The Scorch Trials -Epilogue

This is not a time to let emotions interfere with the task at hand. Yes, some events have gone in a direction
we didn’t foresee. Not all is ideal—things have gone wrong—but we’ve made tremendous progress and
have collected many of the needed patterns. I feel a great amount of hope.
I expect all of us to maintain our professional demeanor and remember our purpose. The lives of so
many people rest in the hands of so few. This is why it’s an especially important time for vigilance and
focus.
The days to come are fundamental to this study, and I have every confidence that when we restore their
memories, every one of our subjects will be ready for what we plan to ask of them. We still have the
Candidates we need. The final pieces will be found and put into place.
The future of the human race outweighs all. Every death and every sacrifice are well worth the ultimate
outcome. The end of this monumental effort is coming, and I believe that the process will work. That
we’ll have our patterns. That we’ll have our blueprint. That we’ll have our cure.
The Psychs are deliberating even now. When they say the time is right, we’ll remove the Swipe and tell
our remaining subjects if they are—or are not—immune to the Flare.
That’s all for now.

Categories: The Scorch Trials

The Scorch Trials - Chapter 65

He sat straight up, covered in sweat. Even before he could fully compute his surroundings, before all the
information traveled through the nerve wires and cognitive functions of his brain, he knew that everything
was wrong. That everything had been taken from him all over again.
He lay on the ground, alone, in a room. The walls, the ceiling, the floor—everything was white. The
floor beneath him was spongy, hard and smooth but with enough give to be comfortable. He looked at the
walls—they were padded, with large buttoned indentations across them, about four feet apart. Bright light
shone down from a rectangle in the ceiling, too high for him to reach. The place had a clean smell to it,
like ammonia and soap. Thomas looked down to see that even his clothes had no color: a T-shirt, cotton
pants, socks.
A brown desk sat about a dozen feet in front of him. It was the only thing in the entire room that wasn’t
white. Old and battered and scratched, it had a bare wooden chair pushed into the sitting well on the other
side. Behind that was the door, padded like the walls.
Thomas felt a strange calm. Instinct told him he should be on his feet, screaming for help. He should be
banging on the door. But he knew that door wouldn’t open. He knew no one would listen.
He was in the Box all over again, should’ve known better than to get his hopes up.
I’m not going to panic, he told himself. It had to be another phase of the Trials, and this time he’d fight
to change things—to end it all. It was strange, but just knowing he had a plan, that he’d do whatever it
took to find freedom, caused a surprising calm to pass over him.
Teresa? he called out. He knew that at this point she and Aris were his only hope for communication
with the outside. Can you hear me? Aris? You there?
No one responded. Not Teresa. Not Aris. Not … Brenda.
But that had only been a dream. It had to have been. Brenda couldn’t be working with WICKED,
couldn’t be speaking in his mind.
Teresa? he said again, throwing hard mental effort into it. Aris?
Nothing.
He stood and walked over to the desk, but two feet in front of it he ran into an invisible wall. A barrier,
just like back in the dormitory.
Thomas didn’t let the panic rise. Didn’t let fear overcome him. He took a deep breath, walked back
toward the corner of the room, then sat down and leaned into it. Closed his eyes and relaxed.
Waited. Fell asleep.
Tom? Tom!
He didn’t know how many times she said it before he finally responded. Teresa? He woke with a jolt,
looked around and remembered the white room. Where are you?
They put us in another dormitory after the Berg landed. We’ve been here a few days, just sitting
around doing nothing. Tom, what happened to you?
Teresa was worried—scared, even. That much he knew for sure. As for himself, he mostly felt
confused. A few days? What—
They took you away as soon the Berg landed. They keep telling us it was too late—that the Flare is
too rooted in you. They said you’ve gotten crazy and violent.
Thomas tried to hold it together, tried not to think about how WICKED could wipe memories.
Teresa … it’s just another part of the Trials. They’ve got me locked up in this white room.
But … you’ve been there for days? How many?
Tom, it’s been almost a week.
Thomas couldn’t respond. Almost wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard what Teresa had just said. The
fear he’d been holding back began to slowly seep into his chest. Could he trust her? She’d lied to him so
much already. And how did he even know this was really her? It was high time to cut off ties with Teresa.
Tom? Teresa called to him again. What’s going on here? I’m really confused.
Thomas felt a rush of emotion, a burning inside him that almost brought tears to his eyes. He had once
considered Teresa his best friend. But it could never be like that again. Now all he felt when he thought of
her was anger.
Tom! Why aren’t you—
Teresa, listen to me.
Hello? That’s what I’m trying to—
No, just … listen. Don’t say anything else, okay? Just listen to me.
She paused. Okay. A quiet, scared voice in his mind.
Thomas couldn’t control it anymore. Rage pulsed inside of him. Luckily, he only had to think the words,
because he could never have spoken them aloud.
Teresa. Go away.
Tom—
No. Don’t say another word. Just … leave me alone. And you can tell WICKED that I’m done
playing their games. Tell them I’m done!
She waited a few seconds before responding. Okay. Another pause. Okay. Then I just have one thing
left to say to you.
Thomas sighed. I can’t wait.
She didn’t say it right away, and he would’ve thought she’d left him except that he still felt her
presence. Finally, she spoke again.
Tom?
What?
WICKED is good.
And then she was gone.

Categories: The Scorch Trials

the Scorch Trials - Chapter 64

He awoke, blinked, wiped his eyes and saw nothing but pure white. No shapes, no shadows, no variation,
nothing. Just white.
A flicker of panic until he realized he must be dreaming. Strange, but a dream for sure. He could feel
his body, feel his fingers against his skin. Feel himself breathing. Hear himself breathing. Yet he was
surrounded by a complete and seamless world of bright nothing.
Tom.
A voice. Her voice. Could she talk to him while he was dreaming? Had she done it before? Yes.
Hey, he responded.
Are you … okay? She sounded troubled. No, felt troubled.
Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Why?
Just thought you’d be a little surprised right now.
He felt a stab of confusion. What are you talking about?
You’re about to understand more. Very soon now.
For the first time, Thomas realized the voice wasn’t quite right. There was something off about it.
Tom?
He didn’t answer. Fear had crept into his gut. A horrible, sickening, toxic fear.
Tom?
Who … who are you? he finally asked, terrified of the answer.
A pause before she answered.
It’s me, Tom. It’s Brenda. Things are about to get bad for you.
Thomas screamed before he knew what he was doing. He screamed and screamed and screamed until it
finally woke him up.

Categories: The Scorch Trials

The Scorch Trials - Chapter 63

Thomas tried hard not to think about things as the next couple of hours passed.
He’d made a stand, but then all that tension and courage and victory kind of trickled away as the group
went through the motions of the most ordinary of activities. Hot food. Cold drinks. Medical attention.
Wonderfully long showers. Fresh clothes.
Through it all, Thomas recognized the chance that it was all happening again. That he and the others
were being pacified, slowly being led to another shock like the one they’d had when they awakened in the
dormitory after being rescued from the Maze. But really, what else was there to do? David and the others
on his staff made no threats, did nothing to raise alarm.
Refreshed and full of food, Thomas ended up sitting on a couch that ran along the narrow middle
section of the Berg, a vast room full of mismatched drab-colored furniture. He’d been avoiding Teresa,
but she came over and sat next to him. He still had a hard time being near her, a hard time talking to her or
anyone else. His insides burned with turmoil.
But he put it all away because there was nothing else to do. He didn’t know how to fly a Berg and
wouldn’t know where to go even if he could take it over. They’d go wherever WICKED took them, they’d
listen, they’d make their decision.
“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Teresa finally asked.
Thomas was glad she’d spoken aloud—he wasn’t sure he wanted to communicate telepathically with
her anymore. “What am I thinking about? Mostly trying not to.”
“Yeah. Maybe we should just enjoy the peace and quiet for a while.”
Thomas looked at Teresa. She sat next to him as if nothing had changed between them at all. As if they
were still best friends. And he couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I hate that you’re acting like nothing happened.”
Teresa looked down. “I’m trying to forget just as much as you probably are. Look, I’m not stupid. I
know that we can never be the same. But I still wouldn’t change anything. It was the plan and it worked.
You’re not dead and that’s worth it to me. Maybe you’ll forgive me someday.”
Thomas almost hated her for sounding so reasonable. “Well, all I care about right now is stopping these
people. It’s not right what they’ve done to us. It doesn’t matter how much I was a part of it. It’s wrong.”
Teresa stretched out a little so she could rest her head against the arm of the couch. “Come on, Tom.
They might’ve erased our memories, but they didn’t remove our brains. We were both part of this, and
when they tell us everything—when we remember why we put ourselves through this—we’re going to do
whatever they tell us to.”
Thomas thought about that for a second and realized he couldn’t possibly have disagreed more. Maybe
at one time he’d felt that way, but not now. Though discussing it with Teresa was the last thing he wanted
to do. “Maybe you’re right,” he murmured.
“When’s the last time we slept?” she asked. “I swear I can’t remember.”
Again with the act that all was well. “I do. For me, anyway. It had something to do with a gas chamber
and you whacking me over the head with a big spear.”
Teresa stretched. “I can only say sorry so many times. At least you got some rest. I didn’t sleep for one
second while you were out. I think I’ve been awake for two full days.”
“Poor baby.” Thomas yawned. He couldn’t help himself—he was tired, too.
“Mmmm?”
He looked over to see her eyes closed, her breathing slowed. She’d fallen asleep just like that. He
glanced around at the other Gladers and Group Bs. Most of them were zonked out, also. Except Minho—
he was trying to talk to some cute girl, but her eyes were closed. Jorge and Brenda were nowhere to be
found—something that struck Thomas as strange, not to mention at least a bit worrisome.
It was then that he realized he missed Brenda terribly, but his own eyelids began to droop, and
weariness and fatigue crept in. As he sank deeper into the couch, he decided he’d have time to look for
her later. Then he finally gave in and allowed the sweet darkness of unconsciousness to take him.

