"Winston, no!"

The boy face-planted into the sand as Bea rushed to his side and flipped him over, immediately regretting letting go of his hand. The rest of the group instantly rushed to his side, shaking him to get a response out of him.

"Winston! Hey, Winston," Thomas called out worriedly, shaking his side. The poor boy was to ill to even let out a single word, all that came from his mouth was heavy breaths as he was now incredibly struggling to breath. Bea cupped his cheek, rotating his head upwards so his windpipe had more access to air.

"He's hurt pretty bad," Thomas concluded, running a hand through his hair.

"What do we do?" Teresa asked, directing her question to Thomas. Bea stood up, shielding the sun from her eyes as she looked for something around them that could help Winston. Her eyes fell onto a pile of junk, however to them, the items on this pile were very useful. She locked eyes with Thomas and they nodded at each other making a bolt for the pile as the rest of the group tried to get a response out of Winston

---

Out of the pile of junk, Beatrice and Thomas had built a temporary stretcher from sticks, rope, a blanket, and an old sleeping bag. It was surprisingly sturdy and carried Winston's weight well. The group took it in turns holding the stick at the front, two people at a time, to carry him across the scorch.

At the moment, Frypan and Minho were taking their shift pulling Winston and Bea was at the front walking next to Thomas. It was considerably quiet apart from the odd person asking how far away from the mountains they were or checking in on Winston.

"Do you think he's gonna be okay?" Bea asked softly to Thomas, referring to Winston. The brunette boy turned to look at her and sighed but he had a hopeful look in his eyes.

"He has to," he replied, "We've already lost so many people, we can't lose any more."

The response shut Bea up. She wondered what it must have been like living in a Maze with no memories of your life prior to it. And in addition to all of that, watching your friends die all the time - she knew she wouldn't have been able to cope.

They walked for miles and miles and as they reached a steeper downwards sleep, it became more difficult to carry Winston.

"Hey Thomas, can you grab his legs?" Minho asked the boy who was carrying Winston's upper half with Newt to which the brunette boy nodded and grabbed his legs. Using her initiative, Bea grabbed the stretcher, and held it on her shoulder just incase they reached flatter ground and were able to carry him again.

Bea was terribly wrong.

Walking on flat ground was so much harder than the slopes they were on before. Although it was less bumpy, the wind hand picked up a lot making it impossible to see. Sand was flying into there faces, eyes, nose, mouth, into any hole from any direction.

A hand appeared in Bea's view and she saw Teresa handing a bandana to her. Bea smiled at her and gratefully took it, wrapping it around her nose and mouth but still used her hand to shield her eyes. She walked like this for another mile until it became unbearable.

"We gotta find shelter," Thomas yelled so everybody could hear him over the wind

"No shit Thomas," Bea shouted back, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

---

The wind had finally calmed.

After a few minutes of looking, they had found a fallen, stone pillar which they used as a shelter. It shielded the sand from hitting them and having direct contact with the scorching sun - although it was still boiling hot due to the humidity.

Aris and Bea had sat themselves just outside the pillar (but still in the shade) on a few boulders, while the other's apart from Teresa were sat inside the cave. The girl in question, had walked quite far away - she was in eyesight but definitely out of earshot. Bea sighed, finally relaxing for the first time today. She rolled her neck from left to right, stretching it while taking a few sips of water every now and again. Next to her, Aris was gazing into the distance, his mind clearly occupied by something.

Thomas emerged from the shelter and Bea's eyes were trained on him as he trailed over to where Teresa was standing. Him. Why was he so familiar to her? It bugged her massively that she couldn't find out the reason why and on top of that, that strange dream or even memory? It had to be a memory - there was no other explanation for it.

"How far away are we?" she heard Newt called out.

"Just a little further," Thomas said, turning round to face the blonde boy.

"Well that doesn't sound very convincing," Bea muttered under her breath.

A gunshot broke her from her thoughts making her heart leap out of her chest. She instantly screwed the lid of her water bottle back on and rushed to the source of the noise.

"Hey guys get down here!" Aris yelled out to Thomas and Teresa, following Bea into the shelter.

"Winston what the hell are you doing man?"

"Give me that!"

"What happened?" Teresa asked and her and Thomas made it under the shelter.

"I-I don't know!" Frypan replied still in shock, "He just woke up and grabbed the gun and- and... he tried to-"

He was cut off by Winston throwing up a black liquid. The slimy blackness oozed out of his of mouth and onto the sandy floor. He coughed, trying his hardest to get the remains of the liquid out of his mouth.

The group stared at him, hearts racing and lips parted in shock. Bea knew what that liquid was. She knew why he was throwing it up.

He has The Flare.

The boy flipped himself onto his back, heaving heavily, his chest rapidly moving up and down for more oxygen. The group slowly moved forwards to him, looking down at him worriedly.

"It- It's growing," he breathed out, gently pulling his top upwards, "Inside me." His voice cracked at the end from the pure disgust and horror as the group gasped at the sight. Bea tore her eyes away as Winston pulled his shirt back down, blinking back a few tears.

Stop crying you barely know the boy.

But no matter how harsh she inwardly scolded herself, her heart was already breaking piece by piece. The Gladers glanced at each other, trying to quickly think of something to do to hep the ill boy but Bea knew there was nothing they could do.

"I'm not gonna make it," he croaked out softly, shaking his head at his friends - no, his family. "Please - please don't let me turn into one of them."

He reached his arm forwards, motioning for the gun as he didn't have the strength to lean forwards and get it. It stayed silent for a few moments as the group stared at him with sorrow in their eyes.

Slowly, Newt moved forward, taking the gun from Frypans hand and crouched down beside Winston sighing.

"Newt.." Thomas trailed off, about to stop the blonde boy but Bea touched his forearm. They made eye contact and she shook her head at the brunette boy sadly. Newt gently grasped Winston's hand, placing the gun onto his chest, with his hand lying loosely on top of it.

"Thank you," Winston whispered, not just to Newt but to the whole group.

"Now," he croaked through heaving breaths, "Get out of here."

That's when Bea's heart broke.

"Goodbye Winston," Newt said to the boy, his lips trembling as if he was going to cry any second. Nobody would blame him if he did. Steadily, he grabbed his bag which was beside Frypan, who was just staring at the British boy helplessly, silently pleading at him.

After he left, Bea's eyes met Aris' and the pair nodded at each other before getting their bags and leaving the shelter too. They didn't know the boy well so wanted to give the Glader's some privacy to say goodbye.

Bea let out a heavy exhale as she gazed into the distance at the mountains. So close yet so far.

How many more people have to die before we get there? And if we do get there, what's next?

Her mind was bottled with questions she tried to answer to distract herself from the dying boy who was a few metres away from her. She felt somebody squeeze her arm lightly and she looked up to see Aris who was giving her a small, sad smile.

Bea turned to the right to see the rest of the group had gotten their stuff and started walking. Rubbing her eyes to discard any of the tears that had threatened to fall, she trudged over to them. Nobody had to say anything to know how the others were feeling. They were all mourning. Mourning the death of a friend. A brother.

Thomas finally exited the shelter, a couple dried tears on his cheeks that only Bea seemed to notice. He had a look in his eye that she was all too familiar with. Guilt. Guilt for not being able to save Winston. She wanted to tell him everything was going to be okay but she herself didn't even believe that.

The group hiked across the scorch, and after a few minutes of silently waiting, they heard it. The sound of a gunshot. The sound of another life gone.