+++

     "HEY, SAMMY. Wake up!"

     Samson jumped forward at the sound, his head crashing into someone else's. A sharp pain ran through his head on impact and he groaned, bringing a hand up to touch the bump that he anticipated would bruise quickly. Newt was sprawled out on the ground in front of him, rubbing at his own head. Samson almost wanted to laugh. Of course it was Newt who had found him.

     "We've gotta stop meeting like this, Sammy." Newt grinned.

     "What--" Samson began, but Newt cut him off.

     "I think you fell asleep out here. Nobody's been able to find 'ya all morning, but then Clark told Alby he'd seen you out here last," Newt said. He stood up and offered Samson his hand. "Are you alright?"

      Samson nodded, hesitating for a moment before taking Newt's hand. "I was out here talking with Leo and Clark. I must've dozed off," he lied, keeping his eyes on the ground below them.

     Newt shook his head. "Anyway, you're late for work," he smiled down at him.

     "Oh," Samson sighed. "Well, I better get back then."

      "I'll walk you to the Cookhouse," Newt replied, starting back towards the Glade.

     Samson frowned but followed him nonetheless. As they walked in silence, Samson tried to think of something to say to try and diffuse the tension between them. He had to admit, being in the Deadheads alone with Newt again made him nervous. It was hard to believe it had been an entire month since that day, when Newt had held him while he cried under those trees. Samson's cheeks reddened just thinking about it. The way Newt had carried himself since then led Samson to believe that that day hadn't affected him at all, at least not in the way it had affected Samson.

     Still, he appreciated Newt looking out for him after all this time, despite everything. It was clear that he cared about the Gladers, and that he cared about Samson. Samson hoped one day he could repay him somehow.

      After what seemed like the longest walk, they finally arrived at the Cookhouse, and Samson had finally found the courage to small talk. "What're you doing today?"

      Newt clicked his tongue, cocking his head at Samson. "Erm..getting ready for the new Greenie, I suppose. They're late, too."

     Samson's face scrunched up in curiosity. "They're late?"

      "They were supposed to be here an hour ago,"

      "That's...weird," Samson replied. "Well...hopefully, everything's okay."

     Newt nodded. The two of them bid their goodbyes before it got too awkward and Samson watched Newt hobble back out into the Glade for a moment, biting his lip. Shaking his head, Samson pushed the door of the Cookhouse open and was greeted with the smell of bacon and the sound of Frypan yelling his name from across the room.

+++

     By lunchtime, the Gladers began to panic. There was still no sign of the Greenie, and this made everyone nervous, especially Alby and Newt. The Cookhouse was particularly loud that day, everyone coming up with theories as to why the Greenie hadn't come up. Samson ate quietly with Leo, listening to the other Gladers argue with each other.

     "Maybe the Box is broken,"

     "They probably ran out of Greenies,"

     "I bet the Creators think we're taking too long to escape this place. Maybe they're done helping us,"

     Samson lifted his head, suddenly remembering one of his dreams. Thomas had told him something about the Creators planning the Ending. This sent a chill down his spine.

      Eventually, Alby must not have been able to take all of the chatter because he slammed his fists against the table and stood up on his chair. "Listen up!" Newt got up from his seat and stood next to Alby with his arms crossed. "I'm sick of hearing all your shuckin' whining. So what if we don't get a new Greenie? That's one less mouth to feed," Alby huffed. "I can't even hear myself think with all of you flapping your gums at once. So, I'm cutting lunch short. Get back to work," Alby stepped down from the chair.

     The Gladers all groaned in response but listened to Alby, nevertheless. It was obvious that they didn't have as much respect for Alby as they'd had with Nick. If Nick were still alive, the Gladers wouldn't have complained at all about their lunch being cut. If anything, they'd understand and some of them might have even thanked Nick for snapping them out of their panicked state.

     Samson turned back to Leo who was just finishing his soup. He looked up at him and smiled, which calmed Samson's nerves slightly. The two of them had barely spoken to each other since the night before, but it comforted him to know that Leo wasn't angry.

