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Thomas ran.
He didn't know where everyone else was; he never ran without Minho.
But he had left.
He was gone, and Thomas was alone.
He hated being alone.
He had the feeling he'd been locked up, alone.
He couldn't remember who had done it, but he didn't like them.
He needed to get away from them.
But he didn't know where he was.
Thomas ran.
He was alone.
He ran, blindly.
And connected with something, hard.
Thomas fell back, unable to catch himself. The thing in front of him flickered, changing from a tree to an ivy-covered wall to a Griever.
Thomas didn't know where he was.
He was alone.
Abandoned.
Hurt.
Why would they leave him alone?
Why didn't anything look real?
What was wrong with him?
Thomas got up and kept running; there was nothing else to do. He dodged the tree-wall-Grievers.
Stumbled, but caught himself this time.
There should be more people here. They didn't hunt alone, it wasn't safe.
What was he talking about? The only people he knew were the Gladers.
Or was that wrong, too? Was it all wrong? Why couldn't he figure out what was going on in his head?
Was this even real?
Was he even real?
Thomas was tired, but he ran.
Thomas was alone, but he ran.
Thomas was scared, and confused, and he ran.
Farther and farther and farther but there was no exit, this was an unsolvable forest-wall-Griever thing , not real at all.
(but you solved the last one. a voice told him. you got out. trust your instincts.)
Thomas ran.
Then he stopped.
And listened.
The thing had settled into a forest now, and he listened.
There were birds, calling…. his name? In a familiar voice.
He thought there might be someone else here, after all.
Thomas walked, alone, toward the voice.
The voice would help him.
But then another voice. A girl's, also familiar, from the other direction.
He paused.
(trust your instincts.)
He kept walking.
And walking.
He didn't want to run. When he ran, the forest changed into the thing and he didn't want it to do that.
He followed the voice.
It was safe, he thought. Someone he knew.
Had been through a lot with.
He just didn't know who .
Not yet, anyway.
But he would, soon.
Thomas walked, alone.
He was no longer scared.
He was.
He just was.
There was nothing else for him to be here, not now.
Maybe someday, he would be content or even happy here.
For now, he only existed in this space, in this time, alone.
Alone save for the voice, calling him.
And he would follow, anywhere.
Thomas followed, and followed, and followed.
Ava Paige watched, from the other side of the window.
What was going through his head?
He didn't know.
Couldn't know, until he woke.
Thomas thought he was dreaming, now.
There weren't forests this big left in the world.
It was sad.
He liked the trees, the animals.
The birds, calling his name.
"Wake, wake, wake, wake, wake."
"I will." He told them. "Soon. Let me stay here, just a little longer. Existing."
They let him stay until the moon came up.
Thomas startled. He wasn't walking, he wasn't in a forest. He was in a white room, strapped to a table.
This is what he needed to get away from. He should have followed the girl's—Teresa's—voice.
She would have led him to death.
Minho led him back to this, a place he was not.
Thomas was alone.
Again.
More alone then he'd been in his dreams.
He had to leave.
WICKED had left him like this, alone.
they had killed everyone else
It was no longer surviving together.
He was alone.
Abandoned by the few (Gally, Brenda, Frypan) who had made it out alive.
And so Thomas closed his eyes.
And followed Teresa's voice into death.
(Four hours. They were four hours too late, Gally and Brenda and Frypan. When they got to Thomas, he was barely breathing.
He never woke up again.)