BOOKS BY JAMESDASHNER

The Mortality DoctrineSeries

The Eye of MindsThe Rule of Thoughts

The Game of Lives

The Maze Runner SeriesThe Maze RunnerThe Scorch TrialsThe Death Cure

The Kill OrderThe Fever Code

The 13th Reality SeriesThe Journal of Curious Letters

The Hunt for Dark InfinityThe Blade of Shattered Hope

The Void of Mist and Thunder

This is a work of fiction. Names,characters, places, and incidents

either are the product of theauthor’s imagination or are usedfictitiously. Any resemblance toactual persons, living or dead,events, or locales is entirely

coincidental.

Text copyright © 2016 by JamesDashner

Cover art copyright © 2016 byPhilip Straub

Cover typography copyright © 2016by Stuart Wade

All rights reserved. Published in theUnited States by Delacorte Press, an

imprint of Random HouseChildren’s Books, a division of

Penguin Random House LLC, NewYork.

Delacorte Press is a registeredtrademark and the colophon is atrademark of Penguin Random

House LLC.

Visit us on the Web!randomhouseteens.com

Educators and librarians, for avariety of teaching tools, visit us at

RHTeachersLibrarians.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon

request.ISBN 978-0-553-51309-7 (hc) —

ISBN 978-0-553-51310-3 (lib. bdg.)ISBN 978-0-553-51311-0 (ebook) —

ISBN 978-1-5247-0081-2 (intl. tr. pbk.)

Ebook ISBN 9780553513110

Random House Children’s Bookssupports the First Amendment and

celebrates the right to read.

v4.1

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Contents

CoverBooks by James DashnerTitle PageCopyrightDedication

Prologue: NewtChapter 1Chapter 2

Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13

Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24

Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35

Chapter 36Chapter 37Chapter 38Chapter 39Chapter 40Chapter 41Chapter 42Chapter 43Chapter 44Chapter 45Chapter 46

Chapter 47Chapter 48Chapter 49Chapter 50Chapter 51Chapter 52Chapter 53Chapter 54Chapter 55Chapter 56Chapter 57

Chapter 58Chapter 59Chapter 60Chapter 61Chapter 62Chapter 63Epilogue

AcknowledgmentsAbout the AuthorExcerpt from The Maze RunnerExcerpt from The Mortality

Doctrine

For all the die-hard Maze Runnerfans.

You’re crazy and full of passion and Ilove you.

NEWTIt snowed the day they killed theboy’s parents.

An accident, they said muchlater, but he was there when ithappened and knew it was noaccident.

The snow came before they did,almost like a cold white omen,falling from the gray sky.

He could remember how

confusing it was. The swelteringheat had brutalized their city formonths that stretched into years, aninfinite line of days filled withsweat and pain and hunger. He andhis family survived. Hopefulmornings devolved into afternoonsof scavenging for food, of loudfights and terrifying noises. Thenevenings of numbness from thelong hot days. He would sit with hisfamily and watch the light fadefrom the sky and the world slowlydisappear before his eyes,wondering if it would reappear withthe dawn.

Sometimes the crazies came,

indifferent to day or night. But hisfamily didn’t speak of them. Not hismother, not his father; certainly nothim. It felt as if admitting theirexistence aloud might summonthem, like an incantation callingforth devils. Only Lizzy, two yearsyounger but twice as brave, had theguts to talk about the crazies, as ifshe were the only one smartenough to see superstition fornonsense.

And she was just a little kid.The boy knew he should be the

one with courage; he should be theone comforting his little sister.Don’t you worry, Lizzy. The

basement is locked up tight; thelights are off. The bad people won’teven know we’re here. But healways found himself speechless.He’d hug her hard, squeezing herlike his own personal teddy bear forcomfort. And every time, she’d pathim on the back. He loved her somuch it made his heart hurt. He’dsqueeze her tighter, silentlyswearing he’d never let the crazieshurt her, looking forward to feelingthe flat of her palm thumping himbetween his shoulder blades.

Often, they fell asleep that way,curled up in the corner ofthe basement, on top of the old

mattress his dad had dragged downthe stairs. Their mother always puta blanket over them, despite theheat—her own rebellious act againstthe Flare, which had ruinedeverything.

That morning, they awoke to asight of wonder.

“Kids!”It was his mother’s voice. He’d

been dreaming, something about afootball match, the ball spinningacross the green grass of the pitch,heading for an open goal in anempty stadium.