Categories: The Scorch Trials

The Scorch Trials - Chapter 62

Brenda looked at Thomas with panicked eyes, her face full of pain as the stranger dragged her across the
metal floor of the Berg. Toward the hatch and certain death.
When he was halfway there, Thomas acted.
He jumped forward and slammed into the man’s knees, tackling him to the floor; the gun clattered on the
ground next to him. Brenda fell to the side, but Teresa was there to catch her, pull her back from the
dangerous edge of the door. Thomas put his left forearm against the man’s throat and reached for the gun
with his other hand. His fingers found it, gripped it, pulled it close to him. He jumped up and away and
held the pistol with both hands, pointing it at the stranger sprawled on his back.
“No one else dies,” Thomas said, breathing heavily, somewhat shocked at himself. “If we haven’t done
enough to pass your stupid tests, then we fail. The tests are over.” As he said it, he wondered if this was
supposed to happen. But even that didn’t matter—he meant every word he’d said. The senseless killing
and dying had to end.
The stranger’s face softened into the slightest hint of a smile and he sat up and scooted backward until
he bumped into the wall. As he did so, the large cargo door began closing, the squeak of its hinges like
squealing pigs. No one said anything until it clanked shut, one last rush of wind surging through before it
did.
“My name’s David,” the man said, his voice loud in the new silence, broken only by the low hum of the
ship’s engines and thrusters. “And don’t worry, you’re right. It’s over. It’s all over.”
Thomas nodded mockingly. “Yeah, we’ve heard that before. This time we mean it. We’re not going to
sit back and let you treat us like rats anymore. We’re done.”
David took a moment to scan the large cargo hold, maybe seeing whether the others agreed with what
Thomas had just said. Thomas didn’t dare break his gaze, though. He had to believe that they were all
behind him.
Finally, David looked back at Thomas, then slowly got to his feet, raising a hand in conciliation as he
did so. Once he was standing, he put both hands in his pockets. “What you don’t understand is that
everything has gone and will continue to go as planned. But you’re right, the Trials are complete. We’re
taking you to a place of safety—a real place of safety. No more tests, no more lies, no more setups. No
more pretending.”
He paused. “I can only promise one thing. When you hear why we’ve put you through this, and why it’s
so important that so many of you survived, you’ll understand. I promise you’ll understand.”
Minho snorted. “That’s the biggest bunch of klunk I’ve ever heard in my life.”
Thomas couldn’t help but feel a little relief that his friend hadn’t lost his fire. “And what about the
cure? We were promised. For us and the two who helped us get here. How can we believe anything you
tell us?”
“Think what you want for now,” David said. “Things will change from here out, and you’ll get the cure,
just like you were told. As soon as we get back to headquarters. You can keep that gun, by the way—
we’ll even give you some more, if you’d like. There’ll be nothing else for you to fight against, no tests or
trials to ignore or refuse. Our Berg will land, you’ll see that you’re safe and cured, and then you can do
what you want. The only thing we’ll ever ask you to do again is to listen. Only to listen. I’m sure you’re at
least intrigued by what’s behind all this?”
Thomas wanted to scream at the man but knew it’d serve no point. Instead he answered in as calm a
voice as possible. “No more games.”
“First sign of trouble,” Minho added, “we start fighting. If that means we die, then so be it.”
David smiled fully this time. “You know, that’s exactly what we predicted you’d do at this point.” He
motioned with an arm toward a small door at the back of the cargo hold. “Shall we?”
Newt spoke up this time. “What’s next on the bloody agenda?”
“Just thought you’d like to eat something, maybe take a shower. Sleep.” He started walking around the
crowd of Gladers and girls. “It’s a very long flight.”
Thomas and the others spent a few seconds exchanging glances. But in the end they followed. They
really had no other option.

Categories: The Scorch Trials

The Scorch Trials - Chapter 61

Thomas knew they couldn’t waste any more time. No questions, no fear, no bickering. Only action.
“Come on!” he yelled, pulling Brenda’s arm as he stepped out of the pod. He slipped and toppled over,
landing with a wet smush in the mud. He pushed himself up, spitting the slimy stuff out of his mouth and
rubbing it from his eyes, and scrambled back to his feet. The rain poured down, thunder cracked from all
directions, lightning bolts lit the air in ominous flashes.
Jorge and Teresa had made it out, Brenda helping them. Thomas looked over at the Berg—maybe fifty
feet away—its cargo door now fully open, a gaping maw of an entrance to warm light inside. Shadowy
forms stood there, holding guns, waiting. They obviously didn’t intend to come out and assist anybody
onto the safe haven. The real safe haven.
“Run!” he screamed, already on the move. He held his knife in front of him, gripped tightly, in case any
of those creatures were still alive and looking for a fight.
Teresa and the others kept pace next to him.
The rain-softened ground made it hard to get good traction; Thomas slipped twice, fell down once.
Teresa grabbed his shirt and yanked until he was up and running again. Others were around them, making
the same dash for the safety of the ship. The darkness of the storm and the veil of rain and brilliant flashes
of lightning made it hard to see who was who. No time to worry about it.
From the right side, lumbering around the back end of the plane, a dozen of the bulb creatures appeared;
they headed for a spot cutting off Thomas and his friends from the open cargo door. Their blades were
slick with rain, some stained crimson. At least half of their creepy glowing bulbs had been busted, and
their jerky movements showed it. But they looked as dangerous as ever. And still, the people in the Berg
did nothing, only watched.
“Go right through ’em!” Thomas yelled. Minho appeared, along with Newt and a few other Gladers,
joining the charge. Harriet and a few of the Group B girls, too. Everyone seemed to understand the plan,
as slight as it was: fight off these last few monsters and get out of there.
Maybe for the first time since entering the Glade weeks earlier, Thomas felt no fear. He didn’t know if
he’d ever feel it again. He didn’t know why, but something had changed. Lightning exploded around him,
someone screamed, the rain intensified. Wind tore through the air, pelting him with small rocks and drops
of water that hurt equally. The creatures swiped their blades through the air, screaming their disturbing
roar as they waited for battle. Thomas ran on, knife held above his head.
No fear.
Three feet from the center creature he jumped into the air, kicking forward, both legs held tightly
together. He slammed his feet into one of the orange bulbs protruding from the middle of the monster’s
chest. It burst and sizzled; the creature wailed something hideous and fell backward, slamming to the
ground.
Thomas landed in the mud and rolled to the side. Immediately jumped up and danced around the
creature, slashing and poking, bursting the glowing growths.
Pop, pop, pop.
Dodging and jumping away from the futile slashes of the creature’s blades. Retaliating, stabbing. Pop,
pop, pop. Only three bulbs were left; it could barely move. Thomas straddled the thing in a burst of
confidence and quickly threw down the final vicious thrusts to end it.
The last bulb burst and fizzled out. Dead.
Thomas got up, spun around to see if someone else needed help. Teresa had finished off hers. Minho
and Jorge as well. Newt was there, favoring his bad leg, Brenda helping him stab out the remaining bulbs
on his foe.
A few seconds later it ended. No creature moved. No orange lights shone. It was over.
Thomas, breathing heavily, looked up at the entrance to the ship, only twenty feet away. Even as he did,
its thrusters ignited and the ship started to lift off the ground.
“It’s leaving!” Thomas screamed as loudly as he could, pointing frantically at their only means of
escape. “Hurry!”
The word had barely escaped his mouth when Teresa grabbed him by the arm, pulling as she ran for the
ship. Thomas stumbled, then righted himself, pounding his feet in the mud. He heard the crack of thunder
behind them, saw a flash of lightning fill the sky. Another scream. Others beside him, around him, in front
of him now, all running. Newt with his limp, Minho next to him, eyeing him to make sure he didn’t fall.
The Berg had reached a point three feet off the ground, slowly rising and turning at the same time, ready
at any second to shift those thrusters and zip away. A couple of Gladers and three girls reached it first,
dove onto the platform of the open cargo door. Still it rose. Others reached it, climbed on, scrambled
inside.
Then Thomas made it with Teresa. The open hatch was chest-high now. He jumped and pushed his
hands down on the flat metal, arms stiff, stomach pressed against the thick edge. Swung his right leg up,
got leverage, rolled his body fully onto the door. The ship, still rising. Others climbing on, reaching to
pull others up. Teresa, halfway on, trying to find a handhold.
Thomas reached out and grabbed her hand, pulled her in. She collapsed on top of him, shared a brief
look of victory. Then she was off, and both of them approached the edge of the door to see if anyone
needed help.
The Berg was now six feet above the ground, starting to tilt. Three people still hung from the edge.
Harriet and Newt were pulling a girl in. Minho was helping Aris. But Brenda held on only with her
hands, her body dangling as she kicked her feet and tried to pull herself up.
Thomas dropped to his stomach and scooted closer, reached out and grabbed her right arm. Teresa got
the other one. The metal of the cargo door was wet and slick; when Thomas pulled on Brenda he started
sliding out, but then stopped abruptly. A quick look behind him revealed that Jorge had planted his butt
and feet, holding tightly to both Thomas and Teresa.
Thomas looked back at Brenda, started pulling again. With Teresa’s help, she finally came over the
edge enough for her stomach to gain purchase; it was easy from there. As she crawled on and farther in,
Thomas took another look outside at the ground, slowly moving away. Nothing but those horrific
creatures, lifeless and wet, full of saggy pockets of flesh that had once been full and brightly lit. A few
dead human bodies, but not many, and no one Thomas was close to.
He scooted backward, away from the edge, feeling an immense amount of relief. They’d made it, most
of them. They’d made it through Cranks and lightning and hideous monsters. They’d made it. He bumped
into Teresa, turned toward her, pulled her in and hugged her tightly, forgetting what had happened for a
second. They’d made it.
“Who are these two people?”
Thomas jerked away from Teresa to see who’d shouted—it was a man with short red hair, holding a
black pistol pointed at Brenda and Jorge, who sat next to each other, shivering and wet and bruised.
“Somebody answer me!” the man yelled again.
Thomas spoke up before he could think about it. “They helped us get through the city—we wouldn’t be
here if it weren’t for them.”
The man snapped his head toward Thomas. “You … picked them up along the way?”
Thomas nodded, not liking where this was going. “We made a deal with them. Promised they’d get the
cure, too. We still have fewer people than we started with.”
“Doesn’t matter,” the man said. “We didn’t say you could bring citizens!”
The Berg continued to climb higher in the sky, but the gaping door didn’t close. Wind whipped through
the wide hole; any one of them could go tumbling to their death if they hit turbulence.
Thomas got to his feet anyway, determined to defend the pact he’d made. “Well, you told us to come
here, and we did what we had to do!”
Their gun-toting host paused, seemed to consider this line of reasoning. “Sometimes I forget how little
you people understand what’s going on. Fine, you can keep one of ’em. The other goes.”
Thomas tried not to show the jolt this gave him. “What do you mean … the other goes?”
The man clicked something on the gun, then held its end closer to Brenda’s head. “We don’t have time
for this! You have five seconds to choose the one who stays. Don’t choose and they both die. One.”
“Wait!” Thomas looked at Brenda, at Jorge. They both stared at the floor, said nothing. Their faces pale
with fear.
“Two.”
Thomas suppressed the rising panic, closed his eyes. There was nothing new here. No, he understood
things now. Knew what he had to do.
“Three.”
No more fear. No more shock. No more questioning. Take what comes. Play along. Pass the tests. Pass
the Trials.
“Four!” The man’s face reddened. “Choose right now or they both die!”
Thomas opened his eyes and stepped forward. Then he pointed at Brenda and said the two most foul
words to ever pass through his lips.
“Kill her.”
Because of the odd pronouncement that only one could stay, Thomas thought he understood, thought he
knew what would happen. That it was yet another Variable and they’d take whomever he didn’t choose.
But he was wrong.
The man jammed his gun into the waistband of his pants, then reached down and grabbed Brenda’s shirt
with two hands, yanking the girl to her feet. Without a word, he moved toward open air, taking her with
him.

