▬We ran through the Maze with Thomas in the lead and Minho taking up the rear. I felt a hurricane of mixed emotions in me; I was terrified, of course, but excitement and - dare I say it - hope, coursed through me like a tidal wave of adrenaline, and I wondered if we were actually going to be able to escape the Maze. For once and for all.

Thomas shouted out words of encouragement back at us as he ran, and I couldn't help but admire his sudden confidence and ability to lead. He seemed nothing like the sulky, confused boy he once was when he arrived in the Box. 

After a long while, maybe hours or so, he motioned for us behind a wall and we complied, panting and breathing heavily.

We held our breaths in anticipation as Thomas stole a peek around the corner.

"Is there a Griever?" Chuck asked him, his voice shaking.

Thomas nodded curtly. "Yeah."

Fear rippled among us. Thomas unsheathed his knife and I did the same, pulling out my machete and gripping it tightly.

"Ready?" He said, fiery determination burning in his eyes. Without waiting for our answer, he roared, "Let's go!"

The rest of us roared along with him and we rounded the corner and charged down the corridor. Just like Thomas had said, there was a Griever at the other end, pacing around as it guarded the exit. It turned towards the direction of our voices and footsteps and let out a horrible haunted moan. It started to run towards us, its metal spikes clawing at the ground to let it gain speed.

We charged it, weapons raised, and smashed into it, shoving our wooden shafts and blades into its body. The Griever screeched again as it nearly toppled off the chasm on either side of us. Its spikes lashed out and several Gladers tripped over. The tail seemed to shoot out of nowhere - it snatched up unsuspecting Gladers and toss them out of sight.

"Push it!" Thomas yelled, jabbing his wooden pole at the Griever. I realized that he was trying to shove the monster off into the chasm, and I rushed forward, helping him. The other Gladers followed suit, and soon, the Griever slipped and toppled off into the chasm, not before letting loose one last screech.

Before I could even blink, I heard more whirring noises behind us and whirled around. There were about four or five more Grievers advancing on us, baring their razor-sharp fangs and spikes. I could feel terror and despair among the group of Gladers - it took all our strength and courage just to defeat one Griever and now we have to fight more?

The monsters charged us all at once, and it was all we could do to defend ourselves. I stabbed at every bit of soft flesh I could find in the creatures, but they seemed to do no damage. My now throbbing shoulder was no help at all. 

More Gladers fell into the chasm. More Gladers died. For every spike we deflected more seemed to take their place, the Grievers lashing out their tails every now and then and dragging someone away. Chuck and Teresa ran into the Griever Hole, probably to type in the code to get us all the hell out of there.

One of the spikes came at me and I deflected it with my machete - but another one lashed out at my arm and I couldn't jump away in time. It sliced through my skin and my knees crumbled as I cried out in pain.

The Grievers bared their fangs at me, sensing that I was weak, and were about to kill me when I heard a defiant shout from behind me. I watched in horror as Jeff rushed forward and threw himself into the line of fire. 

I screamed at him to get out of there, my throat raw, but he defended off the Grievers, bringing their attention onto him instead of me.

It was deja vu. I could still see Mark jumping in front of me to save me from the Griever in the Glade, only to get stabbed in the process. I couldn't allow that to happen to any more of my friends - not on my conscience.

I was about to leap forward and push Jeff out of the Grievers' way when I felt two strong hands wrap around me from behind.

"NO, NO, NO!" I yelled, trying to throw Newt off. "GET OFF OF ME!"

I thrashed about and glanced back at the Grievers - Jeff was nowhere to be seen.

I let loose a blood-curdling scream, my voice echoeing throughout the chamber as the haunting echoes magnified my pain. My friends covered their ears as my piercing shriek resonated throughout the open chamber - but I didn't care - Jeff was dead because of me - of me-

I staggered to my feet and tried to charge the creatures, wanting to tear at them bit by bit until they were dead, but Newt yanked me back.

"LET ME GO!" I tried pushing him away again but his grip on me was way too tight.

"Rose, there's nothing you can do!" He said.

I wanted to break down and cry - wanted to claw at the ground and scream and wail. I had just lost one of my best friends to some stupid Maze monsters all because I was too weak to help him - but I knew I couldn't do that. It wouldn't be fair to Jeff if I died right after he sacrificed himself to save me.

With a sob, I let Newt pull me back into the crowd of Gladers, tears falling freely from my eyes. We backed into the Griever Hole with the others, our weapons held out to push back the creatures, which now surrounded us. I knew we couldn't fight them all - our only chance was to hope that help was on the other side of the exit.

Teresa finally punched in the code and we all scrambled back, determined to get away from the Grievers. The walls started to close, and the creatures snarled at us angrily - then the walls shut, squashing the ones stupid enough to try and crawl through - and we were thrown into darkness.

-

A door slid opened in front of us with a soft hiss.

