MINHO LED THE way this time. His shoulders squared as he ran —every inch of him showed the pride he had felt for those years when he ruled these corridors.

Stephen was right behind him, then Frankie.

It was a strange feeling, being back in there after everything she had been through. A chant broke into her mind: left, left, right, left, right, right. The thump of her metallic support echoed throughout the arena.

It was enough to signal Minho that she was okay.

No one said much as they ran toward the Glade.

They turned the final corner that led to the wide corridor outside the East Door of the Glade.

Her home.

She let herself got lost in whirls of memories as she beamed, skidding to a halt after she got passed the Door like she usually did after a long day in the Maze.

She drank in the sight, listing down the differences the Glade had suffered since her last birthday celebration. The crooked building they called the Homestead; the pathetic copse of trees; the Bloodhouse barn; the fields, now only hardened weeds. The charred Map Room, its metal door blackened and still hanging ajar. The Slammer's door, hidden behind some people's figures.

But the Glade was now milled by hundreds of unfamiliar people, more than the Gladers had ever numbered. There were even babies and small children scattered among the crowd.

It took a moment for the murmurs to spread across the sea of Immunes, but within seconds every eye was trained on the new arrivals and utter silence fell upon the Glade.

"Did you know there were this many?" Minho asked Gally.

"Honestly, no."

It didn't take long before their friends spotted them. Frypan. Clint, Sonya, and some other
girls from Group B.

They all came running, and there was a short burst of reunions and hugs.

"Frances!" Sonya leaped, cupping her face then engulfing her in a hug, "Oh my God, I remember. I remember you now."

"Me, too," Frankie smiled, returning the hug.

"Where's Marie? And Harriet?"

"They're taking care of something else somewhere. We'll meet them later."

Sonya paused and locked her eyes on the figure before her —a boy, laughing along in the joy of reunion with his fellow Gladers. Frankie watched as her eyes moistened and she had to force herself to look away.

"He doesn't remember," Frankie said softly, as if it would help soothe the pain.

"I know," Sonya smiled, "It was his choice."

Elsewhere, Frypan swatted Newt on the arm, "Can you believe they put me back in this place? They wouldn't even let me cook, just sent us a bunch of packaged food in the Box three times a day. Kitchen doesn't even
work—no electricity, nothing."

Then his eyes got big. "Gally? Gally's here? Gally's alive?"

"Nice to see you, too," the boy responded dryly.

Minho patted Frypan on the back. "Long story. He's a good guy now."

Gally scoffed but didn't respond.

Frankie stepped up to them, "How are we going to do this?"

"Shouldn't be too bad," Stephen said.

"Don't feed me that klunk," Minho said, "Your eyes don't lie."

"Well, we've certainly got a lot of people to fight with us."

"Have you looked at these poor saps?" Minho asked, sounding disgusted. "Half of them are younger than Chuck, and the other half look like they haven't even arm wrestled before, much less had a fistfight."

"Sometimes numbers are all that matters," Newt responded, the sight of the Glade awakened his inner leadership, "Let's split them into groups. There's gotta be two or three hundred people, so... groups of fifty. Then have some Gladers or Group B people be in charge of them."

"We'll go with our initial plan —Teresa and Steve, lead the way. Frankie and Newt'll help move people along. Gally and I cover the rear. Everyone else guide one of the groups."

They spent the next twenty minutes dividing everyone into groups and getting them into long lines. They paid special attention to keeping the groups even in terms of age and strength. Thankfully, the Immunes had no problem following orders once they realized the new arrivals had come to help rescue them.

Once they were organized into groups, Frankie and her friends lined up in front of the East Door. Newt waved his hands to get everyone's attention.

"Listen up!" He began, "WICKED is planning to use you for science —your bodies, your brains. But you deserve more than a life as bloody lab rats. You are—we all are—the future, and the future isn't going to happen the way WICKED wants it to. That's why we're here. To get you out of this place. We'll be going through a bunch of buildings to find a Flat Trans that'll take us somewhere safe. If we're attacked, we're going to have to fight. Stick with your groups, and the strongest need to do whatever it takes to protect the—"

Newt's last words were cut off by a violent crack—like the sound of stone splintering. And then, nothing. Only an echo bouncing off the enormous walls.

"What was that?" Frypan yelled, searching the sky for the source.

Frankie inspected the Glade, but nothing was out of place.

Then another crack sounded, then another. A thunderous din of rumbling crossed the Glade, beginning low and increasing in depth and volume. The ground started to tremble, and it seemed as if the world was going to fall apart. People turned in circles, looking for the source of the noise, and Frankie could tell panic was spreading. They would lose control soon.

"The explosives..."

"What?" Minho shouted at Gally.

"The Right Arm! But it's supposed to take out only the other side of the complex!"

A deafening roar shook the Glade, and Frankie spun around to look up. A large portion of the wall to the left of the East Door had broken loose, great chunks of stone flying everywhere. A huge section seemed to hover at an impossible angle, and then it fell, toppling toward the ground.

The Maze was falling apart around them—they had to get out.

"Run!" Minho yelled at Sonya.

She didn't hesitate—she turned and disappeared into the corridors of the Maze. The people who'd been standing in her line didn't need to be told to follow.

Teresa and Stephen ran, trying to get to the head of the pack.

Frankie stood at the mouth of the walls with Newt, trying their best to facilitate who would go next and to prevent everyone from going at once in a stampede that would surely kill half of them.

Another splintering crack sounded from above; she looked up to see a section of wall falling toward the ground by the fields. It exploded when it hit, luckily with no one underneath.

A hand yanked hers. It was Minho.

"Go!" he yelled over the ruckus, "It's your turn!"

She exchanged a quick look at Newt, nodded, but before she left, she grasp Minho's hand in hers quickly.

"You better be alive when I see you later."

"Good that. You, too, Frankie."

Then she slipped past the jagged left edge of the Door into the Maze. Together, Newt and her weaved their way around the crowd of people heading in the same direction.

The ground continued to tremble, and lurched with every distant explosion. People stumbled left and right, fell, got back up, kept running. Frankie had to dodge and duck as she ran, keeping her mind solely on their goal.

To be Tarzans and Janes in a jungle-beach paradise upstairs.

There was no time to thought about the past or the fallen ones she had seen along the way.

The ground suddenly jumped underneath her and an earsplitting crack pierced the air. She fell face-first and scrambled to get up. A hundred feet or so in front of her, a section of the stone floor had shifted upward. As she watched, half of it exploded, sending a rain of rocks and dust in all directions.

They couldn't stop, but she could see the desperation in everyone's eyes.

"We can do it!" She shouted, trying to encourage the herd. She saw a narrow space between the protruding ground and the wall and wobbled through it, showing the people that she could. "Hurry!"

Newt exited the gap, then paused to help funnel the others through, grabbing hands, pulling and pushing. It went faster than they could've hoped, and they continued toward the Cliff at full speed.

But when she reached the long corridor that ended at the Cliff, she got a full view of terror. Faces white and twisted in fear, people falling to the ground, getting back up.

"What's going on?" Newt yelled worriedly.

Frankie didn't know. Her heart ached for her friends, Minho, and all of these people.

They had been through so much to reach this point of life. Must they die here? On the verge of freedom?

She ran until she reached the Cliff, where the traffic really started. A hint of blonde made her recognize who was helping people to descend the stairs.

"Sonya!" she called out, "What happened?"

Sonya looked up. Streaks of terror decorated her eyes, "Monsters! Grievers, whatever you call them!"