Categories: The Scorch Trials

The Scorch Trials - Chapter 60

The lightning exploded all around him with deafening cracks of thunder; plumes of dirt flew into the air
from every direction. Several people screamed—one was cut off abruptly, a girl. And that burning smell.
Overwhelming. The strikes of electricity subsided as quickly as they had begun. But light continued to
flash in the clouds, and rain started to pour down in sheets.
Thomas hadn’t moved during that first flurry of lightning. There was no reason to think he’d be any
safer in another spot than where he lay. But after the onslaught, he scrambled to his feet to look around,
see what he could do or where he could run before it happened again.
The creature he’d been fighting was dead, half of its body blackened, the other half gone. Teresa stood
over her foe, slamming the butt of her spear down and smashing the last bulb; its sparks died with a hiss.
Minho was on the ground, but slowly getting to his feet. Newt stood there, breathing in and out, deep
heaving breaths. Frypan doubled over and threw up. Some were lying on the ground; others—like Brenda
and Jorge—still fighting the monsters. Thunder boomed all around them and lightning glinted in the rain.
Thomas had to do something. Teresa wasn’t too far away; she stood a couple of steps from her dead
creature, bent over, hands on her knees.
We have to find shelter! he said in her mind.
How much time do we have left?
Thomas squinted at his watch closely. Ten minutes.
We should get inside the pods . She pointed at the closest one, which still lay open like a perfectly cut
eggshell, its halves surely full of water by this point.
He liked the idea. What if we can’t close it?
Got any better plans?
No. He grabbed her hand and started running.
We need to tell the others! she said as they approached the pod.
They’ll figure it out. He knew they couldn’t wait—more strikes could hit them at any second. They’d
all be dead by the time he and Teresa tried to communicate with anyone. He had to trust his friends to
save themselves. Knew he could trust them.
They reached the pod just as several bolts of electricity came zigzagging down from the sky, striking in
blistering explosions all around them. Dirt and rain flew everywhere; Thomas’s ears rang. He looked
inside the left half of the container, saw nothing but a small pool of dirty water. A horrible smell wafted
up from it.
“Hurry!” he yelled as he climbed in.
Teresa followed him. They didn’t need to speak to know what to do next. They both got on their knees,
then leaned forward to grab the far end of the other half—it had a rubbery lining, easy to grip. Thomas
braced his midsection on the lip of the pod, then pulled up, straining with every bit of strength he had left.
The other half lifted and swung toward them.
Just as Thomas was repositioning himself to sit, Brenda and Jorge ran up to them. Thomas felt a rush of
relief at seeing them okay.
“Is there room for us?” Jorge screamed over the noise of the storm.
“Get in!” Teresa yelled back in answer.
The two of them slipped over the edge and splashed into the large container, a tight fit but manageable.
Thomas scooted to the far end to give them more room, holding the cover just barely open—the rain
drummed on its outer surface. Once everyone was settled, he and Teresa ducked their heads and let the
pod close completely. Other than the hollow thrum of the rain and the distant explosions of lightning and
the gasping of breaths, it grew relatively silent. Though Thomas still heard that same ringing in his ears.
He could only hope his other friends had made it safely to pods of their own.
“Thanks for letting us in, muchacho,” Jorge said when everyone seemed to have caught their breath.
“Of course,” Thomas replied. The darkness inside the container was absolute, but Brenda was right
next to him, then Jorge, then Teresa on the far end.
Brenda spoke up. “Thought you might’ve had second thoughts about bringing us along. Would’ve been a
good chance to get rid of us.”
“Please,” Thomas muttered. He was too tired to care how it sounded. Everyone had almost died, and
they might not be out of the woods yet.
“So is this our safe haven?” Teresa asked.
Thomas clicked the little light button on his watch; they had seven minutes till the time was up. “Right
now, I sure hope so. Maybe in a few minutes these shuck squares of land will spin around and drop us
into some nice comfy room where we can all live happily ever after. Or not.”
Crack!
Thomas yelped—something had slammed into the top of the pod and made the loudest sound he’d ever
heard, an earsplitting crash. A small hole—just a sliver of gray light—had appeared in the ceiling of their
shelter, beads of water forming and dropping quickly.
“Had to be lightning,” Teresa said.
Thomas rubbed his ears, the ringing worse now. “Couple more of those and well be right back where
we started.” His voice sounded hollow.
Another check of the watch. Five minutes. The water drip-drip-dripped into the puddle; that horrible
smell lingered; the bells in Thomas’s head lessened.
“This isn’t quite what I imagined, hermano,” Jorge said. “Thought we’d show up here and you’d
convince the big bosses to take us in. Give us that cure. Didn’t think we’d be holed up in a stinking
bathtub waiting to be electrocuted.”
“How much longer?” Teresa asked.
Thomas looked. “Three minutes.”
Outside, the storm raged, bursts of lightning slamming into the ground, the rain pounding.
Another boom and crack shook the pod, widened the split in the ceiling enough that water began rushing
in, splashing all over Brenda and Jorge. Something hissed and steam seeped in as well, the lightning
having heated up the outside material.
“We’re not gonna last much longer no matter what happens!” Brenda shouted. “It’s almost worse sitting
here and waiting for it!”
“There’s only two minutes left!” Thomas yelled back at her. “Just hold on!”
A sound started up outside. Faint at first, barely discernible over the noises of the storm. A humming.
Deep and low. It grew in volume, seemed to vibrate Thomas’s whole body.
“What is that?” Teresa asked.
“No idea,” Thomas answered. “But based on our day, I’m sure it’s not good. We just have to last
another minute or so.”
The sound got louder and deeper. Overwhelming the thunder and rain now. The walls of the pod
vibrated. Thomas heard a rushing wind outside, different somehow from what had been blowing all day.
Powerful. Almost … artificial.
“There’s only thirty seconds left,” Thomas announced, suddenly having a change of heart. “Maybe you
guys are right. Maybe we’re missing something important. I … I think we should look.”
“What?” Jorge responded.
“We need to see what’s making that sound. Come on, help me open this back up.”
“And if a nice big lightning bolt comes down and fries my butt?”
Thomas put the palms of his hands on the ceiling. “We gotta take a chance! Come on—push!”
“He’s right,” Teresa said, and she braced her hands to help.
Brenda copied her, and soon Jorge joined them.
“Just about halfway,” Thomas said. “Ready?”
After getting a few positive grunts, he said, “One … two … three!”
They all pushed toward the sky, and their strength ended up being way too much. The lid flipped up and
over and crashed to the ground, leaving the pod fully open. Rain pummeled them, flying horizontally,
captured by a ferocious wind.
Thomas leaned on the edge of the pod and gaped at what hovered in the air just thirty feet off the
ground, lowering rapidly to land. It was huge and round, with flickering lights and burning thrusters of
blue flame. It was the same ship that had saved him after he was shot. The Berg.
Thomas glanced at his watch just in time to see the last second tick down. Looked back up.
The Berg touched down on clawlike landing gear and a huge cargo door in its metal belly began to
open.