We stared it, none of us moving, the sounds of our breathing filling the air. Then Teresa pushed the door wider and we blinked, shielding our eyes from the sudden brightness. We were in a huge underground chamber big enough to hold nine or ten Homesteads. From top to bottom, side to side, the place was covered in all kinds of machinery and wires and ducts and computers. Across from that on the other side stood large glass doors, although the lighting made it impossible to see what was on the other side.

Directly in front of them, a row of twenty or so darkly tinged windows stretched across the compound horizontally, one after the other. Behind each one, a person - some men, some women, all of them pale and thin - sat observing the Gladers, staring through the glass with squinted eyes.

The Creators.

The other Gladers took a step forward, obviously curious about the ordeal, but I stood rooted in place, glaring at the men and women behind the glass. The Creators continued to stare at us; a man shook his head, a woman nodded.

"Who are those people?" Chuck whispered, but his voice echoed throughout the chamber with a raspy edge.

"The Creators," Minho said. Then he spat on the floor. "I'm gonna break your faces!" he screamed, so loudly that I cringed away from his voice.

"What do we do?" Thomas asked. "What are they waiting on?"

Before anyone could answer, the doors swung open and in stepped two figures. One was a grown-up woman. She seemed very ordinary, wearing black pants and a button-down white shirt. As she walked toward us, she neither smiled nor frowned - it was almost as if she couldn't care less that we were standing there. She stopped several feet in front of us and slowly looked left to right, taking us all in.

The other person, standing next to her, was a boy wearing an overly large sweatshirt, its hood pulled up over his head, concealing his face.

"Welcome back," the woman finally said. "Over two years, and so few dead. Amazing."

I stared at her, apalled by her words. "What?" I said, blinking in shock.

"Excuse me?" Newt asked.

Her eyes scanned the crowd again before falling on Newt. "Everything has gone according to plan, Mr. Newton. Although we expected a few more of you to give up along the way."

She glanced over at her companion, then reached out and pulled the hood off the boy. He looked up, his eyes wet with tears. Every Glader in the room sucked in a breath of surprise. I felt my eyes widen in shock.

It was Gally.

"What's he doing here!" Minho shouted.

"You're safe now," the woman responded as if she hadn't heard him. "Please, be at ease."

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

She narrowed her eyes as she looked at Minho. "You have no idea what you're talking about, boy. I'd expect more maturity from someone who's passed the Maze Trials."

Minho started to retort, but Newt elbowed him in the gut.

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

The dark-haired boy looked at him; his eyes flared for a moment, his head shaking slightly. But he didn't respond. Something seemed off with him. 

The woman nodded as if proud of him. "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 the whole thing was a mistake. Dark times, Mr. Newton. Dark times."

My body started to tremble. I couldn't bear to hear the woman comment on the Maze as a 'mistake'. If it truly was a mistake, then we suffered through all our trauma and hardships for nothing. Our friends died for nothing.

Newt noticed me shaking silently and grasped my hand in his, shooting me a comforting glance.

The woman paused. "There is, of course, one final Variable." She stepped back.

"Gally?" Thomas asked, looking confused and angry at the same time.

Words burst from Gally's mouth. "I'm sorry," he said, and I was shocked to see tears forming in his eyes. "I'm sorry - I didn't want to do this - I'm so sorry-"

Gally reached behind himself, pulled something long and shiny from his back pocket. The lights of the chamber flashed off the silvery surface - a wicked-looking dagger, gripped tightly in his fingers. With unexpected speed, he reared back and threw the knife at Thomas. As he did so, Chuck dove in front of him before anybody could stop him. With a sickening, wet thunk, the dagger slammed into the boy's chest, burying itself to the hilt.

Chuck screamed, fell to the floor, his body already convulsing. Blood poured from the wound, dark crimson. Red spit oozed from between his lips. I stared in horror as Thomas fell to the ground, pulling Chuck's shaking body into his arms.

"Chuck!" he screamed. "Chuck!"

The boy shook uncontrollably, blood everywhere, wetting Thomas's hands. Chuck's eyes were wide with shock, the white orbs dull and glassy. Blood trickled out of his nose and mouth.

"Take... it..." He choked out.

Chuck held a hand up, his fingers curling around something. Thomas wrapped his hand around his fist and grasped a small wooden figure. I realized with a painful jolt that it was another version of the wooden sculpture Chuck had given me a few weeks ago. He must have created another one just for Thomas.

The boy's eyes slowly fell onto mine, and I felt my breath hitch in my throat. 

"Do you... Do you still... have it?" He whispered, staring directly into my tear-brimmed eyes.

"Yes," I whispered back. 

From my pocket, I pulled out the wooden figurine and held it out for him to see. A faint, barely noticeable smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Then Chuck stopped convulsing, stilled, his blood flowing his chin and dripping onto the clean, cool floor. His eyes closed, his body went limp. One last breath wheezed from his mouth.

"Chuck..." Thomas said, this time a whisper.

Silence.

Thomas let go of Chuck, stood up, trembling, and turned to face the woman and Gally.

