The door opened, and they walked down the dark corridor. They wondered if this was really the way out until they finally stopped at a door that had the word 'Exit' written on it.
"Are you sure?" Thomas asked Minho.
"What else do I do but trust?" Minho replied.
Minho began to open the door, and silence fell as they observed everyone standing behind the window, watching them. Thomas noticed one of them writing something, while another reached for and put on glasses. They all wore white suits. None of them displayed any facial expressions; they all looked pale and thin, profoundly unsettling to behold.
They continued to stare at the Gladers; one man shook his head, a woman nodded. Another man reached out and scratched his nose - the most human thing Thomas had ever seen one of them do.
"Who are these people?" Chuck whispered, but his voice echoed throughout the room with a hoarse tone.
"The Creators," Minho said, then spat on the floor. "I'll smash your faces!" he yelled, so loudly that Thomas nearly covered his ears.
"What do we do?" Thomas asked. "What are they waiting for?"
"They might be reviving the Grievers," Newt suggested.
"They might come right—"
"What now?" Chuck interrupted, his concern not hidden in his voice. For some reason, everyone looked at Thomas. He shrugged in response; he remembered so much, and now he knew nothing like everyone else who was scared.
His heart raced as he saw one of the doors opening towards them.
Two people entered the room they occupied, one of them a woman. Actual adults. She looked utterly ordinary, wearing black pants and a white shirt buttoned up with the W.C.K.D logo on her chest in blue capital letters. Her brown hair was shoulder-length, and she had a slender face with dark eyes. As she walked towards them, she didn't smile or furrow her brow as if she didn't notice or care about them standing there. Thomas felt he recognized the woman, his memory faint, unable to recall her name. She felt very familiar to Thomas, the way she walked, the way she looked at people; Thomas felt like he knew her.
The woman stopped a few meters in front of the Gladers and slowly looked left and right.
Someone stood beside her, wearing an oversized sweater, the hood covering their head and face. "Welcome back," the woman finally said. "More than three years, and not a few died. Amazing."
Thomas felt his mouth gaping open, anger causing his face to flush.
"Excuse me?" Newt asked.
The woman's eyes scanned them and then settled on Newt.
"Everything is going as planned, Mr. Newton. Although we hoped some of you would give up along the way."
She glanced at her companion standing beside her, then reached out and pulled the hood from the person's head. The person raised their head, their eyes wet with tears.
The Gladers in the room gasped in surprise. Thomas felt his knees go weak. Then, he rubbed his eyes.
It was Gally.
Thomas blinked.
"What is he doing here?" Minho shouted.
"You're safe now," she answered as if she hadn't heard him. "Please, calm down."
"Calm down?" Minho barked. "Who are you to tell us to be quiet? I want someone to report to the police or someone! The mayor? Or the president!" Minho said, full of anger. He was still thinking about Cessie, and now he met Gally. Thomas worried about what Minho would do. He wished Minho would punch him.
The woman narrowed her eyes at Minho. "Look, the most valuable subject among the valuable ones has passed the Maze test. You're quite surprising, son. Something valuable in your body is highly sought after by us," she said.
Minho began to reply, but Newt elbowed him. "Gally," Newt said. "What's going on?"
Gally looked at him, his eyes wide for a moment, his head shaking slightly. But he didn't respond. There was something wrong with him.
The woman nodded, seemingly proud of him. "One day, you will all thank us for what we've done for you. I can only promise this, and trust your minds to accept it. If not, then it's all a mistake. Dark times, Mr. Newton. Dark times," she said to Newt.
Thomas focused on Gally. Gally's entire body trembled, his face pale, his wet and red eyes protruding like bloodstains on paper. His lips were tightly sealed; the skin around them wrinkled as if he were trying to speak but couldn't.
"Gally?" Thomas asked, trying to suppress the total hatred he had for him.
