr. Crawford tried to inch away, but Ellie blocked her path, her voice cold. "You're not going anywhere."

"You're never going to get away with this," Dr. Crawford spat, her tone venomous.

"What's going on?" Teresa murmured, her voice barely audible.

Thomas leaned closer, his voice soft but urgent. "We gotta leave right now. Come on."

From the doorway, Frypan's panicked voice broke through the chaos. "Guys? They're coming! Where do we go?"

"Move!" Newt shouted, grabbing a nearby trolley and shoving it against the door. Ellie jumped in to help, her hands shaking as they barricaded the entrance.

Thomas's eyes scanning the room before they landed on a glass window at the back. "There! Newt, help me!"

Thomas grabbed a chair and hurled it at the window, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the room. He and Newt cleared the shards, creating an opening just big enough for the group to escape.

The group spilled into another hallway, their footsteps echoing in the tight space. Just as they approached what seemed like the final door, Janson and his guards called out to them stopped them from their escape.

"Thomas!" Janson's voice rang out, calm but menacing.

Thomas froze, leveling the gun in Janson's direction. "Open the door, Janson!" he demanded, his voice shaking with rage.

Janson raised an eyebrow, his smirk unnerving. "You really don't want me to do that."

"Open the damn door!" Thomas shouted, his finger hovering over the trigger.

Janson took a step forward, his hands raised in mock surrender. "Listen to me. I'm trying to save your life, Thomas. The maze is one thing, but you kids wouldn't last a day out there in the Scorch. If the elements don't kill you, the Cranks will. I only want what's best for you."

Thomas's grip on the gun tightened. "Yeah? Let me guess. WICKED is good?"

"You're not getting through that door, Thomas," Janson said coolly.

Before Janson could say more, the door behind the group clicked open, and Winston and Aris stepped through, motioning frantically. "Hey, guys!" Winston called.

The group didn't wait and they bolted for the exit. Making it just in time for the doors to close behind them.

୨ৎ

The Scorch hit them like a wall, the heat searing their skin as they stumbled into the sand. Ellie shielded her eyes from the windy sand, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Teresa broke away, running toward a distant building half-buried in the dunes.

"Teresa!" Thomas shouted, his voice laced with panic.

"Teresa, wait!" Ellie called, breaking into a sprint after her. Behind her, the others shouted for them to stop, but Ellie pushed forward, her feet sinking into the sand with every step.

They came across a building that looked like it had been swallowed by the sand, its edges jagged and half-buried. Teresa reached it first, stopping to peer into the dark opening. She glanced back at the group, her voice sharp and firm.

"Come on!" she called, urgency in her tone.

"No, don't go in there!" Thomas shouted, panic threading his voice. But she didn't listen, and glided into the building with ease.

"Get down here!" Teresa's voice echoed faintly from inside, insistent and unyielding.

Thomas cursed under his breath, his jaw tight with frustration. "Okay, come on! Get inside!" he urged, motioning for the others to follow.

Ellie was next, sliding down the sandy incline and landing hard on her feet. Her heart raced as she took in the heavy, stale air around her. It smelled of decay and dampness, the kind of place that hadn't been disturbed in years. She brushed sand from her hands and straightened, squinting into the dark.

Minho rummaged through his bag and pulled out a flashlight, flicking it on with a sharp click. He handed a second one to Ellie. "Can you hold onto this?" he asked before sweeping his light across the room.

Ellie nodded, gripping the flashlight tightly. "Got it," she murmured, her voice low but steady.

The beam revealed piles of sand mixed with old wood, broken tools, and rusted objects scattered across the floor. Everything looked abandoned, forgotten.

"Where the hell are we?" Minho muttered, his voice low and wary.

Thomas didn't answer. He had already started moving deeper into the building, his shoulders hunched with tension. "We gotta go," he said, his tone clipped.

"No, Thomas, stop!" Teresa stepped into his path, blocking him. Her tone was firm, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him. "Tell me what's going on."

Thomas hesitated, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Finally, he exhaled sharply and met her gaze. "It's WICKED," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "It's WICKED. They lied to us. We never escaped."

Ellie's breath hitched as his words settled over them. The memory of what they had seen flashed vividly in her mind, the images burned into her consciousness.

"Ellie, Aris and I—we found bodies. Too many to count," Thomas continued, his voice cracking.

Minho frowned, stepping closer. "What do you mean? Dead bodies?" His tone was sharper now, tinged with disbelief.

"They weren't dead," Ellie whispered, the bile rising in her throat. "Their eyes were open. They were staring at us like they knew what was happening to them. Like they could feel it."

Thomas nodded grimly. "They had them strung up," he added. "Tubes coming out of them. They were being drained."

Ellie crossed her arms tightly over her chest, trying to hold herself together. "And that's not even the worst part," she said quietly, her voice breaking. "They're using us. Whatever they're taking from them—it's something in our blood. Something WICKED wants. That's why we were in the maze."

Silence stretched between them as her words sank in, heavy and suffocating. Teresa looked between Ellie and Thomas, her expression conflicted. Minho was the first to break the silence.

"So what?" he asked, his voice tense. "You're saying they're trying to use us as... what? Experiments?"

Thomas's jaw tightened. "They already have. And they're not going to stop. That's why we have to get as far away from them as possible."

Newt stepped forward, his expression skeptical. "Okay. So, what's the plan? You do have a plan, right?"

Thomas hesitated again, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Yeah," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know."

Newt's jaw tightened, frustration flashing across his face. "Well, we followed you out here, Thomas," he said, his voice rising. "And now you're saying you have no idea where we're going? Or what we're doing?"

Ellie shot Newt a glare, her voice cutting through his frustration. "Do you think we had time to figure out a perfect plan? We barely made it out of there alive," she snapped. "What matters is that we keep moving before they find us."

Before anyone could respond, Aris spoke from behind them. "Wait. Janson said something about people hiding in the mountains. Some kind of resistance or army."

Thomas's head snapped toward him, his eyes lighting up with recognition. "The Right Arm," he said, almost to himself. "The Right Arm. If they're really against WICKED, maybe they can help us."

"People. In the mountains. Mountain people. That's your plan?" Newt asked, his tone dry and unimpressed.

Thomas squared his shoulders, determination hardening his features. "It's the only chance we have."

Ellie looked at Newt, her voice soft but firm. "It's better than staying here," she said. "And we can't keep running forever without a plan."

Before anyone could argue further, Winston called out from further ahead. "Hey, guys. Check this out. Minho, give me a light!"

The group turned, Minho's flashlight sweeping the area. The beam landed on a trail of footprints in the sand, faint but unmistakable.

"Someone's been down here," Winston said, his voice low.

They followed the trail cautiously, their footsteps crunching against the loose sand beneath them. At the end of the path, Minho stopped near a set of translucent doors, brushing off the grime to peer inside.

"Come on," he said, motioning for the others. "Open it up."

The doors creaked loudly as they pushed them open, revealing a stash of old supplies—cans of food, dusty blankets, and tools scattered across the space. The air inside was stale, but the supplies looked untouched.

Minho swept his flashlight across the room, his expression unreadable. "Looks like people lived here," he muttered.

"Where are they now?" Newt asked, his voice quiet.

Thomas stepped forward, his eyes scanning the room. "Let's pack some of this stuff up. Anything you think you might need. We'll split up, see what else we can find. Meet back here."

Newt hesitated for a moment before handing Thomas a flashlight. "Don't get lost," he said, his tone serious.

Thomas nodded, gripping the light tightly. "Let's go."

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