Disclaimer:

I do not own The Maze Runner, but I do own the picture in the media because I made it (:

-✼-

"My name is Teresa, I'm nine years old, and I want to save the world."

Miss Hu nodded with an impressed expression on her heart-shaped face. She was a young Asian woman probably in her early twenties. Her straight, jet-black hair was pulled back into a high ponytail at the crown of her head. "That's quite the goal there, Teresa."

The tall, thin-faced girl sitting two spaces down from me lifted her pointed chin a little higher. "That's what they told me we were doing- saving the world."

Miss Hu smiled gently. "I'm not saying you can't. I believe that you can. Next?"

The room was cramped and small, barely fitting us ten children plus our counselor, as Ava called her. We were pushed into a circle that made us so close to one another that our elbows touched. I was squished between Steph- Thomas, and another boy with black hair swept across his forehead and a bored expression.

"Minho?"

The boy snapped out of it. He blinked, then returned his face to its default emotion- something that made him look untouchable. "Name's Minho. I'm eight. My goal is to run faster than ever in the running trials, but saving the world sounds pretty cool."

I sucked in a nervous breath before speaking. "I'm Dylan. I'm eight. Um...my goal is to...touch my toes like Sonya can."

"Who's Son-yuh?" A blond boy asked.

Everyone stared at me, waiting for an answer. A blush crept up to my cheeks as I began to realize I said something I shouldn't have. Sonya wasn't in the room- in fact, the only time I had seen her was at training. Where was she?

Miss Hu looked anxious for some reason. Her voice was slightly higher than usual when she said, "Doesn't matter. Next."

My brother spoke, but I could hardly hear him with the embarrassment filling me up. I kept my eyes on my feet while his voice faded to background noise. My cheeks burned; I felt tears rising. Great- my first time in a room with all of the Subjects and I managed to make myself an outcast already.

The rest of the session went by quickly considering I paid no attention to the rest of the introductions. Miss Hu said a few more words I didn't hear before letting us go. Most of the kids stood and pushed past each other to get out of the cramped, stuffy room.

"Hey, there."

I looked up from my feet to see the girl named Teresa standing in front of me. She shifted most of her weight onto one foot and offered me a gentle smile.

I swallowed. "Hi."

"I'm friends with your brother, Thomas," she explained in a kind voice that made me instantly take a liking to her. "He talks about you a lot. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that I think you're really nice and I know what it's like to feel different. Do you want to be my friend?"

I took in her high cheekbones, pale skin, and striking blue eyes. She was pretty; I found myself wishing I had her black hair. Mine was plain, boring brown, just like my eyes. Everything about her was a stark contrast to me.

"Yeah, I wanna be your friend." I smiled and stood from my chair, finding myself wishing I was taller when I saw I only came up to her chin. "Nice to meet you, Teresa."

"You too, Dylan. We're gonna be best friends!"

--

I breathed in a short intake of air as my eyes snapped open. The monitor regulating my vital signs was blurry, but Dr. Mason's figure wasn't when she stepped in my line of vision. She was the same woman whom I had met when I first came to the facility, only now we were much closer six years later, with me at thirteen years old.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. My brain felt like it was swimming. "H-How did you do that?"

"You don't remember meeting your best friend?" Dr. Mason chuckled as she handed me a water bottle. I took it and greedily gulped the icy beverage down; my throat was parched.

"I remember how it happened," I stressed, "but not what we said. I especially don't remember it in that much detail. It was like I was eight years old again, sitting in that room with Miss Hu."

"You didn't remember any of it?"

"I remembered her telling me she knew what it felt like to be different. It's how I knew I could trust her."

Dr. Mason gently brushed a strand of hair behind my ear with a motherly touch. "But that's the thing, Lucy. You did remember. All I had to do was pull it to the front of the hippocampus- the part of your brain in which memories are stored."

I shook my head and set the water onto the small table beside the chair I was sitting in. "This is all too much for me."

The woman flipped through her files on me with her pencil-thin eyebrows pushed together in thought. Her dark skin was starting to wrinkle with age, and I recalled when I had gotten to HQ and she had looked so young. Six years of stress and hard work had taken a toll on her.

"You are remarkable, Lucy," she told me. "Every time we do these tests, you get a better score. We can monitor what you remember and to what extent. For example, you said this memory was in vivid detail. That's amazing, hon. More incredible than I think you realize." She closed my file with a snap. "Our brains work in astounding ways, but I think yours may be more valuable than any other."

--

Cold. So cold. The bed I was strapped to was hard and lumpy, the air conditioning on full blast until I was encased in shivers. The metal restraints around my wrists and calves only added to the discomfort with their freezing temperature.