Categories: The Scorch Trials

The Scorch Trials - Chapter 59

Teresa handed Thomas a really long knife, almost a sword. He couldn’t imagine where she’d been hiding
these things, but she now held a short dagger in addition to her spear.
As the lighted giants stepped closer and closer, Minho and Harriet spoke to their respective groups,
moving them around, positioning them, their shouts and commands torn away by the wind before Thomas
could hear anything. He dared take his eyes off the approaching monsters long enough to look at the sky.
Tendrils of lightning forked and arced across the bottom of the dark clouds, which seemed to hang only a
few dozen feet above them. The acrid smell of electricity permeated the air.
Thomas looked back down, concentrated on the creature closest to him. Minho and Harriet had been
able to get the groups to stand together in an almost perfect circle, facing outward. Teresa stood next to
Thomas, and he would’ve said something to her if he could’ve thought of anything. He was speechless.
WICKED’s latest abominations were only thirty feet away.
Teresa finally elbowed him in the ribs. He looked to see her pointing at one of the creatures, telling
Thomas—making sure he knew—that she’d chosen her foe. He nodded, then gestured toward the one he’d
been thinking was his all along.
Twenty-five feet away.
Thomas had the sudden thought that it was a mistake to wait for them—that they needed to be spread out
more. Minho must’ve had the same idea.
“Now!” their leader yelled, a bare and distant bark because of the storm’s sounds. “Charge them!”
A slew of thoughts spun through Thomas’s mind in that instant. Worry for Teresa, despite the changes
between them. Worry for Brenda—standing stoically just a few people down the line from him—and
regret over how they had barely spoken since being reunited. He imagined her having come all this way
only to be killed by a vicious man-made creature. He thought of the Grievers, and his and Chuck and
Teresa’s charge back in the Maze to get to the Cliff and the Hole, the Gladers fighting and dying for them
so they could punch in the code and stop it all.
He thought of all they’d gone through to arrive at this point, once again facing a biotech army sent by
WICKED. He wondered what it all meant, whether it was worth trying to survive anymore. The image of
Chuck taking that knife for him popped into his head. And that did it. Snapped him out of those
nanoseconds of frozen doubt and fear. Screaming at the top of his lungs, he wielded his huge knife with
both hands above his head and rushed forward, straight for his monster.
To his left and right, the others also charged, but he ignored them. He had to, forced himself to. If he
couldn’t take care of his own assignment, worrying about others wouldn’t amount to anything.
He closed in. Fifteen feet. Ten feet. Five. The creature had stopped walking, bracing its legs in a
fighting stance, hands outstretched, blades pointing directly at Thomas. Those shining orange lights pulsed
now, flaring and receding, flaring and receding, as if the hideous thing actually had a heart somewhere
inside. It was disturbing to see no face on the monster, but it helped Thomas think of it as nothing more
than a machine. Nothing more than a man-made weapon that wanted him dead.
Right before he reached the creature, Thomas made a decision. He dropped to slide on his knees and
shins and swung the swordlike weapon in an arc behind and around him, slamming the blade into the
monster’s left leg with a full and powerful two-handed thrust. The knife cut an inch into its skin but then
clanked against something hard enough to send a jolt shivering up both of Thomas’s arms.
The creature didn’t move, didn’t retract, didn’t let out any sort of sound, human or inhuman. Instead it
swiped downward with both blade-studded hands where Thomas now knelt before it, his sword
embedded in the monster’s flesh. Thomas jerked it free and lunged backward just as those blades
clattered against each other where his head had been. He fell on his back and scooted away from the
creature as it took two steps forward, kicking out with the knives on its feet, barely missing Thomas.
The monster let out a roar this time—a sound almost exactly like the haunted moans of the Grievers—
and dropped to the ground, thrashing its arms, trying to impale Thomas. Thomas spun away, rolling three
times as he heard metal tips scraping along the dirt-packed ground. He finally took a chance and jumped
to his feet, immediately sprinting several yards away before turning around, sword gripped in his hands.
The creature was just getting to its own feet, slicing at the air with its stubby bladed fingers.
Thomas sucked in huge gulps of air and could see the others battling in his peripheral vision. Minho
jabbing and stabbing with knives in both hands, the monster actually taking steps backward, away from
him. Newt scrambling across the ground, the creature he fought lumbering after him, obviously injured.
Slowing. Teresa was the closest to him, jumping and dodging and poking her foe with the butt of her
spear. Why was she doing that? Her monster seemed to be badly hurt as well.
Thomas pulled his attention back to his own battle. A blur of silver movement made him duck, a wisp
of wind in his hair from the swipe of the creature’s arm. Thomas spun, crouched close to the ground,
stabbing at anything he could as the monster pursued him, barely missing him with several more attacks.
Thomas connected with one of the orange bulb growths, smashing it in a flash of sparks; the light died
instantly. Knowing his luck had to be running short, he dove toward the ground, tucking and rolling again
until he sprang to his feet a couple of yards away.
The creature had paused—at least as long as it had taken Thomas to make his escape move—but now it
came after him again. An idea formed in Thomas’s mind, and it grew to clarity when he looked back at
Teresa’s fight, her creature now moving in jilted, slow attacks. She kept after the bulbs, popping them as
they exploded in that same display of fireworks. She’d destroyed at least three-fourths of the odd growths.
The bulbs. All he needed to do was destroy the bulbs. Somehow they were linked to the creature’s
power or life or strength. Could it really be that easy?
A quick glance around the rest of the battlefield showed that a few others had also gotten the idea, but
most hadn’t, fighting with bloody desperation to hack at limbs, muscles, skin, missing the bulbs entirely. A
couple of people already lay on the ground, covered in wounds, lifeless. One boy. One girl.
Thomas changed his whole method. Instead of charging recklessly, he jumped in and took a jab at one
of the bulbs on the monster’s chest. He missed, slicing into the wrinkled, yellowish skin. The creature
swiped at him, but he pulled back just as the very tips of the blades ripped jagged holes in his shirt. Then
he thrust again, poking once more at the same bulb. He connected this time, bursting it and sending out a
spray of sparks. The creature halted for a full second, then snapped back to battle mode.
Thomas circled the creature, jumping in and back again, poking, jabbing, thrusting.
Pop, pop, pop.
One of the monster’s blades sliced across his forearm, leaving a long line of bright red. Thomas went
in again. And again. Again.
Pop, pop, pop. Sparks flying, the creature shuddering and jerking with each break.
The pause got a little bit longer with every successful stab. Thomas felt a few more scrapes and slices,
but nothing serious. He kept at it, attacking those orange spheres.
Pop, pop, pop.
Every small victory sapped the creature’s strength, and it gradually began to visibly slump, though it
didn’t stop trying to cut Thomas to pieces. Bulb by bulb, each one easier than the one before it, Thomas
attacked relentlessly. If only he could quickly finish it off, make it die. Then he could run around and help
others. End this thing once and for—
A blinding light flashed behind him, then a sound like the entire universe exploding ripped away his
brief moment of exhilaration and hope. A wave of invisible power knocked him over and he fell flat onto
his stomach, the sword clattering away from him. The creature fell, too, and a burnt smell singed the air.
Thomas rolled onto his side to look, saw a massive black hole in the ground, charred and smoking. A
bladed foot and hand from one of the monsters lay on the hole’s edge. No sign of the rest of the body.
It’d been a lightning strike. Right behind him. The storm had finally broken.
Even as he had the thought, he looked up to see thick shards of white heat start falling from the black
clouds above.

