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IT TOOK A MONTH, BUT THE GLADERS RECOVERED. Another thirty days had come and gone for Samson and he could barely believe how fast it had gone by.

The first week without Nick was tough for everyone. So many of the Gladers slacked off, slept in and moped around. Some of them stayed in the Cookhouse all day and all night. For that first week, the Glade was eerily quiet and unoccupied. Still, Samson went to work in the Kitchen every day. He didn't want Alby worrying about him on top of everything else.

Alby had changed so much. Having all of Nick's responsibilities thrown on him was hard and scary for him and Samson could tell. He didn't see him around as much. He didn't come into the Cookhouse to eat. After the first week, Samson decided to start bringing him his meals so that at least he knew he was eating. And even though he didn't show it, he knew Alby was grateful for it. Alby chose Newt to be the new Second-in-Command, which didn't surprise Samson. They were best friends, and it's what Nick would've wanted. But that also meant that Samson didn't see Newt much anymore either, he was always too busy checking up on everyone else who needed him.

Two weeks after Nick's death, there were still some Gladers who just couldn't seem to move on. It was mostly just the Sloppers and the Gladers who were close with Nick. There was even a Runner who would just sit in the Cookhouse and cry. Whenever Samson would ask him if he wanted something to eat, he'd just cry to him about how he'd lost his two best friends in the whole Glade; first George and now Nick. Samson felt awful for them all, but he knew sooner or later, things were going to have to go back to normal.

Eventually, Alby came to his senses and realized that the Gladers couldn't live under that dark cloud any longer. At dinner one night, Alby jumped up on a table and stood there until the whole room went silent.

"I understand that everyone here is grieving Nick. He was our leader. He was smart and kind, and logical. He gave us hope. But most importantly, he wanted us to live. He wanted us to keep things going no matter what, and he wanted us to work our tails off so we could get out of this shuck place. Sitting around and crying for him isn't what Nick would've wanted us to do. I'm not gonna watch you all grieve anymore. We need to get things moving again. So starting tomorrow, if I see any of you slacking, it'll be one night in the Slammer,"

A few Gladers groaned or stood up to protest. Newt stepped forward and held his hand up.

"Alby's in charge now! He's right, this is getting out of hand. We need to pick things up 'round here, make Nick proud." Newt's eyes were dark and low as he scowled at the few boys who were arguing. He too had changed a lot. It was clear that being Second-in-Command in the Glade was stressing him out.

The Cookhouse slowly quieted down again and Alby shook his head. "That's all I've gotta say. I hope my message is clear. Enjoy your meal," Alby stepped down off the table and still, nobody spoke.

A few days after Alby's speech, things went back to the way they were before. The Gladers carried on without Nick, and Alby continued to try and get used to everyone calling his name and asking him questions left and right. Samson continued to bring him lunch.

Meanwhile, it was Clark's turn to try out all of the jobs. He'd told Samson he really liked working with the Med-jacks. Most days, he had lunch with just Clark and Leo and he had to admit, it was really nice to have them around. Clark was a good kid and the perfect addition to the Glade. He trusted Clark and Leo, and almost every day he debated back and forth on whether or not he wanted to tell them about his dreams.

Samson had been having frequent dreams of Thomas. Sometimes it was faint memories from his past, and sometimes it was Thomas speaking directly to him. With every dream, he became more and more convinced that Thomas was real and everything he was telling him was true.

Thomas had mostly just been telling him the same things. How he was sorry this had to happen to him, how he and a resistance organization were going to help rescue the Gladers, how he was just waiting for the right moment to initiate the escape plan.

The resistance organization was called the Right Arm. The plan was that Thomas was going to contact them when the time was right and they would raid the Maze and rescue the Gladers. If Thomas couldn't get through to the Right Arm, then the Gladers would be taken by the Creators again and put into Phase Two.

On the last day of the month, Samson was expecting a dream. He'd figured out the pattern. The dreams came every five days. On those nights, Samson went to bed right after dinner. He'd say goodnight to Leo and Clark and then head straight to his cot out in the field.

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"We'll miss you."

Samson was back in that lab with Thomas. This time, a girl stood next to him wearing a sad smile. She had dark hair and piercing blue eyes. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Samson, who did the same.

Samson sighed into her arms, tears escaping his eyes. "I'm nervous," he shuddered.

"It's only gonna be a few months. And I'm gonna try and be with you, helping you out every step of the way." Thomas said. Samson and the girl let go of each other. "You'll be seeing Minho and Gally again, too. Tell them hi for me. Ask Minho if he's still mad at us," Thomas laughed, but his eyes were sad.

