Chapter one

The beginning of the end

It was over. Finally, after three years, it was over. They had solved The Maze. Completed the Scorch Trials. And finished the Death Cure. They had won. And never again would any of them have to fight another Griever, Crank or WICKED employee.

With a soft smile Thomas stared out at the sunset before him, feet dangling off the edge of the cliff. Brenda was next to him, snuggling into his chest. Minho was already taking control of the survivors. Creating searching parties for food, getting people to start building shelters and so on. WICKED was behind them and the future looked shucking brilliant.

"There are over two hundred of us and we're all immune. It'll be a good start."

Thomas looked over at her, suspicious at how sure she sounded—like she knew something he didn't. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

Thomas put it all out of his mind and pulled her closer as the last wink of the suns' light vanished below the horizon…

And then he woke up.

With a gasp he shot up, glancing around wildly. Soft grey blankets were tucked tightly around his lower body. An IV was stuck in his arm, unknown orange liquid being sucked through the tube. Suction cups stuck to his chest. A monitor beside him beeped urgently. A helmet with bits and pieces of metal sticking out of it was strapped firmly to his head.

"Shuck," he hissed to himself as he ripped the needle from his arm, a small bead of blood forming where it had previously been. His heart pounded. With a grunt he yanked off the suction cups, jumping from the bed, his feet slapping against the cold tiled floor. He practically tore the helmet off of his head.

Silence.

The urgent beeping had been suppressed. A shiver raced up Thomas's spine as he slowly took a step forward. His legs felt like jelly, his entire body shaking as he leaned against the table. Why was he suddenly so weak? Where did Brenda go? Had the entire thing been a shucking dream? Why was the room spinning? Where the heck was he?

"Dylan, I see that you're awake."

A short yelp of surprise pushed itself from Thomas's mouth as he spun around. A woman was sitting there, eyes focused on a Newspaper in her hands.

"Who are you?" Dylan asked with a glare, taking a step back. Had it always been this hard to breathe?

"A friend," she stated mysteriously as she turned the page, a smirk gracing her cherry red lips. "I'd sit back down in the bed if I were you. After all, your legs have barely been used in the last three years."

Thomas narrowed his eyes as he struggled to remain standing. Who the heck was this woman? Was WICKED involved? So far she didn't seem to pose any threat, but, then again, it could just be a trick.

"Where am I?" Thomas demanded, trying to sound tougher than he felt. It wasn't exactly working.

"A hospital," the woman put down her newspaper as she crossed her legs and gently placed her hands in her lap. "Now, sit down Dylan."

"My name isn't Dylan," Thomas stated as he took another step backwards. "It's Thomas."

The woman sighed as she pushed some midnight black hair behind her ear, glancing around the room as she debated on what to say.

"Alright then," she stated as she stood up, dusting off her knee high white skirt. "Thomas, please take a seat. I'll be sure to answer all of your questions once you do."

To trust, or not to trust? That was the question. They would probably kill him if he did trust them, although, thinking about it now, if they had wanted him dead he probably already would be. With a frown he cautiously made his way back to his bed, sitting on the very edge. He'd be ready if he needed to make a run for it.

"I'll start off with this," the woman stated as she walked to the end of the room and leaned against the door. "Your real name is Dylan O'Brien and everything you just experienced, The Maze, the Scorch Trials, everything was a computer simulation. Now, before you say anything or bombard me with questions, let me explain."

The woman took a moment to gather herself, reaching over and handing Thomas the newspaper. He briefly glanced it over, eyes narrowing as he read.

"Cure found by mapping the Killzones of Teenagers!"

"Teenagers create cure with help of Doctor Janson."

"The World has been saved by the Youths!"

"You saved us," the woman whispered, bringing Thomas's attention back to her. "You were put into the simulation because of the Flare. It was a much safer and more logical way to map your killzones. And you did it."

"H-how-" Thomas shook his head and the woman held up a hand, shushing him.

"I'm not done explaining," She reprimanded sternly. "I'm not going to go into detail on the Flare, you practically know everything about it already. After all, we didn't want you emerging from the simulation, not knowing the basics. The sun did scorch the land, and Cranks did appear. But now we have a cure."

She gave a small smile, sitting down once more into the chair.

"Now, let's get into details," she clapped her hand once and pulled out a notebook, clearing her throat. "Everyone you met in the simulation was either a computer AI, or another Diver, like you. Oh, uh, Divers are the name we have for whoever went into the Simulation. For example, everyone you met in the Glade is a Diver. All of you volunteered to go into the simulation, despite the side effects—"

"Side effects?" Thomas blurted out.

"I'll get into that, now shush!" The woman narrowed her eyes as she pursed her lips in irritation. "As I was saying… You all volunteered to enter the simulation, despite the known side effects. Now, each Diver would have some sort of side-effect once they left the simulation. It could be Paranoia, Muscle Atrophy, even extreme dizziness. It all depends on what you went through in the simulation. The more trauma you experienced in there, the more side-effects you will end up having."

The strange woman let this sink in, quietly fishing out an electronic tablet.

"How can I trust you? How do I know what you're saying is the truth?" Thomas accused as he narrowed his eyes. Quietly, the woman handed over the device, a small play button appearing on the screen. Thomas hesitated, finger hovering over the electronic for five seconds until finally he pushed it.

"Hello, my name is Dylan O'Brien, and I work for WICKED."