“Kids! Wake up! Come see!”He opened his eyes, saw his

mother looking out the smallwindow, the only one in thebasement room. She’d removed theboard his dad had nailed there thenight before, like he did everyevening at sunset. A soft gray lightshone down on his mother’s face,revealing eyes full of bright awe.And a smile like he hadn’t seen in avery long time lit her even brighter.

“What’s going on?” hemumbled, climbing to his feet.Lizzy rubbed her eyes, yawned, thenfollowed him to where Mum gazedinto the daylight.

He could remember severalthings about that moment. As he

looked out, squinting as his eyesadjusted, his father still snored likea beast. The street was empty ofcrazies, and clouds covered the sky,a rarity these days. He froze whenhe saw the white flakes. They fellfrom the grayness, swirling anddancing, defying gravity and flittingup before floating back down again.

Snow.Snow.“What the bloody hell?” he

mumbled under his breath, aphrase he’d learned from his father.

“How can it snow, Mummy?”Lizzy asked, her eyes drained ofsleep and filled with a joy that

pinched his heart. He reached downand tugged on her braid, hoping sheknew just how much she made hismiserable life worth living.

“Oh, you know,” Mum replied,“all those things the people say. Thewhole weather system of the worldis shot to bits, thanks to the Flares.Let’s just enjoy it, shall we? It’squite extraordinary, don’t youthink?”

Lizzy responded with a happysigh.

He watched, wondering if he’dever see such a thing again. Theflakes drifted, eventually touchingdown and melting as soon as they

met the pavement. Wet frecklesdotted the windowpane.

They stood like that, watchingthe world outside, until shadowscrossed the space at the top of thewindow. They were gone as soon asthey appeared. The boy craned hisneck to catch a glimpse of who orwhat had passed, but looked toolate. A few seconds later, a heavypounding came on the front doorabove. His father was on his feetbefore the sound ended, suddenlywide-awake and alert.

“Did you see anyone?” Dadasked, his voice a bit croaky.

Mum’s face had lost the glee

from moments earlier, replacedwith the more familiar creases ofconcern and worry. “Just a shadow.Do we answer?”

“No,” Dad responded. “Wemost certainly do not. Pray they goaway, whoever it is.”

“They might break in,” Mumwhispered. “I know I would. Theymight think it’s abandoned, maybea bit of canned food left behind.”

Dad looked at her for a longtime, his mind working as thesilence ticked by. Then, boom,boom, boom. The hard cracks onthe door shook the entire house, asif their visitors had brought along a

battering ram.“Stay here,” Dad said carefully.

“Stay with the children.”Mum started to speak but

stopped, looking down at herdaughter and son, her prioritiesobvious. She pulled them into ahug, as if her arms could protectthem, and the boy let the warmth ofher body soothe him. He held hertight as Dad quietly made his wayup the stairs, the floor abovecreaking as he moved toward thefront door. Then silence.

The air grew heavy, pressingdown. Lizzy reached over and tookher brother’s hand. Finally he found

words of comfort and poured themout to her.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered,barely more than a breath. “It’sprobably just some people hungryfor food. Dad will share a bit, andthen they’ll be on their way. You’llsee.” He squeezed her fingers withall the love he knew, not believing aword he’d said.

Next came a rush of noises.The door slammed open.Loud, angry voices.A crash, then a thump that

rattled the floorboards.Heavy, dreadful footsteps.

And then the strangers werepounding down the stairs. Twomen, three, a woman—four peopletotal. The arrivals were dressedsharply for the times, and theylooked neither kind nor menacing.Merely solemn to the core.

“You’ve ignored every messagewe’ve sent,” one of the men statedas he examined the room. “I’msorry, but we need the girl.Elizabeth. I’m very sorry, but we’vegot no choice.”

And just like that, the boy’sworld ended. A world already filledwith more sad things than a kidcould count. The strangers

approached, cutting through thetense air. They reached for Lizzy,grabbed her by the shirt, pushed atMum—frantic, wild, screaming—who clutched at her little girl. Theboy ran forward, beat at the back ofa man’s shoulders. Useless. Amosquito attacking an elephant.

The look on Lizzy’s face duringthe sudden madness. Somethingcold and hard shattered within theboy’s chest, the pieces falling withjagged edges, tearing at him. It wasunbearable. He let out an enormousscream of his own and threwhimself harder at the intruders,swinging wildly.

“Enough!” the woman yelled. Ahand whipped through the air,slapped the boy in the face, asnakebite sting. Someone punchedhis mother right in the head. Shecollapsed. And then a sound like thecrack of thunder, close andeverywhere at once. His earschimed with a deafening buzz. Hefell back against the wall and tookin the horrors.

