Hidden Mysteries

Thomas

Okay, so I'm really bad at coming up with names for chapters, so I'm just gonna say who's POV it is in. And Yay! I've finished the book. So, I'll publish a chapter every day or so.
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I couldn't believe it when I heard about the actual spread of the flare. Yes, it was still WICKED that spread it, but they didn't mean too. They were controlled.

A sudden hate swells up inside of me, for the people who spread the flare. It was their fault Newt was dead. Their fault Chuck didn't have parents. Their fault we lost so many in the trials. Winston. Zart. Alby. I could go on forever.

"Who's Deedee?" Minho asks suddenly. Beside me, Teresa says, "Me."

I can see the sadness in her eyes, the loss. I can tell that whoever these people are, they're important to Teresa.

"We need to get going," Stephan says suddenly. "If we're going to stop the flare, we need to move. Quickly. We're so limited in time. There's no way we will be able to do anything before the trials restart if we don't start immediately." That sends everyone into action. Stephan runs upstairs to get new crutches for Teresa.

In less than twenty minutes we are all sat in the berg. Lawrence is coming with us. I do a quick count in my head to make sure we have everyone. Teresa. Me. Harriet. Sonya. Frypan. Beth. Minho. Lawrence. Stephen. It's so hard to believe that were down to six people, both groups combined. In the maze, at the beginning we had about fifty. By the scorch, we were down to eleven in our group, plus Jorge and Brenda. Then, after, we lost Newt. Down to ten. I thought Teresa had died. That makes nine. Teresa comes back, we're back at ten. And now, all that's left of the gladers are four of us. Only four. And three from group B. How did we loose them? Why did we have to loose them?

Half an hour later we are in a remote spot. Remains of houses are on the floor, small chunks of wall that still stand here and there are the only signs that there used to be a village. "Teresa. Do you remember where your house was?" Minho asks. She nods, white as a sheet. Without thinking, I slip my hand into her's and squeeze. She squeezes back, as if to say 'Don't worry about me. I'm fine.' But she is definitely not fine. Her face gives it all away.

We follow Teresa through what used to be the village along a paved road so cracked it barely looks like it was once a word. I can't help wondering what happened here. And then something catches my eye. A house, small enough that it's not immediately noticeable. But it's entirely intact. One house. Not even a crack in a window. Teresa leads us right up to the door.
"This was my house."
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Sorry it's short guys! Since I'm now writing most of the boom before I post any of it, I will probably post the rest of the story tomorrow. Enjoy!