Categories: The Scorch Trials

The Scorch Trials - Chapter 58

The squeal of metal was deafening as the square sections slowly spun on their axles. Thomas had his
hands to his ears, trying to keep the sound out. The others in the group were doing the same. All around
them, scattered evenly and fully encircling the area in which they stood, patches of desert ground rotated
until they disappeared, each one eventually replaced with a large black square when it finally settled with
a loud clank, one of those bulbous white coffins resting on top. At least thirty in all.
The scream of metal rubbing against metal stopped. No one spoke. The wind ripped across the land,
blowing dust and dirt in streams across the rounded containers. It made a gritty pinging sound. There was
so much of it, it blended into a noise that made Thomas’s spine itch; he had to squint to keep stuff out of
his eyes. Nothing else had moved since the foreign, almost alien objects had been revealed. There was
only that sound and wind and cold and stinging eyes.
Tom? Teresa called to him.
Yeah.
You remember those, right?
Yeah.
You think Grievers are inside?
Thomas realized that was exactly what he thought, but he’d also finally accepted that he could never
expect anything. He reasoned it out for a second before he answered. I don’t know. I mean, the Grievers
had really moist bodies—it’d be hard on them out here . It seemed like a stupid thing to say, but he was
grasping for anything.
Maybe we’re meant to … get inside them, she said after a pause. Maybe they are the safe haven, or
they’ll transport us somewhere.
Thomas hated the idea, but thought that maybe she was right. He tore his eyes away from the large pods
and looked for her. She was already walking toward him. Fortunately, she was alone. He couldn’t handle
both her and Brenda right then.
“Hey,” he said out loud, but the wind seemed to carry the sound away before it even left his mouth. He
started to reach out for her hand but then pulled it back, almost forgetting how things had changed. She
didn’t seem to notice as she walked over to Minho and Newt and nudged both of them in greeting. They
turned to face her and Thomas moved closer to conference with them.
“So what do we do?” Minho asked. He gave Teresa an annoyed look like he didn’t want her to be any
part of the decision making.
Newt answered. “If those things have bloody Grievers in ’em, we best start gettin’ ready to fight the
shuck buggers.”
“What’re you guys talking about?”
Thomas turned to see Harriet and Sonya—it’d been Harriet who’d spoken. And Brenda stood right
behind them, with Jorge by her side.
“Oh, great,” Minho muttered. “The two queens of glorious Group B.”
Harriet just acted like she hadn’t heard. “I’m assuming you all saw those pods back in your WICKED
chamber, too. They had to be where the Grievers charged up or whatever it was they did.”
“Yeah,” Newt said. “Gotta be that.”
In the sky above, thunder crackled and boomed, and those flashes of light grew brighter. The wind tore
at everyone’s clothes and hair and everything smelled wet but dusty—a strange combination. Thomas
checked the time again. “We’ve only got twenty-five minutes. We’re either gonna be fighting Grievers or
we need to get inside those big coffins at the right time. Maybe they’re the—”
A sharp hiss cut through the air from all directions. The sound pierced Thomas’s eardrums and he
clamped his hands to the sides of his head again. Movement on the perimeter surrounding them caught his
attention, and he watched carefully what was happening with the large white pods.
A line of dark blue light had appeared on one side of each container, then expanded as the top half of
the object began to move upward, opening on hinges like the lid of a coffin. It made no sound, at least not
enough to be heard over the rushing wind and rumbling thunder. Thomas sensed the Gladers and the others
slowly moving closer together, forming a tighter knot. Everyone was trying to get as far away from the
pods as possible—and soon they were a coiled pack of bodies encircled by the thirty or so rounded white
containers.
The lids continued moving until they’d all swung open and dropped to the ground. Something bulky
rested inside each vessel. Thomas couldn’t make out much, but from where he stood he couldn’t see
anything like the odd appendages of the Grievers. Nothing moved, but he knew not to let his guard down.
Teresa? he said to her mind. He didn’t dare try talking loudly enough to be heard—but he had to talk to
someone or go nuts.
Yeah?
Someone should go take a look. See what’s in it . He said it, but he really didn’t want to be the one to
do it.
Let’s go together, she said easily.
She surprised him with her courage. Sometimes you have the worst ideas, he responded. He’d tried to
make it feel sarcastic, but he knew the truth of it far more than he wanted to admit to himself. He was
terrified.
“Thomas!” Minho called. The wind, still wild, was drowned out by the approaching thunder and
lightning now, cracking and exploding in brilliant displays above them and on the horizon. The storm was
about to fully beat down its fury on them.
“What?” Thomas yelled back.
“You, me, and Newt! Let’s go check it out!”
Thomas was just about to move when something slipped out of one of the pods. A collective gasp
escaped those closest to Thomas, and he turned for a better look. Things were moving in all the pods,
things he couldn’t quite understand at first. Whatever they were, they were definitely coming out of their
oblong homes. Thomas focused on the pod nearest to him, strained his eyes to discern what exactly he
was about to face.
A misshapen arm hung over the edge, and its hand dangled a few inches above the ground. On it were
four disfigured fingers—stubs of sickly beige flesh—none of them the same length. They wiggled and
grasped for something that wasn’t there, as if the creature inside was searching to get a grip to pull itself
out. The arm was covered with wrinkles and lumps, and there was something completely strange right
where what passed for an elbow was located. A perfectly rounded protrusion or growth, maybe four
inches in diameter, glowing bright orange.
It looked like the thing had a lightbulb glued to its arm.
The monster continued to emerge. A leg flopped out, its foot a fleshy mass, four knobs of toes wriggling
as much as its fingers. And on the knee, another one of those impossible orange spheres of light,
seemingly growing right out of its skin.
“What is that thing?” Minho shouted over the noise of the surging storm.
No one answered. Thomas was dazed, staring at the creature—mesmerized and terrified at the same
time. He did finally look away long enough to see that similar monsters were coming out of every pod—
all at the same pace—then returned his attention to the closest one.
It had somehow gained purchase enough with its right arm and leg to begin pulling the rest of its body
out. Thomas looked on in horror as the abominable thing flopped and wiggled until it lurched over the
edge of the open pod and stumbled to the ground. Roughly human-shaped, though at least a couple of feet
taller than anyone around Thomas, its body was naked and thick, pockmarked and wrinkled. Most
disturbing were more of those bulbous growths, maybe two dozen total, spread over the thing’s body and
glowing with brilliant orange light. Several on its chest and back. One on each elbow and knee—the bulb
on the right knee had busted in a flurry of sparks when the creature landed on the ground—and several
sticking out of a big lump of … what had to be a head, though it didn’t have any eyes, nose, mouth or ears.
No hair, either.
The monster got to its feet, swayed a bit as it balanced, then turned to face the group of humans. A quick
glance around showed that each pod had delivered its creature, all of them now standing in a circle
around the Gladers and Group B.
In unison, the creatures raised their arms until they pointed toward the sky. Then, all at once, thin
blades shot out of the tips of their stubby fingers, out of their toes, out of their shoulders. The flashes of
lightning in the sky glittered off their surface, sharp and gleaming silver. Though there was no sign of any
kind of mouth, a deathly, creepy moan emanated from their bodies—it was a sound Thomas could feel
more than hear. And it had to be loud to be heard over the terrible thunder.
Maybe Grievers would’ve been better, Teresa said inside Thomas’s mind.
Well, they’re enough alike that it’s obvious who created these things , he said back, straining to stay
calm.
Minho turned quickly and faced the crowd of still-gaping people surrounding Thomas. “There’s about
one for each of us! Grab whatever you got for a weapon!”
Almost as if they’d heard the challenge, the lightbulb creatures started moving, walking forward. Their
first couple of steps were lumbering, but then they recovered, growing steady and strong and agile.
Coming closer with every step.

