“Can you tell what those letters make out?” Miyoko asked. A half hour or so had passed since the others left, and the two remaining islanders hadn’t said a whole lot. But all four of their eyes stayed glued to the floating vessel. Miyoko pointed to the broad, dented, barnacle-infested side of the ship, where a ghostly image of three words ran along the front, just below the rusted railings. Holes in the right places indicated that plastic or metal letters had once been attached there, long since fallen off.

Isaac focused, squinting a little. “I think it says . . . The . . . something . . . Cutter.”

“Maze,” Miyoko said. “Holy crap in a handbasket. It says The Maze Cutter.”

Isaac stared at the phrase on the side of the ship, its every letter now obvious. His mind had gone blank, unable to comprehend why this boat was called such a thing.

That word meant a lot on this island. It seemed a reference to their most famous resident, Thomas, who’d been dead for over twenty years. Countless stories existed about the man and the Maze from which he and his friends had escaped. The Gladers. WICKED. Ava Paige. The Flare. Many tales, impossible for all of them to be true. But after so many decades and after so many tellings, one thing had stayed consistent. More people referred to Thomas as the Maze Runner than they did his actual name.

And here, right in front of him, seemingly out of a dream, now only fifty or sixty meters away, was a large boat with starkly similar words etched in rust and grime along its side. He’d heard people claim they were speechless before. That’s exactly what he was now, his brain a scorched valley.

Miyoko didn’t have the same problem. “What in the hell? What’s going on, here, Isaac? I’ll tell you what’s going on. This freaking boat came here looking for us. They know about Thomas and everyone that came here with him. After all these years, someone somewhere decided they weren’t done with the brave little Gladers that escaped through their magic machine. Kids, grandkids, great-grandkids, doesn’t matter. Thomas is some kind of god to them and they went on a pilgrimage. Or maybe they came to kill us. Or help us. Or tell us something.”

Isaac finally tore his eyes away from those ghostly words, The Maze Cutter. He looked at Miyoko.

“What did you say?”

She gave him a grim smile, then frowned, then tried to smile again. “Nothing. I have no idea what to say.” Her weight shifted from foot to foot.

“Me, neither,” he replied. “But we’ve gotta get on that boat.”

He expected her to say something like, let’s not be hasty. But she surprised him.

“Should we swim out?”

This broke him a little; he started laughing. She joined in. They were losing it.