Words came out of Gally's mouth. "They... can control me... I don't—" His eyes widened, a hand went to his throat as if he were choking. "I... have to... for..." Every word he uttered was a hoarse cough. Then he fell silent, his face calm, his body relaxed.
Just like Alby in the bed when he began to regain consciousness and survived his change.
"What's happening—" Thomas didn't have time to finish his thoughts.
Gally reached behind, pulled out something long and shiny from his back pocket. The room's lights reflected off the silvery surface of a sinister-looking dagger, tightly gripped in his fingers. With unexpected speed, he stepped back and threw the knife towards Thomas. As the object began to reach him, Chuck was seen standing in front of him.
With a sickening thud, the dagger hit Chuck's chest, burying itself in its hilt. The boy screamed, fell to the floor, his body convulsing. Blood flowed from his wound, dark red. His legs kicked aimlessly on the floor, directionless death throes. Red fluid oozed from between his lips. Thomas felt as if the world was collapsing around him, crushing his heart. He fell to the ground, pulling Chuck's trembling body into his arms.
"Chuck!" he shouted; his voice felt like acid tearing through his vocal cords. "Chuck!"
Chuck's eyes rolled back in their sockets, the pale whites staring. Blood poured from his nose and mouth. "Chuck!!" Thomas said, this time with a whisper.
Surely, there was something they could do. They could save him.
"Thomas," Chuck whispered.
"Find... my mother." A painful cough erupted from his lungs, spewing a burst of blood.
"Tell her..." He didn't finish. His eyes closed, his body limp. One last
struggling breath escaped his mouth. Thomas stared at him, gazing at the lifeless body of his friend.
Something happened inside Thomas. It began deep in his chest, a seed of anger. Revenge. From hatred. Something dark and terrible. And then it exploded, piercing through his lungs, through his throat, through his arms and legs. Through his mind.
Thomas, witnessing this, turned to face the people staring at them and then shouted at them. He shouted loudly. He rushed forward, throwing himself at Gally, gripping with his fingers like claws. He squeezed Gally's throat, pinning him down, falling to the ground on top of him. He strangled Gally, clenched, but Gally reversed his position, making Thomas underneath him, and began pulling a pocket knife from his pants and lunging it towards Thomas.
Before the object could fly into Thomas's chest, Minho pierced Gally's chest with a spear throw, causing Gally to fall to the floor, bleeding. The Gladers were shocked to see what Minho had done.
"NO!" Thomas screamed, his sadness enveloping him.
"NO!" Teresa was there, putting her hand on his shoulder, trying to calm Thomas.
"I lost my sister. I lost Cessie! I lost Chuck now!" Thomas said in sorrow.
"I promised him, I promised them!" he yelled,
"I promised to save them, bring them home! I promised him!"
Teresa didn't respond, just nodded, her eyes fixed on the ground. Thomas hugged Chuck to his chest, squeezing him as tight as he could, as if it could bring him back, or show gratitude for saving his life, for being his friend when no one else would.
Sobs echoed loudly throughout the room, like the sound of tortured pain.
What else did he have now? Cessie was gone, Chuck, who he had come to think of as his little brother, was now dead because he had saved him.
A loud, slow beeping sound cut through him, like a warning alarm, and some helicopters descended, but much more powerful. It came from everywhere, thundering and echoing throughout the room.
A group of people in black uniforms that covered their bodies entered with their guns pointed, shooting in every direction where anyone in a white suit stood. Some of the soldiers brought the Gladers onto planes.
They slaughtered everyone. Were they against Wicked? Why did they kill the Creators? Was this really the end of the Maze era?
"Calm down, kid. You're safe from Wicked now," said a man in a black uniform covering his body.
The Gladers opened their eyes, looking down at the maze from a height. They were deeply saddened by all that had been lost. They were free now, and this was the beginning of everything. They gazed down below with feelings of anger, sorrow, and resentment gnawing at their hearts. Burning revenge would lead them back to slaughter Wicked and redeem all their deeds.