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     SAMSON HAD COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN HIS WAY AROUND THE MAZE. He found himself running into corners when the Gladers turned, and tripping over his feet from exhaustion. Still, he ran as fast as he could behind his friends. The Maze only brought back horrible memories and the faster they escaped, the better.

     For the most part, Samson ran by Leo's side. The two of them stayed silent so that they could focus on keeping up with the group, but every once in a while they'd catch each other's eye. Samson knew what Leo was thinking. Clark should have been with them. All of that adrenaline that Newt had given everyone back in the Glade was long gone, and Samson could tell by the looks on his friends' faces that they were all thinking about the ones they lost.

     They finally arrived at the Griever Hole at 1:30 in the morning. Everyone stopped just around the corner, breathing heavily. Samson collapsed against the wall and let out a loud sigh. Several heads turned in his direction and Leo smacked him on the arm.

     "What the--"

     Leo put a finger to his lips. Samson lifted his head towards Thomas and Minho who stood at the front of the group, peeking their heads around the wall that separated them and the Griever Hole. Thomas' head snapped back around to face the Gladers and they all stared back at him, still trying to catch their breath.

     "Is it a Griever?" Chuck whispered, answering everyone's question.

     Thomas nodded. A few of the Gladers cursed under their breath and Samson rested his head against the stone wall behind him, groaning. Minho spun around at the sound and motioned for Samson to come towards them. Thomas, Minho, Teresa, Newt, and Chuck all huddled in a circle, isolated from the others. Sam managed to squeeze himself in between Thomas and Minho awkwardly, frowning at the Runners.

     "You, Teresa, and Chuck are doing this," Thomas said. "Stay behind us until you have a clear passage down the Hole, and once you're down there, find out how to activate the codes."

     Samson nodded too quickly. It didn't seem right to let everyone else fight off the Griever. Samson wanted to fight the Griever. Images of Clark's fleeting last moments filled his head. He needed to avenge him. But it wasn't just for Clark. It was for everyone they had lost. Ever. Like Newt had said back in the Glade, the Creators were going to pay for what they had done to Clark, Nick, Ben, Gally, Alby, and so many others.

     After a moment, Samson took back his initial response and shook his head. "No. I'm gonna help up here. Teresa and Chuck know the codes, they'll be okay. I can't...I can't go down there knowing I could be up here helping you fight."

     Thomas and Minho looked as if they were going to object, but to Samson's surprise, everyone kept quiet. From the corner of his eye, Samson swore he saw Newt twitch from where he stood. Samson swallowed hard and stepped away from the circle to return to Leo.

     "Sam," Minho grabbed him by the wrist, earning a cold stare from Samson. Minho reached into his backpack and pulled out a machete. He handed it to him carefully. "Don't be stupid, okay? You've gotta control that shuckin' temper of yours."

     Samson nodded curtly. Newt's eyes followed him when he stepped back, and Samson could read his face again. He wore pleading, sad eyes and Samson merely lowered his head, hoping it'd be enough to tell him that he wasn't changing his mind about this. Samson could see that he was concerned, but he could take care of himself. He had a bad temper, that much was true, but Samson knew that he could use it against the Grievers and against the Creators. They had no idea what he was capable of.

     Thomas got everyone's attention again. He stood next to Minho at the front of the crowd and cleared his throat. "Alright. We stay close, we stick together, we get through this. We get out now, or we die trying."

     Samson felt Leo's hand on his shoulder. He squeezed it gently once and the two of them shared a nervous glance. Samson's hand curled around his machete. It felt strange to hold, but not unnatural. Something told him this wouldn't be the last time he'd have to use violence in order to survive.

     "Here we go. Let's do this," Thomas took another deep breath before yelling, "Let's go!"