Samson sucked in a deep breath. He glanced at the door apprehensively, then back to Thomas and the girl. "You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do this," he said, his face breaking out into a wide grin.

With that, Samson turned to the nearest lab desk and with one swift movement, he swiped all of the equipment off of the table and onto the floor. Glass beakers and test tubes smashed on impact, chemicals foamed and simmered on the ground beneath him and Samson's white shirt became stained. He moved on to the next table, repeating the process, while Thomas and the girl stood back and watched in shock and amusement.

"You don't understand!" Samson screamed at the top of his lungs. "We can't keep doing this to them!"

"Samson! Stop, you're acting crazy!" the girl cried, her eyes shifting back and forth between him and the door.

Samson started towards the next table grinning like a madman, but before he could do anything, the door to the lab was burst open and men dressed in all black carrying large guns came piling in. Samson pushed the lab equipment off of the desk in front of him, cutting himself on the glass in the process.

"Stay away from me!" he warned, but the men continued forward.

Samson didn't move. Or rather, he couldn't. He was trapped in the corner of the lab with nowhere to go and nothing to defend himself with, his own blood from the gash on his hand dripping down onto the floor.

"This is all your fault! You're killing them in there! The next generation of the world, our generation, is dying out in those Trials so that they can survive! Can't you see that?" he spat at Thomas, whose eyes widened.

Another man stepped through the door and past the guards, dressed in all white with his hair slicked back. He wore a name tag over his heart, identifying him as Anderson. Samson's face scrunched up in disgust at the sight of him.

"Samson, what is the meaning of this?" Anderson tilted his head.

"You--" Samson ran forward, his hands outstretched. Anderson took cover behind the guards, who took their chance and grabbed Samson by his arms. He resisted. He kicked and screamed and wriggled around in their grasp like a little kid throwing a tantrum. "Let go of me!"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you'd caught the Flare, Samson." Anderson taunted, leaning forward on his heels. Samson snarled back at him, still trying to free himself from the guards.

"I'll kill you," Samson hissed. "I'll kill you and everyone else who did this to us! And if you try to get rid of me, I'll be back. I'll be back with an army and I won't stop until you all pay for what you've done!"

Anderson shook his head. "Such a waste," he sighed. "Take him to Med Bay."

"No!" Samson cried. "You won't get away with this--I'll kill you all!"

The guards lifted Samson up and tightened their grip on him as he writhed and struggled under them. Samson continued to shout and cry at the guards, at Anderson, and at Thomas and the girl. But just before the guards took Samson out the door, he glanced back at Thomas one last time and winked. Thomas lowered his head to hide the smile that had appeared on his face and the girl relaxed her shoulders.

Then Thomas, the girl and the lab faded away into the darkness.

Samson was confused. That was a memory, he was sure of it. It all felt so familiar to him. The girl was familiar. He knew her, and he knew Thomas. If he hadn't been before, Samson was certain Thomas was real now.

And then, Thomas appeared in front of him again, sitting back where he always was, in the same lab. After so many weeks of dreams and from how Thomas spoke, Samson realized that Thomas was recording himself and then sending the messages directly to his dreams somehow.

Thomas's hands were shaking and he took a deep breath. "Hey, Samson. Listen, we're getting close here. I finally got through to the Right Arm. I didn't give away the coordinates or anything yet though, but I'm gonna have to soon. We need to speed things up."

He seemed a lot more on edge, licking his lips and talking faster than usual. He swallowed hard, looking up. "I need you to get stung."

Although he was dreaming, Samson felt himself tense up at his words. Thomas sucked in a deep breath again and set his hands down on the table in front of him.

"I know it's scary, but it's worth it. You've just gotta find a way to get stung, make it back and get the serum. Then you can remember. You know the information I can give you in these dreams is limited. So I need you to get your memories back. It's the only way you'll be able to escape. But...we're running out of time. There's a new Chancellor and she--I think she's planning the Ending."

Suddenly, an alarm similar to the Box alarm sounded through the lab. Thomas jumped, spinning around. Red lights flashed from the ceiling and Thomas stood up abruptly.

"Shit," he muttered, leaning in close to the screen he'd been recording himself on. "Sam, you've gotta trust me. Find some way to get into the Maze, and get stung. It's the only way."

Then he was gone, swallowed by the darkness again. Samson sat up in his cot, eyes wide. He was woken up by the same alarm from his dream. It was the Greenie alarm.

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