Categories: The Scorch Trials

The Scorch Trials - Chapter 57

Despite the wind and the hubbub of people, the world quieted around Thomas for a minute, as if his ears
had been stuffed with cotton. He fell to his knees and numbly reached out to touch the flapping orange
ribbon. This was the safe haven? Not a building, a shelter, something?
Then, as quickly as it had disappeared, sound rushed back in, snapping him back to reality. Mostly the
rush of wind and the chatter of conversation.
He turned back to Teresa and Minho, who stood side by side, Aris behind them peeking over their
shoulders.
Thomas glanced at his watch. “We have over an hour left. Our safe haven is a stick in the ground?”
Confusion muddled his mind—he wasn’t quite sure what to think or say.
“Wasn’t so bad, when you think about it,” Minho said. “More than half of us made it here. Looks like
even more of the girlie group.”
Thomas stood up, trying to control his anger. “The Flare turn you crazy already? Yeah, we got here.
Safe and sound. To a stick.”
Minho scoffed at him. “Dude, they wouldn’t send us here for no reason. We made it in the time they
gave us. Now we just wait until the clock ticks down and something’ll happen.”
“That’s what worries me,” Thomas said.
“Hate to say it,” Teresa added, “but I agree with Thomas. After everything they’ve done to us, it’d be
way too easy to have a little sign here, and then they come get us in a nice helicopter as a reward.
Something bad’s gonna happen.”
“Whatever you say, traitor,” Minho said, his face hiding none of the hatred he felt for Teresa. “I don’t
want to hear another word from you.” He walked away, angrier than Thomas had ever seen him.
Thomas looked at Teresa, who was visibly taken aback. “You shouldn’t be surprised.”
She just shrugged. “I’m sick of apologizing. I did what I had to do.”
Thomas couldn’t believe she was serious. “Whatever. I need to find Newt. I want—”
Before he could finish, Brenda appeared out of the crowd, glancing back and forth between him and
Teresa. The wind tore through her long hair, whipping it frenziedly so that she kept pushing it behind her
ears only to have it fly out again.
“Brenda,” he said. For some reason he felt guilty.
“Hey there,” Brenda said, walking up to stand right in front of him and Teresa. “This the girl you were
tellin’ me about? When you and I were snuggling in that truck?”
“Yeah.” The word popped out of Thomas’s mouth before he could stop it. “No. I mean … yeah.”
Teresa held her hand out to Brenda, who shook it. “I’m Teresa.”
“Nice to meet you,” Brenda replied. “I’m a Crank. I’m slowly going crazy. I keep wanting to chew off
my own fingers and randomly kill people. Thomas here promised to save me.” Though she was obviously
joking, she didn’t even crack a smile.
Thomas had to hide a wince. “Funny, Brenda.”
“Glad to see you still have a sense of humor about it,” Teresa said. But her face could’ve turned water
to ice.
Thomas looked down at his watch. Fifty-five minutes left. “I, um, need to talk to Newt.” He turned and
quickly walked away before either girl could say anything. He wanted to be as far away from both of them
as possible.
Newt was sitting on the ground with Frypan and Minho, all three looking as if they were waiting for the
end of the world.
The tearing wind had gained a moisture to it, and the billowing, churning clouds above them had
lowered considerably, like a dark fog dropping to swallow the earth. Glimpses of light flashed here and
there in the sky, burning patches of purple and orange in the grayness. Thomas hadn’t seen an actual
lightning bolt yet, but he knew they were coming. The first big storm had begun just like this.
“Hey, Tommy,” Newt said when Thomas joined them. He sat down next to his friend and wrapped his
arms around his knees. Two simple words with nothing behind them. It was as if Thomas had just gone for
a leisurely walk instead of being kidnapped and almost killed.
“Glad to see you guys made it here,” Thomas said.
Frypan snorted his usual animal-like bark of a laugh. “Same back at ya. Looks like you had more fun,
though. Hangin’ with your love goddess. Guess you two kissed and made up?”
“Not exactly,” Thomas said. “It wasn’t fun.”
“Well, what happened?” Minho asked. “How can you trust her after all that?”
Thomas hesitated at first, but he knew he had to tell them everything. And there was no better time than
the present. He sucked in a deep breath and started talking. He told them about WICKED’s plan for him,
the camp, his talk with Group B, the gas chamber. Still none of it made sense, but he felt a little better
telling his friends.
“And you forgave that witch?” Minho asked when Thomas finally finished. “I won’t. Whatever those
shuck WICKED people wanna do, fine by me. Whatever you wanna do, fine by me. But I don’t trust her, I
don’t trust Aris, and I don’t like either one of them.”
Newt seemed to consider it more deeply. “They went through all that—all that planning and acting—
just to make you feel betrayed? Doesn’t make any bloody sense.”
“Tell me about it,” Thomas muttered. “And no, I haven’t forgiven her. But for now I think we’re in the
same boat.” He looked around—most people were sitting down, staring off into the distance. Not much
conversation, and not a whole lot of mingling between the two groups. “What about you guys? How’d you
make it here?”
“Found a gap through the mountains,” Minho answered. “Had to fight through some Cranks camping in
a cave, but other than that, no problems. Food and water’s almost out, though. And my feet hurt. And I’m
pretty sure another big bolt of shuck lightning’s about to come down and make me look like a piece of
Frypan’s bacon.”
“Yeah,” Thomas said. He glanced back at the mountains, guessed that all in all they’d probably come
about four miles from the base. “Maybe we should bag this whole safe haven thing and try to find shelter.”
But even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t an option. At least not until the time ran out.
“No way,” Newt replied. “We didn’t come this far to go back now. Let’s just hope the buggin’ storm
holds off a little longer.” He looked up at the almost black clouds with a grimace.
The other three Gladers had grown silent. The wind had continued to pick up, and its rushing roars and
whips now made it hard to hear each other anyway. Thomas looked at his watch.
Thirty-five minutes. No way this storm would hold for—
“What’s that!” Minho shouted, jumping to his feet; he pointed at a spot over Thomas’s shoulder.
Thomas turned to look as he stood up, alarm igniting inside him. The terror on Minho’s face had been
unmistakable.
About thirty feet from the group, a large section of the desert ground was … opening. A perfect square
—maybe fifteen feet wide—pivoted on a diagonal axis as the dirt-packed side slowly spun away from
them and what had lain underneath rose up to replace it. The sound of groaning, twisting steel pierced the
air, louder than the roaring wind. Soon the rotating square had fully flipped, and where once had been
desert ground now lay a section of black material, with an odd object sitting on top of it.
It was oblong and white with rounded edges. Thomas had seen something just like it before. Several of
them, in fact. After they’d escaped the Maze and entered the huge chamber where the Grievers had come
from, they’d seen several of these coffinlike containers. He hadn’t had much time to think about it then, but
seeing it now, he thought those must’ve been where the Grievers stayed—slept?—when not hunting
humans in the Maze.
Before he had time to react, more sections of the desert floor—surrounding their group in a large circle
—started to rotate open like dark, gaping jaws.
Dozens of them.

Categories: The Scorch Trials

The Scorch Trials - Chapter 56

The wind intensified, whipping and swirling.
Thunder rumbled in the darkening sky, giving Thomas an excuse to pull away from Teresa. He decided
again to hide his hard feelings. Time was running out and they still had a long way to go.
Doing his best acting job, he gave Teresa a smile and said, “Guess I got it—you did a bunch of weird
stuff, but you were forced to, and now I’m alive. That’s it, right?”
“That’s about it.”
“Then I’m gonna quit thinking about it. We need to catch up with the others.” The best chance he had to
make it to the safe haven was to work with Teresa and Aris, so he would. He could think about Teresa
and all she’d done later.
“If you say so,” she said with a forced smile, as if she sensed that something wasn’t quite right. Or
maybe she didn’t like the prospect of facing the Gladers after what had happened.
“Are you guys done up there?” Aris yelled, still facing the other direction.
“Yes!” Teresa called back. “And don’t expect me to ever kiss you on the cheek again. I think my lips
have a fungus now.”
Thomas almost gagged at hearing that. He set off down the mountain again, moving before Teresa tried
to hold his hand.
* * *
It took another hour to get to the bottom of the mountain. The slope leveled a bit as they got closer,
allowing them to increase their pace. Eventually the switchbacks stopped altogether, and they jogged the
last mile or so to the flat and desolate wasteland stretching to the horizon. The air was hot, but the
overcast sky and the wind kept it bearable.
Thomas still couldn’t get a very good look at the slowly converging Groups A and B up ahead,
especially now that he’d lost the bird’s-eye view and dust had clouded the air. But both the boys and the
girls still moved in their own tight packs, heading north. Even from his vantage point, they appeared to be
leaning into the stiffening wind as they walked.
Thomas’s eyes stung from the dirt flying through the air. He kept wiping at them, which only made it
worse, made the surrounding skin feel raw. The world continued to darken as the clouds thickened in the
sky above.
After a quick break to eat and drink—their remaining supplies were dwindling fast—the three of them
took a moment to observe the other groups.
“They’re just walking up there,” Teresa said, pointing ahead with one hand while shielding her eyes
from the wind with the other. “Why aren’t they running?”
“Because we still have over three hours until the deadline,” Aris responded, looking at his watch.
“Unless we totally figured wrong, the safe haven should be only a few miles from this side of the
mountains. But I don’t see anything.”
Thomas hated to admit it, but the hope that they were just missing something from a distance had faded
away. “By the way they’re dragging, they obviously can’t see it, either. It must not be there—they don’t
have anything to run to but more desert.”
Aris glanced at the gray-black sky. “Looks ugly up there. What if we get another one of those nice
lightning storms?”
“We’d be better off staying in the mountains if that happens,” Thomas said. Wouldn’t that be a perfect
way to end all this, he thought. Burned to a crisp by bolts of electricity while searching for some safe
haven that had never been there in the first place.
“Let’s just catch up to them,” Teresa said. “Then we can figure out what to do.” She turned to look at
both boys and put her hands on her hips. “You guys ready?”
“Yeah,” Thomas said. He was trying not to sink into the pit of panic and worry that threatened to
swallow him. There had to be an answer to all this. Had to.
Aris just shrugged in response.
“Then let’s run,” Teresa said. And before Thomas could answer she was already gone, with Aris close
at her heels.
Thomas took a deep breath. For some reason it all reminded him of the first time he’d run out into the
Maze with Minho. Which worried him. He exhaled and set off after the other two.
After maybe twenty minutes of running, the wind forcing him to work twice as hard as he’d ever had to in
the Maze, Thomas spoke out to Teresa in his mind. I think I’ve had some more memories come back to
me lately. In my dreams . He’d been wanting to tell her, but not really in front of Aris. A test, more than
anything, to see how she responded to what he’d remembered. See if he could find any clues to her true
intentions.
Really? she answered.
He could sense her shock. Yeah. Weird, random things. Stuff from when I was a little kid. And … you
were there, too. I had glimpses of how WICKED treated us. A little about right before we went to the
Glade.
She paused before answering, maybe afraid to ask the questions that eventually came to him. Does any
of it help us? Do you remember much of it?
Most of it. But there wasn’t enough there to really mean a whole lot.
What did you see?
Thomas told her about each little segment of memory—or dream—he’d seen over the last couple of
weeks. About seeing his mom, about overhearing conversations about surgery, about him and her spying
on members of WICKED, hearing things that didn’t make a whole lot of sense. About them testing and
practicing their telepathy. And, finally, about saying goodbye right before he went to the Glade.
So Aris was there? she asked, but before he could answer, she continued. Of course, I already knew
that. That the three of us were all part of this. But weird about everyone dying, the replacements, all
that. What do you think it means?
I don’t know, he answered. But I feel like if we had the time to just sit and talk about it we could
help each other bring it all back.
Me too. Tom, I’m really sorry. I can tell you’re having a hard time forgiving me.
Would you be any different?
No. I kind of accepted it, in a way. That saving you was worth losing what we might’ve had.
Thomas had no clue how to respond to that.
Not that they could’ve talked much more even if he wanted to. With the wind howling and the dust and
debris flying through the air and the clouds churning and blackening and the distance to the others getting
shorter …
There just wasn’t time.
And so they kept running.
* * *
The two groups ahead of them eventually met up in the distance. More interesting to Thomas, though, was
that it didn’t appear to be an accident at all. The girls of Group B had reached a point and stopped; then
Minho—Thomas could make him out now and was relieved to see him alive and well—and the Gladers
had changed direction to go east to meet them.
And now, just a half-mile away, they all stood around something Thomas couldn’t see, packing in a
tight circle to look at whatever it was.
What’s going on up there? Teresa asked Thomas in his mind.
Don’t know, he answered.
The two of them, along with Aris, picked up the pace.
It only took another few minutes across the dusty wind-whipped plain before they reached Groups A and
B.
Minho had stepped away from the larger pack of people and stood facing them when they finally made
it. His arms were folded, his clothes filthy, his hair greasy, his face still showing signs of his burns. But
somehow he was smiling. Thomas couldn’t believe how good it felt to see that smirky grin again.
“It’s about time you slowpokes caught up with us!” Minho yelled at them.
Thomas stopped right in front of him and doubled over to catch his breath for a few seconds, then
straightened. “I thought you’d be fightin’ tooth and nail with these girls after what they did to us. To me,
anyway.”
Minho looked back at the now-mingling group of boys and girls, then returned his gaze to Thomas.
“Well, first of all, they have nastier weapons, not to mention bows and arrows. Plus, some chick named
Harriet explained everything. We’re the ones who should be surprised—that you’re still with them.” He
gave a nasty glare to Teresa, then Aris. “Never trusted either one of those shuck traitors.”
Thomas tried to hide his mixed emotions. “They’re on our side. Trust me.” And in a twisted, backward
way he really was starting to believe it. As sick as it made him feel.
Minho laughed bitterly. “Figured you’d say something like that. Let me guess, it’s a long story?”
“Yeah, very long story,” Thomas answered, then changed the subject. “Why’d you all stop here?
What’s everybody looking at?”
Minho stepped to the side, sweeping his arm behind him. “Have a peeky-peek yourself.” Then he
yelled to the two groups, “You guys make a path!”
Several Gladers and girls looked back, then slowly shuffled to the side until a narrow break in the
crowd formed. Thomas immediately saw that the object that held everyone’s attention was a simple stick
poking out of the arid ground. An orange strip of ribbon hung from the top, whipping in the wind. Letters
were printed on the thin banner.
Thomas and Teresa exchanged a look; then Thomas pushed ahead for a closer inspection. Even before
he got there, he could read the words printed on the ribbon, black on orange.

