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     SAMSON AND MINHO MANAGED TO SNEAK AWAY TO THE MAP ROOM WITHOUT BEING SEEN. Everyone else had gone to sleep early after the day they'd had. They were all so burnt out after the Banishment and Samson couldn't blame them. He was tired, too. But he knew that Minho approaching him meant one thing; he was ready to go into the Maze.

     Minho opened the steel door, holding it open for Samson. He stepped into the room, which was much bigger on the inside than it seemed from the outside. Samson took in the area. Running gear was strewed everywhere, along with weapons and pieces of parchment paper and pencils. And sitting in the middle of the room, was a small-scale replica of the Maze itself. It was so detailed and complicated it gave Samson a headache just looking at it. The door slammed shut behind him and Samson winced.

     Samson wanted to get straight to the point. "So, can I go into the Maze?"

     The Keeper took a deep breath. "I...I think so," he made his way over to the table and Samson turned around so he faced him. The two of them stood at opposite ends of the table, staring at each other.

     "Since Alby announced the Banishment yesterday, I've been thinking. Without Ben, I don't have a partner to run the Maze with. So, I figured you could replace Ben," he said. Samson nodded but kept quiet because Minho still looked like he had more to say.

     Instead, Minho lowered his head. His hands clenched into fists and he sighed. "Ben was my friend," he said, and he let out a shaky breath.

     Instinctively, Samson stepped toward Minho. Proceeding with caution, Samson slowly reached for him and rested his hand on the Runner's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

     "Hey, Minho," he said quietly. "It's gonna be alright."

     But Minho kept his head down. Samson knew he was trying to hide how upset he really was over losing Ben. Minho took a deep breath and Samson braced himself. If Minho started to cry, he wouldn't know what he'd be able to do to help him.

     Samson dropped his hand down and Minho relaxed his shoulders and hands. He shook his head. "I still don't know about this. Seeing Ben like that scared me, I don't wanna-" Minho's eyes widened and he finally lifted his head. "Samson, I'm kinda--afraid," he said so quietly that Samson had barely heard him. They both frowned at each other.

     "Don't worry about me, Minho. You've gotta have a little hope, okay?"

     Minho just nodded. He rested his hands on the table in front of him, but his expression didn't change. Samson didn't know what else to say or do, but he did know they needed to get to work.

     "Right. Now, tell me about the Maze. Every last detail. Everything you know."

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     Minho and Samson stayed up well past the usual curfew going over all of the safety rules for the Runners, as well as the maps of the Maze and tips for running. After nearly two hours, Minho finally forced Samson to get some rest. Tomorrow, bright and early, he would run the Maze with Minho.

     The reality of his fate didn't hit him until he began walking to bed. It stopped him in his tracks. Samson took in a shaky breath, a wave of anxiety rushing over him. It was finally happening.

     Samson had only gotten four hours of sleep that night. He didn't want to risk sleeping in, so he tossed and turned when he should have been trying to rest, eagerly awaiting morning. At the crack of dawn, he forced himself up and snuck away from the rest of the Gladers, heading back out to the Map Room.

     Minho was already inside, seemingly waiting for him. He was dressed in his gear and pack already. "Come in. We still got stuff to do before we leave,"

     Two other Runners arrived shortly after he did, which alarmed Samson at first. He blinked back at Minho, who simply ignored him. The Runners didn't seem to care, or notice for that matter, that Samson was there. He could only assume then that Minho had informed all of them of what was going on, or perhaps he'd told them that Samson was a new recruit.

     "Over here," Minho called to him. There was a wooden trunk in the corner of the room, and Minho opened it up swiftly with one hand. Inside, were a few pairs of running shoes and a smaller box filled with digital watches. Minho reached out into the trunk and pulled out a pair of shoes.

     He held them up in front of Samson. "Think these'll fit? Your feet look small," he pointed down at Samson's feet and laughed to himself.

     Rolling his eyes, Samson took the shoes from Minho. But as he stared down at his own feet, he had to admit, Minho was right. They were small.

     Samson shrugged. "Yeah, these'll work,"

     Minho closed the trunk. "You don't get a watch, sorry. Those are for full-time Runners." He smiled back at him and then motioned for him to join the rest of the Runners at the table. Samson stared down at the replica of the Maze in amazement, his eyes darting between each crevice and corner the Runners had created. He could only imagine how big the real thing was.

     "Samson and I are taking Section 5 today," Minho said to the other Runners, pointing to the corner on the left-hand side of the replica, resting his hand on a rock that had the number five painted in white on it. "You two are in Section 3," Minho's hand moved over to the rock with the three, "And tell Connor and Tyler they're Section 7." The two Runners nodded to their Keeper.