Then as quick as lightning, he rushed forward, threw himself on Gally, and started punching him. There was crunching, there was blood, there were horrible screams. Minho rushed forward and grabbed his arm, Newt right beside him. They pulled Thomas away and dragged him across the floor. Thomas fought the two boys, squirmed, yelled to be left alone, but Newt and Minho didn't let go.

Thomas shoved them off him and scrambled to Chuck. He hugged the boy's body to his chest and cried like he'd never wept before. His great, racking sobs echoed through the chamber like the sounds of tortured pain. 

I fell to my knees beside him and cradled Chuck's head, running my hands through his soft, curly hair and cool, pale skin that a few moments earlier used to be warm and full of life. Tears slid down my face as I hung my head, mourning for the boy whom I had always cared and nurtured for.

Thomas' cries and my silent weeping were cut short by a sudden series of shouts and commotion outside the entrance through which the woman had come. She visibly panicked, the blood draining from her face as she turned toward the door. I followed her gaze, my vision blurry and wet.

Several men and women dressed in grimy jeans and tattered coats burst through the entrance with guns raised, yelling and screaming words over each other. It was impossible to understand what they were saying. I stared as two of the newcomers tackled the WICKED woman to the floor. Then one stepped back and drew up his gun, aimed.

I looked away just in time before I heard the guns fire.

A man walked up to us as the others in his group spread out around us, sweeping their guns left and right as they shot at the observation windows, shattering them. I heard screams and saw blood; I ignored them all, focusing on the man who approached us instead.

"We don't have time to explain," he said, his voice as strained as his face. "Just follow me and run like your life depends on it. Because it does."

With that the man made a few motions to his companions, then turned and ran out the big glass doors, his gun held rigidly before him. Gunfire and cries of agony still rattled the chamber, but the other Gladers rushed forward, following the man.

I stood in place, too numb and paralyzed to move. Newt glanced back and when he saw that I wasn't with him, he ran back and grabbed my arm, pulling me up along with him.

"Come on!" He shouted over the chaos.

We ran down a long hallway, into a dimly lit tunnel. A set of metal doors opened in front and we rushed through it, almost stomping each other in the process. The men didn't stop moving until they reached a huge flying machine; the propellers were already moving, slicing through the air. My hair whipped through the air like crazy, slapping my face and eyes and ears. My vision was too fuzzy to take in the surroundings, but I knew we were in some sort of desert, judging by the hot winds blowing around me and the sandy terrain.

"Get on!" one of the man shouted. "Hurry!"

We did, hopping on without needing to be informed twice. We pushed and scrambled our way up the flying machine and into the seats. As soon as everybody got on, we took off into the air immediately, the propellers roaring in our ears.

I leaned back against my seat and closed my eyes. 

We did it. We escaped the Maze. But was it worth it?

So many of our friends had died just to reach this far - it felt wrong, so wrong. It didn't feel right for them to die before stepping foot outside the Maze. They deserved to be here with us as much as we did.

I opened my eyes and joined Newt in staring out the window. We watched the sandy dunes passed by below us in a blur. He glanced back at me and I returned his gaze with a weary expression. Despite the feud between us that we still hadn't resolve, he reached out and hugged me, burying his face into my hair. 

I hugged him back and sobbed into his shoulder, squeezing my eyes shut tightly. Images of my friends who were no longer alive flashed through my mind, and it was all I could do to stop myself from screaming.

What if we were next? What if the next part of our lives was just as difficult and full of blood?

"It's okay, Rose," Newt whispered, tears sliding down his face and onto my head. "It's okay. We're safe now."

Empty words, but I welcomed them all the same.

I pulled back and stared out the windows again, and wondered, along with the others, where we were being taken to and what awaited us next.

[ THE END OF BOOK 1 ]

***

HOLY SHIT. I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT BOOK ONE IS FINALLY OVER. 

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR EVERYONE WHO SUPPORTED THIS BOOK LIKE,,, SERIOUSLY Y'ALL ARE THE BEST 

thank you Divinemoon for constantly commenting and voting on my stories, it makes my day when i receive notifications from you cause i know that you're always there to support my story <3

thank you docerealbeforemilk who also comments (a lot haha) and votes on my chapters, and also supports me on piratesandzodiacs (wink wink you know what im talking about) <3

thank you to my irl friend heatherfeatherpuff for voting on all my chapters even though she's not a fan of tmr like thank youuu! I never asked you to vote but you do anyway <3

and of course, to the rest of my dear readers, even if you don't vote or comment, i still appreciate you guys loads for even reading this story, it means a crap ton to me <33

Boy am i excited for the scorch!!! im gonna be introducing new characters, new bonds between unexpected people, and of course, the million drachma question... is Rosalind immune? ;)))))

The sequel to this story is out already so go check it out on my profile!! it's called "Run With Me" :)

And one last thing before i go here's a sad edit i made of Newt that i definitely didn't cry over:

see you guys in the scorch trials✌