Categories: The Scorch Trials

The Scorch Trials - Chapter 55

It took every ounce of Thomas’s willpower not to stop and turn toward her. What? Why didn’t you tell
me about him back in the Maze? As if he needed another reason to dislike either of them.
“Why’d you guys stop talking?” Aris suddenly asked. “You yappin’ about me in those pretty little heads
of yours?” Impossibly, he didn’t seem the least bit sinister at all anymore. It was almost as if everything
that had happened back in the dead forest had been a creation of Thomas’s imagination.
Thomas let out a heavy breath that had been building in his lungs. “I can’t believe this. You two’ve
been—” He stopped, realizing that maybe he wasn’t so surprised after all. He’d seen Aris in the splotchy
memories of his most recent dream. He was a part of this, whatever this was. And the way they’d acted
toward each other in that brief recall seemed to say they were on the same side. Used to be, anyway.
“Shuck it,” Thomas finally said. “Just keep talking.”
“All right,” Teresa said. “There’s a lot of stuff to explain, so from now on just keep quiet and listen.
Got it?”
Thomas’s legs were starting to burn from their steady pace on the slope. “Okay, but … how do you
know when you’re talking to me and when you’re talking to him? How does that work?”
“It just does. That’s like me asking how you know when you’re telling your right leg to move and when
you’re telling your left leg to move. I just … know. It’s built into my brain somehow.”
“We’ve done it, too, man,” Aris said. “Don’t you remember?”
“Of course I remember,” Thomas muttered, annoyed and frustrated on so many levels. If only he could
have everything back—every last memory—he knew the pieces would fall into place and he could just
move forward. He couldn’t fathom why WICKED felt it was so important to keep their minds clean of
memory. And why the occasional leakage lately? Was that on purpose or an accident? A lingering effect
of the Changing?
Too many questions. Too many shuck questions, all without answers. “All right,” he finally said. “I’ll
keep my mouth and brain shut. Keep going.”
“We can talk about Aris and me later. I don’t even remember what we spoke about—I lost almost
everything when I woke up. Our comas had to be part of the Variables, so maybe we could communicate
just so we wouldn’t go crazy. I mean, we were part of setting it all up, right?”
“Setting it all up?” Thomas asked. “I don’t—”
Teresa reached forward and swatted him on the back. “Thought you were gonna be quiet?”
“Yeah,” Thomas grumbled.
“Anyway, these people came into my room dressed in those creepy outfits and my telepathy with you
cut off. I was scared and only half awake. Part of me thought it was just a bad nightmare. Then the next
thing I knew, they put something over my mouth that smelled horrible and then I passed out. When I woke
up I was lying in a bed in a different room and a bunch of people were sitting in chairs on the opposite
side of this weird glass wall. I couldn’t see it until I touched it—almost like a force field or something.”
“Yeah,” Thomas said. “We had something like that, too.”
“So then they started talking to me. That’s when they told me this whole plan of what Aris and I had to
do to you—and they expected me to tell him. By, you know, speaking in his mind, even though he was
now with your group. Our group. Group A. They took me from my room and sent me to be with Group B;
then they told us about the mission to the safe haven, about having the Flare. We were scared, confused,
but we had no choice. We went through these underground tunnels until we got to the mountains—we
avoided the city altogether. When you and I met in that little building, and then everything that happened
from the time we came down to you in the valley with all those weapons—all of that was planned.”
Thomas thought about the sketchy memories he’d had in his dreams. Something told him he’d known
that a scenario like this might need to happen before he ever went to the Glade and the Maze. He had a
hundred questions to ask Teresa, but decided to hold back for a little while longer.
They turned at another switchback; then Teresa continued. “I only know two things for sure. One, they
said that if I did anything against their plan they’d kill you. Said they ‘had other options,’ whatever that
means. The second thing I know is that the reason for all this was that you had to truly and absolutely feel
betrayed. The whole purpose of what we did to you was to ensure that that happened.”
Again Thomas thought of the memories. He and Teresa had both used the word patterns right before he
left her. What did it mean?
“So?” Teresa asked after they’d walked in silence for a while.
“So … what?” Thomas replied.
“So what do you think?”
“That’s it? That’s your whole explanation? I’m supposed to feel all happy now?”
“Tom, I couldn’t take any chances. I was convinced they’d kill you unless I went along. No matter
what, in the end you had to feel like I’d completely betrayed you. That’s why I put so much into it. But
why this was all so important? I have no idea.”
Thomas realized suddenly that all this information had started another headache. “Well, you sure were
good at it. What about in that building? When you kissed me? And … why did Aris need to be involved in
all this?”
Teresa grabbed his arm and made him stop and turn to face her. “They had everything calculated. All
for the Variables. I don’t know how it all fits together.”
Thomas slowly shook his head. “Well, none of this crap makes any sense to me. And excuse me for
feeling a little ticked off.”
“Did it work?”
“Huh?”
“For some reason they wanted you betrayed, and it worked. Right?”
Thomas paused, looked into her blue eyes for a long time. “Yeah. It did.”
“I’m sorry for what I did. But you’re alive, and so am I. And so is Aris.”
“Yeah,” he repeated. He really didn’t feel like talking to her anymore.
“WICKED got what they want, and I got what I want.” Teresa looked at Aris, who’d kept walking for a
while and now stood down on the next level of the path. “Aris, turn around, face the valley.”
“What?” he replied. He looked confused. “Why?”
“Just do it.” She didn’t have the mean streak in her voice anymore, hadn’t since the gas chamber, but if
anything, that made Thomas even more suspicious. What was she up to now?
Aris sighed and rolled his eyes, but did what she said, turning his back to them.
Teresa didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her arms around Thomas’s neck, pulling him in. He didn’t have
enough will to resist.
They kissed, but nothing stirred inside Thomas. He felt nothing.