     Minho straightened out his posture and sighed. "You guys know our plan for today, and you can't tell anyone, no matter what. Not even Alby. Especially not Alby. That'll just earn us all a turn in the Pit," Minho's eyes landed on Samson. "This plan is our last option. Our last hope. If something goes wrong, or if this plan was all just another one of the Creators tricks, we're all screwed,"

     Samson swallowed hard. "I know. Nothing's gonna go wrong. In a few days, we'll be getting ready to leave the Glade. For good," Samson smiled triumphantly, looking up at the Runners across the table, who gave him sharp nods.

     "Alright," Minho slammed his hand down on the table, smirking. "Let's go."

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     Samson and the three Runners started off in a light jog towards the Maze walls. As they approached them, Samson only grew more and more anxious and hesitant. He'd heard so many horror stories, he'd been taught that the Maze was dangerous, but still, there he was, about to run inside with no training whatsoever.

     He glanced back at the Glade and frowned. Although he believed in himself, he believed he could do it, there was a small part of him that was afraid he wouldn't make it out alive. In the four months since he'd arrived, Samson had learned to make a home out of the Glade and the people he shared it with. He thought of Clark and Leo, Newt and Gally. Would he ever see them again?

     Minho tapped his shoulder, snapping him back to reality.

     "We gotta get--oh, damn," Minho whispered the last part, dropping his hand down from Samson's shoulder and groaning. "Alby," he said through gritted teeth, nodding to the silhouette that was running towards them in the distance. Minho rolled his eyes and turned back to Samson. "I'll do the talking."

     Alby stopped in front of Minho and put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. After a second, he straightened out and rested his hands on his hips. Minho watched him with a funny look on his face.

     "I'm coming with you," Alby said breathlessly.

Minho scoffed. "You kidding me? You can't even run here from the Homestead without having an asthma attack," he nodded to Samson. "Besides, we got it covered. Samster's coming with me,"

     Ignoring the ridiculous nickname Minho had come up with, Samson relaxed his shoulders and gripped the straps of his backpack tightly, forcing himself to look straight ahead at Alby.

     Alby's eyes widened. "Not a chance. Minho, I was a Runner when we first got up here. I know my way-"

     "We were all Runners when we first got up here," Minho snapped back. "And if I remember correctly, you were kicked because you couldn't keep up."

     Alby's jaw clenched and Samson stood and watched in terror. Alby was going to ruin their entire plan. He didn't know why he hadn't thought about this earlier. Even if Alby hadn't come to talk to them before going into the Maze, he definitely would've sent Samson to the Pit upon his return for breaking rule number three.

     "Sam doesn't know what he's doing! He's a Cook, and I don't know what possessed you to give you the idea that he'd be a good running partner! He--"

     "He's been training with me!" Minho blurted out, cutting Alby off.

     Samson's eyes widened, but he quickly covered his shocked expression and lowered his head. Obviously, Minho was lying. He hadn't been training with him at all. But it was their only option at that point.

     Alby's eyes darted back and forth between Minho and Samson. He was still catching his breath from his run over to them. He shook his head, but before he could say anything, Minho spoke again.

     "He's been getting up early every morning and I've been teaching him everything, I swear. He's ready, Alby. He's strong and a good sprinter." Minho glanced over at Samson for a split second. "Plus, he's got spirit. We need him."

     Samson almost wanted to laugh. He wasn't any of those things. But Minho was definitely a good liar. Alby put his hands up in defeat and Samson held back a sigh of relief.

     "Alright. But if anything happens to him, that's on you, shank." Alby said, poking Minho in the chest. Alby cleared his throat, turning to Samson. "Be safe,"

     Samson nodded to him, managing a small smile before Minho was tugging at his arm. "We're already late, let's go," he whined and Samson let out a deep breath. He forced himself to tear his eyes away from Alby and the Glade and without another thought, he followed Minho and the rest of the Runners into the Maze.

     He ran slowly at first, in an attempt to save his energy, but if he quickly realized that if he wanted to keep up with Minho, he'd have to pick up the pace. Samson kept his eyes to the Maze floor at first, afraid that if he looked around too much at his surroundings he'd start to panic. The other team of Runners made a right and disappeared around a corner beside him. Samson watched them go, feeling uneasy.

     "Samson!" Minho called. He was already at the end of the left-hand side of the Maze. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Samson sucked in another deep breath and broke into a run towards him.
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author's note!

i love writing sam and minho, their dynamic is just...UGH *chef's kiss
love always,
chloe