My head pounded so hard I didn't want to open my eyes in fear my vision would be distorted. Deep, aching thuds mashed my brain until I felt like I was going to throw up. It hurt even worse than when I had woken up in the Box.

An incoherent mutter fell from my lips as my head flopped to the side. I was faintly aware of the fact I was on the move, my stretcher being wheeled down a hallway. A hallway? Wh--

"She's awake," a voice from above commented in an awed tone. "I can—"

Another person shushed the scratchy voice. Then, softly, they said, "Subject B1, you're being transported to the dropoff."

I had no idea what that meant, so I asked in a low, pained voice, "Can I get some painkillers first?"

There was whispering from above that I couldn't make out. They did not reply to my question.

Seconds ticked by. I tensed as a fresh wave of pain knocked my head, making the restraints tighten against my skin. Why was I even restrained? What was going on?

More mutters and the soft clink of metal against metal. I was still now, no longer being rolled down a hallway, and even that made me dizzy. My eyes stayed firmly shut as the people worked on whatever it was they were doing. And then, I felt the distinct sensation of being lowered down.

My heart leaped into my throat. I saw nothing but blinding sunlight when I opened my eyes, making me automatically squeeze them shut again. The bed and I continued our descent from the Berg to the ground below until I landed with a harsh thud that made me wince at the pain that shot to my sensitive head. The bonds released me; I sat up to rub my wrists and stiff neck.

Almost immediately, a gentle hand was on my back. I saw Newt's face swimming through blurry vision. Not responding to his silent question of my wellbeing and groaning instead, my head flopped forward and buried itself in his neck.

"All right, then," he sighed, repositioning me so he could easily lift me. "Up you go."

I grunted as he picked me up as though I were a baby and carried me away from the stretcher they had lowered me on. I managed to open my eyes a crack and see the others swarming around Thomas, who seemed to be okay. That was good. It was great if he was no longer in pain.

I writhed uncomfortably in Newt's arms. The thudding in my head was intensifying with every one of his steps, making me difficult to carry.

"Dylan, stop that," Newt scolded like I was, in fact, a misbehaving toddler. I went still and huffed into his shirt. To change the subject, he said, "Looks like Tommy's on his feet. What in the world did they do to you two?"

I muttered incoherently again in response, shrugging my shoulders to show him I had no clue. The only thing that was awry was a strange, soft ticking noise like some sort of electronic device. I dismissed it as the Berg.

"LOADING COMPLETE."

I yelped at the sudden noise and toppled out of Newt's arms, hitting the ground with a pained cry at the stabbing of my brain it brought. Newt immediately bent down and asked me what was wrong. His confused expression churned my stomach.

"You didn't hear that?" I breathed, searching his eyes. Slowly, he shook his head and scrunched his eyebrows together. I shifted my gaze to the ground and plugged my right ear, fearing what the outcome would be.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"Oh my God," I muttered with my eyes widening in fear. "Oh my God. Oh my God."

"What?" Newt asked and shook me a little when I didn't respond. "Dyl, what the hell did they do to you?"

"They put something in my head," I responded bluntly, my eyes as wide as golf balls by now. "There is something in my head and it's ticking and won't stop."

"A bomb?" Minho suggested as he popped up from behind Newt, who turned and punched him in the arm. The Runner sent him a glare and rubbed the wounded spot. "Kidding. 'Course they wouldn't plant a bomb in her head."

"Hey, maybe it's..." Aris, too, stepped out of thin air and said nothing else. He only stared at me with his eyes searing into mine. The only result was discomfort at his blank stare.

"Dude, the shuck're you doing? That's creepy. Cut it out," Minho ordered.

Aris shrugged and broke our gaze. "Just wanted to see if it was the telepathy thing Thomas and I have. If she didn't hear anything, it's not that."

I shook my head. The ticking was getting seriously annoying. "I didn't get anything."

Minho grunted discontentedly. "Let's get to the shelter and we'll figure out what the shuck's goin' on from there."

Newt nodded and heaved me back up in his arms. Ever since the strange, electronic voice had spoken from in my head, the headache had dialed down to a throbbing ache. It was still enough to leave me disoriented and unable to see straight.

The shelter Minho had referred to was nothing more than a small hut that had to be hundreds of years old. This place had once been a farm by the looks of it, but the thought of any vegetation growing in the Scorch was intriguing. It was unsettling to realize how much the world had changed since the sun flares destroyed it.