One of the men, shot in the leg.His dad standing in the

doorway, gun in hand.His mum screeching as she

scrambled off the floor, reaching forthe woman, who had pulled out her

own weapon.Dad firing off two more shots.

A ping of metal and the crunch of abullet hitting concrete. Misses,both.

Mum yanking at the lady’sshoulder.

Then the woman threw anelbow, fired, spun, fired three moretimes. In the chaos, the airthickened, all sound retreating,time a foreign concept. The boywatched, emptiness opening belowhim, as both of his parents fell. Along moment passed when no onemoved, most of all Mum and Dad.They’d never move again.

All eyes went to the twoorphaned children.

“Grab them both, dammit,” oneof the men finally said. “They canuse the other one as a controlsubject.”

The way the man pointed athim, so casually, like finally settlingon a random can of soup in thepantry. He would never forget it. Hescrambled for Lizzy, pulled her intohis arms. And the strangers tookthem away.

221.11.28 | 9:23 a.m.

Stephen, Stephen, Stephen. Myname is Stephen.

He’d been chanting it over andover to himself for the last two days—since they’d taken him from hismom. He remembered every secondof his last moments with her, everytear that ran down her face, everyword, her warm touch. He wasyoung, but he understood that itwas for the best. He’d seen his dad

plummet into complete madness,all anger and stink and danger. Hecouldn’t take seeing it happen to hismom.

Still, the pain of theirseparation swallowed him. Anocean that had sucked him under,its coldness and depth never-ending. He lay on the bed in hissmall room, legs tucked up to hischest and eyes squeezed shut,curled into a ball, as if that wouldbring sleep down on him. But sincehe’d been taken, slumber had comeonly in fits, snatches full of darkclouds and screaming beasts. Hefocused.

Stephen, Stephen, Stephen. Myname is Stephen.

He figured he had two things tohold on to: his memories and hisname. Surely they couldn’t take thefirst away from him, but they weretrying to steal the second. For twodays they’d pressed him to accepthis new name: Thomas. He’drefused, clinging desperately to theseven letters his own flesh andblood had chosen for him. Whenthe people in the white coats calledhim Thomas, he didn’t respond; heacted as if he couldn’t hear them oras if he thought they were talking tosomeone else. It wasn’t easy when

only two people stood in the room,which was usually the case.

Stephen wasn’t even five yearsold, yet his only glimpse of theworld had been full of darkness andpain. And then these people tookhim. They seemed intent on makingsure he realized that things couldonly get worse, every lesson learnedharder than the one before it.

His door buzzed, thenimmediately popped open. A manstrode in, dressed in a green one-piece suit that looked like pajamasfor grown-ups. Stephen wanted totell him he looked ridiculous, butbased on the last few encounters

he’d had with these people, hedecided to keep his opinion tohimself. Their patience wasbeginning to wear thin.

“Thomas, come with me,” theman said.

Stephen, Stephen, Stephen. Myname is Stephen.

He didn’t move. He kept hiseyes squeezed shut, hoping thestranger hadn’t noticed that he’dtaken a peek when the man hadfirst entered. A different person hadcome each time. None of them hadbeen hostile, but then, none hadbeen very nice either. They allseemed distant, their thoughts

elsewhere, removed from the boyalone in the bed.

The man spoke again, not eventrying to conceal the impatience inhis voice. “Thomas, get up. I don’thave time for games, okay? They’rerunning us ragged to get things setup, and I’ve heard that you’re one ofthe last ones resisting your newname. Give me a break, son. This isseriously something you want tofight about? After we saved youfrom what’s happening out there?”

Stephen willed himself not tomove, the result only a stiffnessthat couldn’t possibly look likesomeone sleeping. He held his

breath until he finally had to suckin a huge gulp of air. Giving up, herolled onto his back and glared atthe stranger dead in the eye.

“You look stupid,” he said.The man tried to hide his

surprise but failed; amusementcrossed his face. “Excuse me?”

Anger flared inside Stephen. “Isaid, you look stupid. Thatridiculous green jumpsuit. And giveup the act. I’m not going to just dowhatever you want me to do. AndI’m definitely not putting onanything that looks like those man-jammies you’re wearing. And don’tcall me Thomas. My name is

Stephen!”It all came out in one breath,

and Stephen had to suck in anotherhuge gulp of air, hoping it didn’truin his moment. Make him lookweak.

The man laughed, and hesounded more amused thancondescending. It still madeStephen want to throw somethingacross the room.

“They told me you had…” Theman paused, looked down at anelectronic notepad he carried. “…‘anendearing, childlike quality’ aboutyou. Guess I’m not seeing it.”

“That was before they told me I