Categories: The Scorch Trials

The Scorch Trials - Chapter 54

Whispers in the dark.
That was what Thomas heard when he began returning to consciousness. Low but harsh, like sandpaper
rubbing across his eardrums. He didn’t understand any of it. It was so dark it took him a second to realize
that his eyes were open.
Something cool and hard pressed against his face. The ground. He hadn’t moved since the gas had
knocked him out. Shockingly, his head didn’t hurt anymore. In fact, nothing did. Instead, a feeling of
refreshed euphoria swam through him, almost made him dizzy. Maybe he was just happy to be alive.
He got his hands under himself and pushed up into a sitting position. A look around did nothing—not
even the faintest glimmer of light broke up the utter darkness. He wondered what had happened to the
green glow of the door that Teresa had shut on him.
Teresa.
His elation drained away. Remembering what she’d done to him. But then …
He wasn’t dead. Unless the afterlife was just a crappy room of blackness.
He rested for a few minutes, letting his mind wake up and settle before he finally got to his feet and
started feeling around. Three cool metal walls with evenly spaced upraised holes. One smooth wall that
felt like plastic. He was definitely in that same little room.
He pounded on the door. “Hey! Anybody out there?”
His thoughts started spinning. The memory-dreams, several now—so much to process, so many
questions. The things that had first come back to him with the Changing in the Maze were slowly starting
to come into focus, solidify. He’d been part of WICKED’s plans, part of all this. He and Teresa had been
close—best friends, even. All of it had seemed right. Doing these things for the greater good.
Only, Thomas didn’t feel so good about it now. All he felt was anger and shame. How could anything
justify what they’d done? What WICKED—what they—were doing? Though he certainly didn’t think of
himself this way, he and the others were just kids. Kids! He didn’t like himself very much anymore. He
wasn’t sure when he’d reached this turning point. But something had cracked within him.
And then there was Teresa. How could he ever have felt so much for her?
Something cracked, then hissed, interrupting his line of thinking.
The door started to open, slowly swinging outward. Teresa stood there in the pale light of early
morning, her face streaked with tears. As soon as there was enough room, she threw her arms around him,
pressing her face against his neck.
“I’m so sorry, Tom,” she said; her tears were wet against his skin. “I’m so, so, so sorry. They said
they’d kill you if we didn’t do everything just like they told us. No matter how horrible. I’m sorry, Tom!”
Thomas couldn’t answer, couldn’t bring himself to hug back. Betrayal. The sign on Teresa’s door, the
conversation between the people in his dreams. Pieces were falling into place. For all he knew, she was
just trying to trick him again. The betrayal meant he couldn’t trust her anymore, and his heart told him he
couldn’t forgive her.
On some level, he realized that Teresa had kept her initial promise to him after all. She had done those
awful things against her will. What she had said in the shack had been true. But he also knew that things
could never, never be the same between them.
He finally pushed Teresa away. The sincerity in her blue eyes did little to diminish his lingering doubt.
“Uh … maybe you should tell me what happened.”
“I told you to trust me,” she answered. “I told you that bad, bad things would happen to you. But the bad
stuff was all an act.” She smiled then, and it was so pretty Thomas longed to find a way to forget what
she’d done.
“Yeah, but you didn’t seem to struggle too much, beating the klunk out of me with a spear and throwing
me into a gas chamber.” He couldn’t hide the mistrust raging in his heart. He glanced at Aris, who looked
sheepish, like he’d intruded on a private conversation.
“I’m sorry,” the boy said.
“Why didn’t you tell me we knew each other before?” Thomas responded. “What …” He didn’t know
what to say.
“It was all an act, Tom,” Teresa said. “You have to believe us. We were promised from the very
beginning that you wouldn’t die. That this chamber thing had its own purposes and then it’d be over. I’m
so sorry.”
Thomas looked back at the still-gaping door. “I think I need some time to process all this.” Teresa
wanted him to forgive her—for everything to be how it used to be immediately. And instinct told him to
hide his bitter feelings, but it was hard.
“What happened in there, anyway?” Teresa asked.
Thomas returned his gaze to her. “How about you talk first, then me. I think I earned that much.”
She tried to take his hand but he moved it, pretending he had an itch on his neck. When he saw the flash
of hurt cross her face, he felt the slightest bit of vindication.
“Look,” she said. “You’re right. You deserve an explanation. I think it’s okay to tell you everything
now—not that we know too much of the why.”
Aris cleared his throat, an obvious interjection. “But, um, we better do it while walking. Or running.
We only have a few hours left. Today is the day.”
Those words jarred Thomas completely out of his stupor. He looked down at his watch. Only five and
a half hours remained if Aris was right that they’d reached the end of the two weeks—Thomas had kind of
lost track himself, not knowing how long he’d been in the chamber. And none of this other stuff mattered
at all if they didn’t make it to the safe haven. Hopefully Minho and the others had already found it.
“Fine. Let’s just forget this for now,” he said, then changed the subject. “Is anything different out there?
I mean, I saw it in the dark, but—”
“We know,” Teresa interrupted. “There’s no sign of a building. Nothing. It looks even worse in the
daylight. Just forever and ever of flat wasteland. There isn’t a tree or a hill, much less any safe haven.”
Thomas looked at Aris, then back at Teresa. “Then what’re we supposed to do? Where do we go?” He
thought of Minho and Newt, the Gladers, Brenda and Jorge. “Have you seen any of the others?”
Aris answered. “All the girls from my group are down there, walking north like they’re supposed to,
already a couple miles out. We spotted your friends at the base of the mountain a mile or two west of
here. Can’t tell for sure, but looks like no one new is missing, and they’re heading in the same direction as
the girls.”
Relief filled Thomas. His friends had made it—hopefully all of them.
“We gotta get moving,” Teresa said. “Just because nothing’s there doesn’t mean anything. Who knows
what WICKED is up to? We just have to do what they told us. Come on.”
Thomas had been experiencing a brief moment of wanting to give up, to sit down and forget it all—let
whatever was going to happen, happen. But almost as fast as it came out, it disappeared. “Okay, let’s go.
But you better tell me everything you know.”
“I will,” she answered. “You guys up for running once we’re out of these dead trees?”
Aris nodded, but Thomas rolled his eyes. “Please. I’m a Runner.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Well, then, we’ll just have to see who stops before who.”
In answer, Thomas stepped out of the small clearing and into the lifeless forest first, refusing to dwell
on the storm of memories and emotions that tried to weigh him down.
The sky didn’t lighten much as morning ticked on. Clouds blew in, gray and thick, so thick that Thomas
wouldn’t have had any idea of the time if it weren’t for his watch.
Clouds. Last time that had happened …
Maybe this storm wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe.
Once they left the dense pack of dead trees, they didn’t pause. An obvious trail led toward the valley
below, switching back and forth like a jagged scar on the mountain face. Thomas estimated it would take
a couple of hours just to get to the bottom—running on the steep, slippery slopes looked like a good way
to break an ankle or leg. And if that happened, they’d never make it.
The three agreed they’d hike quickly but safely, then book it once they were on flat land. They started
down—Aris, then Thomas, then Teresa. The dark clouds churned above them as wind gusted in seemingly
every direction. Just as Aris had said, Thomas could see two separate packs of people in the desert
below—his Glader friends, not far from the base of the mountain, then Group B, maybe a mile or two
farther out.
Once again Thomas was relieved, and his step felt lighter as he made his way.
After the third switchback, Teresa spoke up from behind him. “So, guess I’ll start the story from where
we left off.”
Thomas just nodded. He couldn’t believe how good he felt physically—his stomach miraculously full,
the pain from being beaten up gone, fresh air and brisk wind to make him feel alive. He had no idea what
was in that gas he’d breathed, but it seemed far from poisonous. Still, his mistrust of Teresa itched at him;
he didn’t want to be overly nice.
“It all started right when we were talking to each other in the middle of the night—that very first one
right after the rescue from the Maze. I was kind of half asleep and then these people were in my room, all
dressed funny. Creepy. Baggy jumpsuits and goggles.”
“Serious?” Thomas asked over his shoulder. They sounded just like the people he’d seen after being
shot.
“Freaked me out—and I tried calling to you, but it suddenly cut out. The telepathy thing, I mean. I don’t
know how I knew, but it just vanished. From then until now it’s only come and gone in spurts.”
Then she spoke in his mind. You can hear me perfectly now, right?
Yeah. Did you and Aris really talk while we were in the Maze?
Well …
She trailed off, and when Thomas looked back at her, she had a worried look on her face.
What’s wrong? he asked, turning his attention back to the trail before he did something stupid like trip
and go tumbling down the mountain.
I don’t wanna go into that yet.
“Go—” He stopped himself before he said it out loud. Go into what?
Teresa didn’t answer.
Thomas tried as hard as he could to shout inside her mind. Go into what!
She stayed silent a few seconds longer before finally answering.
Yeah, he and I have been talking since I first showed up in the Glade. Mostly while I was in that
stupid coma.

Categories: The Scorch Trials

The Scorch Trials - Chapter 53

Thomas didn’t know if he was dead or alive, but it felt like he was asleep. Aware of himself, but as if
through a haze. He slipped into yet another memory-dream.
Thomas is sixteen. He’s standing in front of Teresa and some girl he doesn’t recognize.
And Aris.
Aris?
All three of them are looking at him with grim faces. Teresa is crying.
“It’s time to go,” Thomas says.
Aris nods. “Into the Swipe, then into the Maze.”
Teresa does nothing but wipe away some tears.
Thomas reaches out a hand and Aris shakes it. Then Thomas does the same with the girl he doesn’t
know.
Then Teresa rushes forward and pulls him into an embrace. She’s sobbing, and Thomas realizes that
he’s also crying. His tears wet her hair as he hugs her tightly.
“You have to go now,” Aris says.
Thomas looks at him. Waits. Tries to enjoy this moment with Teresa. His last moment of full memory.
They won’t be like this again for a very long time.
Teresa looks up at him. “It’s going to work. It’s all going to work.”
“I know,” Thomas says. He feels a sadness that makes every last bit of him ache.
Aris opens a door and beckons for Thomas to follow him. Thomas does, but manages to look back at
Teresa one last time. Tries to look hopeful.
“See ya tomorrow,” he says.
Which is true, and it hurts.
The dream faded, and Thomas fell into the blackest sleep of his life.

Categories: The Scorch Trials