Once we were all inside, Newt gently laid me down so I was propped up against him. The position was similar to how I woke up after the lightning storm and was still just as comforting. He took one of my hands in his and squeezed. I nestled against his chest until I was cozy, not minding the heat and that I was already starting to sweat.

"All right," Minho said as he pointed to a spot in the shade for Thomas to sit. "You sit there, get yourself all nice and comfy and start talking. Tell us about your adventures with the aliens in their big bad spaceship."

"Which of us are you referring to?" Thomas questioned, motioning between himself and I with a confused expression. He really did look cleaned up; there was no sign of blood or even that he had been shot at all. "We were both up there."

"Whatever floats your boat," Minho responded with a shrug.

"I'll go," I offered, shifting so I was sitting more upright against Newt's chest. "I saw Rat-Man. Janson. Whatever you want to call him. He wanted me to tell him everything I remembered, but I wouldn't budge."

"Did he say why?" Frypan asked curiously.

I nodded. "He claimed he was worried about me, that they thought I would die if something went wrong and I remembered everything at once. I guess if they knew what I remembered, they could control it somehow. And then they knocked me out with some gas when I wouldn't cooperate and I woke up with a serious headache and something implanted in my head."

"Something in your head?" Thomas repeated incredulously. "Like what? What does it do?"

"I've been awake for all of eight minutes- calm down," I waved him off with a shrug. "I don't know. It just--"

"We can monitor what you remember and to what extent."

The memory of Dr. Mason's words suddenly struck me hard and fast like a sucker punch. My chest hollowed out as if the wind had been knocked out of me. I went rigid all over at the realization. Maybe the implant was meant to monitor my memories.

"Dyl, you okay?" Newt poked my arm. "You spaced out."

"I'm fine," I responded. "That's it. There's nothing else."

Thomas eyed me suspiciously from where he sat diagonally from where Newt and I were. He rubbed his hands together before launching into his own tale. "It was W.I.C.K.E.D that came and got us, as you probably guessed from Dylan meeting Janson again. I kept passing out, but they took me to some doctors who totally fixed me up. I heard them saying something about how it wasn't supposed to happen, how the gun had been a factor they hadn't expected. The bullet set off a nasty infection in me, and I guess they felt pretty strongly that it wasn't time for me to die. Just telling you what I heard."

He explained more about a conversation he heard that involved killzone patterns and Candidates, whatever that meant. There was also more about the Variables that Janson had mentioned briefly during our first meeting.

"-and I saw these signs all over the city," he continued while jittering his leg. "They said something about how I was the real leader."

I felt Newt's chest move with a heavy sigh. "So we're all candidates for something. And maybe the purpose of all the buggin' klunk we've been through is to weed out those who don't qualify. But for some reason the whole gun-and-rusty-bullet thing wasn't part of the...normal tests. Or Variables, whatever. If Thomas is gonna croak and die, it wasn't supposed to come from a bloody infection."

Weed out those who don't qualify. Did Theo not qualify? Did all of those who died before us not qualify?

"What this means is that they're watching us," Minho elaborated. "Just like they did in the Maze. Has anyone seen a beetle blade running around anywhere?"

Every Glader shook their heads.

"What the hell's a beetle blade?" Jorge questioned.

"Little mechanical lizard things that spied on us with cameras in the Maze," Thomas answered bluntly.

Jorge rolled his eyes. "Of course. Sorry I asked."

"The Maze was definitely some kind of indoor facility," Aris commented. "But there's just no way we're inside something anymore. Though they could be using satellites or long-range cameras, I guess."

Jorge cleared his throat before he launched into a speech. "What is it about Thomas and Dylan that makes them so special? Those signs in the city about him being the real leader, them swooping in here and saving their butts when he was sick and apparently she's remembering stuff. I'm not trying to be mean, muchachos- I'm just curious. What makes you two better than the rest of your buddies?"

"We're not better," I insisted with a scowl. "We're just...different, I guess." Teresa was different, too. Maybe that was why they took her.

"Still," Jorge scoffed. "I think I'll stay close to you two from now on."

A few more discussions were transferred between us, but Minho convinced us to get enough sleep before tomorrow. I laid on the sand with my jacket beneath me to keep the sand away and my head tucked into Newt. He had an arm around my middle, holding me close to him.

I had just started to drift off to sleep when the voice spoke again.

"COMMUNICATION CONFIRMED. HELLO, DYLAN."

------

ooooooooooooooohhhhhh

questions:

-what do you think the device in dylan's head is?

-who is talking to her?

-how do you guess it will affect her for the rest of the book?

-what kind of memories do you want me to include next?

it's summertime for me so expect pretty quick updates!!!

-kristyn