We walk through the city cautiously, doing our best to avoid the Cranks. At one point, a group of them circles us but we have significantly more weapons and the girls take them down with hardly a fight. I wander along, moving my legs with the rest of them but too trapped within my own mind to be fully present.

I don't think I can do this anymore. I miss Newt. I miss my brother. I miss Chuck and Minho. I can't do this alone and I definently can't kill Thomas. I need to get out of here. I need ll

"Addy? Addy?" Sonya bumps my shoulder to remind me that I'm not doing this alone. "You alright?"

I nod numbly.

"It's just about time. We located the boys. Come on."

I shake my head and cover my ears. "I can't. I can't. I can't!"

Sonya looks startled and rubs my back. "Yeah, you can. It'll be alright. After this we can go save Newt and everything will be ok. We'll find somewhere safe."

The voice in my head whispers that I can't, but I try to shove it away. This is the only way. I have to remember. Tommy will end up dead no matter what I do. I might as well save my own butt since I can. "Ok. Ok. I'm alright." I'm not totally sure whether I'm convincing myself or Sonya, but neither of us are persuaded.

My legs move, but I have almost no idea what I'm doing. Sonya hangs onto my arm the while time, guiding me through the Maze that is the city. Harriet clicks her tongue and nods her head to a rusty ladder attached to side of a building nearby. Music and colored lights emanate from within. We climb up the fire escape and I pause near the middle, brushing a hand across my head. It throbs and buzzes with a headache, but I have to keep going.

We reach the top and follow Harriet as she slinks along the rooftops, her brown eyes pinned on a brown haired boy standing next to a young woman with short black hair.

"We've got to wait until the others come. They have to see it happen," Harriet says to Sonya.

The blond nods and directs the rest of the group to stay quiet but get comfortable because we haven't any idea how long we'll be here. I slip the the floor quiet and bury my head in my knees. My head. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts!

A memory smashes through the pain.

I sit amongst the other subjects. All are young, none older than twelve, but none are familiar. A single tear trickles down my cheek. I miss Stephen. I want to know where they've taken him.

"Get on with it!" An angry looking boy behind me shouts. He looks about ten, only two years older than I am, and has black hair and black eyes to match. I notice that even as he acts brave and defiant, the red hue left by tears mars the whites of his eyes.

"Patience, Minho," the professional-looking woman that addresses us says. An ingenuine smile pulls her slender face taut. "As you all know, a disease known as the Flare has usurped the world as we know it and left behind shells of people known as Cranks. Left unchecked, the Flare will destroy our society and diminish our dwindling numbers to the point of extinction. You will play a vital role in our efforts, here at WICKED, to obtain a cure to the virus."

"Since your cooperation is if the utmost importance, my colleagues and I thought it would only be fair to share with you why to do this for you since human beings are selfish and often motivated better when the results benefit them, who is and who is not immune to the Flare. Remember, the children around you are your friends, family even, and you don't want to leave them to go helplessly insane like your parents." She pauses to let her words sink in and a curly-haired boy, around six, sniffles with tears rolling down his pudgy face at the mention of parents.

"Since there are fewer of you who are not immune, we'll start there, shall we?" She clears her throat and refers to the crisp paper in her hands. "Those who are not immune to the Flare include; Ada, Charles, Emmeline, Isaac, Jackson, Naomi, Rosa, and Winston. The rest of you, are immune."

The pudgy boy sobs harder and I watch as my only friend up to this point, Sonya, embrace a tall, slim boy who buries his face in her strawberry blonde hair to hide his tears.

"What about my brother?" I ask as I stand, worried for his safety more than my own.

The woman gives me a stern look. "You needn't worry about Thomas. The person you should be worried about, is yourself, Ada." Her icy cerulean eyes bore into the depths of my soul and I sink back into my seat out of fear. She turns sharply on her heel and the tears begin to fall, but unlike the tall boy, Isaac, I have no one to lean on.

I gasp as I bolt to my senses. The haze that had fallen over me has disappeared. They're immune! They're all immune! Except, my heart breaks internally, except Newt. And Chuck. Winston. My eyes flick to the girl next to me, who's long mousy brown hair is braided halfway down her back. Emmie. Emmeline. She watches Thomas thoughtfully. They have no idea. Soon they'll be just like him. Him!

My thoughts are interrupted when I realize what I was thinking. I open my mouth to call out a warning to the other girls, but by then, the Crank is practically upon us.

"What are you pretty girls doing up here? Pretty. Pretty. Pretty." He walks closer. His right eye twitches while the blue iris is facing away from us.

"No guns," Sonya hisses. "They'll alert them of our presence."

"Don't come any closer!" Harriet demands, holding her spear out in affect.

The Crank laughs heartily. "Silly girl. Cain likes her. Cain knows she will not hurt him. No, no, she won't hurt him. She will be scared of him, Cain knows this. That is what Cain does! He scares people away. If Cain does not, they will kill him because he is Gone. Gone, Gone, Gone! Just like the pretty girls will be. The girls must be gone. Gone, gone, gone. Goodbye girls! No party tonight. No invite! None! No invite! None, none, none!"

Cain, I assume, doubles over in laughter, but when he straightens, the amusement has vanished from his eyes and he charges at Harriet head on. She screams and stabs at him, hitting Cain right in the stomach. The Crank pauses, looks at the blood spewing from his flesh, and laughs again. "Fiesty, fiesty! This will be fun for Cain!"

As if he were uninjured, Cain charges again, ignoring all the wounds he gathers as he goes. He makes his way through the small crowd of girls, biting, slashing, and spitting on anyone he can reach. His fingers sink into my shoulder as I jab my knife into his side and pain shoots through the wounds.

It doesn't take long for us to take Cain down, but by the time he finally stops attacking, his flesh is torn in so many places that his skin can hardly be seen through the sea of red. Cain screams a lot as he dies and many of the girls cry or throw up, but he can't hurt us any more. My emotions wrestle against each other leaving my face empty as the anger, dread, disgust, sorrow, and joy in success interweave within me. I've lost control of myself.

A resounding boom startles me out of my thoughts and my entire group rushes to see what the commotion was. What I see makes my heart drop.

Thomas lies on the sandy ground, blood pouring from a round bullet wound. Minho and the other Gladers fall to the ground to help him while the Crank that shot him cackles.

I move to go help, but Sonya puts a hand on my shoulder and shakes her head slightly. Tears fall down my cheeks and my body trembles, but I can only watch as the Gladers carry Thomas, who screams and writhes in agony, out to a safer area. A Hispanic man I don't recognize orders the Gladers around, sticking a knife in a freshly started fire and digging it into Thomas' wound. My brother screams and blacks out, while I have nothing to do but watch.