     "I'll see you in a bit," Samson said as he stood up, taking his and Leo's bowls. "Tell Clark to come in here later to eat,"

     Clark was on cleaning duty in the Med-jacks hut that day and hadn't been able to come to lunch. He was the one boy in the Glade who really loved his job. At first, Samson had figured it was because it kept him distracted, but Clark had admitted that it was because of the good feeling he got when he helped a fellow Glader, even if it was just a Slicer coming in for a band-aid.

     Samson, in some way, felt the same about his job. He loved seeing the Gladers come in to get their food after a long day. It was the little things like making them smile that made him think the Glade wasn't all that horrible.

     The Greenie alarm pulled Samson out of his mind and back to reality. Frypan and Brandon came out from the Kitchen and all of the Gladers in the Cookhouse scrambled to the door outside. Sighs of relief rang through the building. Samson followed behind Leo and Brandon, eager to see who the Greenie was, and why they'd taken so long to be sent up into the Glade.

     Gally, Newt, and Alby were the first three to get to the Box. More boys gathered around quickly. Samson spotted Clark running towards the Box with Clint. They caught each other's eyes and Clark stopped where he was, waiting for Samson to catch up to him.

     "Hey," Samson said shakily, patting Clark's arm. "How has your day been?"

     Clark shrugged. "Long. I wish I wasn't on cleaning duty today. Maybe I'll get lucky and the Greenie will have a head injury or something," Clark chuckled.

     Samson shook his head. "Wishing an injury on the poor Greenie? You're crazy, man."

     They stood at the back of the group, furthest away from the Box, but Samson stood on the tip of his toes, desperately wanting a look at the Greenie. Alby and Newt each took a side of the Box and pulled it open. Samson tried to push to the front of the cluster, leaving Clark in the back.

     He watched Gally jump down into the Box. Samson stood in the second row, but Gally was so tall that he covered the Greenie's entire silhouette. Gally pulled the Greenie up by the collar of his shirt and threw him into the grass. The Gladers all took a step back and crowded around the boy. Samson jumped up behind Frypan and grabbed onto his shoulder in an attempt to steal a glance at the new face. Frypan shot him a dirty look and Samson smiled back at him nervously.

     "Sorry. I just wanna see--" Samson cut himself off as he met the Greenie's eyes. Despite the change of clothes and his sweaty complexion, Samson recognized him immediately. It was Thomas.

     Samson's mouth fell open and without meaning to, he gasped loudly. A few of the Gladers turned to look at him and he quickly snapped his jaw shut, his cheeks turning a crimson colour as he averted their eyes. The rest of the Gladers reverted their attention back to Thomas, laughing down at him while Samson stood motionless.

     Suddenly, Thomas lifted himself off the ground and away from the Gladers. He took off into a sprint towards the Maze walls. Samson watched him go, stopping himself from calling out his name.

     "We got a Runner!" Zart shouted and all of the others laughed. At first, Samson was terrified that he would run into the Maze. But as he stood and watched him go, Samson began to wonder if perhaps that was his plan. Maybe, Thomas had his memories. Maybe, he knew what he was doing.

     Thomas shot that theory down pretty quickly when he tripped and fell forward on his face. Laughter erupted from the boys again and Samson sighed. He stood up and scanned the Glade as the Gladers continued to hoot and holler at him.

     He knew he needed to talk to Thomas. He needed to figure out what had happened, and why he was in the Glade. The dream he'd had of the girl, Teresa. She'd said Thomas had been taken by the Creators. He wasn't supposed to be here. It wasn't part of the plan. Something had gone wrong.

     Two Baggers started towards Thomas and grabbed him by the arms, leading him off to the Slammer. The Gladers dispersed and went back to their jobs. Frypan tapped Samson on the shoulder and motioned for him to follow. He sighed but obliged. He wouldn't be able to talk to Thomas as soon as he'd hoped.

     Frypan and Brandon stood and waited for Samson with their arms crossed and he finally turned to them and nodded, heading back to the Cookhouse with them.

+++

author's note!

thomas is here!! yay!!! and the plot thickens...

love always,
chloe