Thomas

The glass box lifted Leah out of the darkness. There were no memories—only fear and a name. The Glade greeted her with a roar. The boys stared at her, but she didn't cry. She looked at the walls of the Labyrinth as if she'd seen them before.

"There are no girls in the Glade," Gally muttered.

Leah was silent. Every night, when the moon hung over the Southeast Gate, she disappeared.

Minho found fresh tracks. Someone ran through the Labyrinth at night, and it wasn't a Griever.

Thomas was sitting on the tower when he heard the scraping of stone. The gate was closing. Leah slipped silently through the crack. She returned before dawn. The soles of her feet were bloody, but her face was calm.

— Where have you been?

Leah looked up:
— You know. VICE doesn't just test us. They record us. The Labyrinth is a memory imprint. They want to understand how we make decisions when there is no choice.

• But the Grievers...

"Grievers are machines. They see movement and run."

She held out her hand. In her palm was a piece of a map.

"Every night the Labyrinth changes. I've been here longer than you think. VICE erased my memory... seven times."

“Why did you come back?” he asked hoarsely.

— I was brought back. And I want to get out of here again.

She stood up and went to the gate. The sun was rising. She ran there day and night. She rarely slept.

"Well, Runner? Shall we go? It's just a labyrinth. There's nothing to be afraid of during the day."

Thomas stepped after her.

• You're crazy.