     Every single Glader hopped up and followed Thomas and Minho around the wall and towards the Grievers with their own sort of battle cry. Samson was in the back of the crowd but he ran as fast as he could to the front. He passed by Leo, Newt, and Jeff. There was only one Griever waiting by the Hole and it had already spun around to face them. It roared defensively but the Gladers refused to slow down. Most of them carried long spears and sticks for weapons. Once Thomas and Minho were close enough, the two of them jumped on the Griever and stabbed it wherever they could reach. The Griever cried out in agony, and the rest of the Gladers followed suit. They threw their spears at the Griever, and most of them plunged into its slimy flesh.

     The Griever's stinger manifested itself and Samson's breath hitched. Nobody had brought the Grief Serum with them, so if someone were to get stung, they would die. He couldn't let that happen. Samson pushed to the front of the group with his machete in hand, and when the Griever's tail shot towards him, Samson swung his blade so forcefully that the stinger was cut clean off. The Griever bellowed in response and Samson fell backwards onto the ground, laughing breathlessly.

     As Samson glanced around to find his next target, he realized Chuck and Teresa still hadn't made it down to the Hole. They stood flat against the back wall, waiting for safe passage. Two more Grievers slowly creeped up on either side of them and Samson jumped to his feet.

     "Teresa!" Samson shouted and the dark-haired girl flipped around and screamed. She grabbed Chuck's hand and the two of them ran towards Samson. Teresa's scream grabbed Thomas, Jeff, and Winston's attention. Thomas yelled something to the others that Samson couldn't make out and the three of them started towards Samson, stopping in their tracks next to him.

     "We can take them!" Thomas said. Without hesitating, the four of them charged at the first Griever. While Thomas ran, he shouted out an idea. "We can push them off the Cliff!" he suggested.

     "No!" Winston retorted. "Teresa and Chuck have to jump down there! We'll just be putting them in danger!"

     Thomas groaned. They would have to kill them up on the ground and keep them away from Teresa and Chuck. The first Griever jumped forward and Thomas and Jeff both hurled their spears at its vulnerable parts. Thomas's spear landed inside the Griever's back and the creature sunk to the ground. It made a small clicking sound with its legs and went completely still. Samson's mouth hung open in shock. Thomas had killed it.

     The second Griever seemed angered by this. It roared ferociously, jumping up on its hind legs. Jeff ran forward to grab his spear but the Griever was quick. It sprung at Jeff and grabbed him by his legs. Jeff dangled in the air for a moment and the Griever swung him around. Samson, Thomas, and Winston all tried to grab Jeff but the Griever shoved them away and whirled around with Jeff still in its grasp.

     "Jeff!" Winston cried out. The Griever smashed Jeff against the wall and threw him over the Cliff. Winston screamed for his friend again, but he was gone. Samson shook his head furiously and while the Griever still had its back to them, he stormed toward the monster, leaping up onto its torso. He stomped his foot down on his back, and held his machete in the air, intending to kill the thing the same way Thomas had done just seconds ago.

     He could hear Thomas and Winston yelling at him from behind, but there was no going back now. He needed to end this, he needed to avenge all of his friends. But before Samson could strike, the Griever threw him off of his back. Samson landed hard on the ground, hitting his head on the stone. The Griever stooped down to his level and shrieked in his face. Samson tried to scramble to his feet but the creature pushed on, backing him up into a corner against the wall. Somewhere amidst all of the chaos, he'd lost his weapon. He was alone, with nothing to defend himself with.

     For a brief moment, Samson was able to get a look at his friends. There were only two Grievers left to kill. One of them blocked the entrance to the Griever Hole completely. The Gladers fought together to kill it, slicing and stabbing its legs every chance they got, while the other was the one that had Samson cornered.

     "Sam needs our help!" someone shouted amongst the Gladers.

     Leo and Newt were the first two Gladers to abandon the fight and help Thomas and Winston rescue Samson. Newt pushed past Thomas and Winston, running headfirst towards him. The Griever had Samson right up against the wall. It stood just inches from his face and oozed a dark liquid onto his pants. Samson's eyes trailed down towards the menacing stinger and he tensed up underneath the creature. He didn't want to go through the Changing again. Without the Grief Serum, it would be the worst death imaginable. He would rather the Griever just kill him then and there.

     "Samson!" Newt's voice snapped him out of his stupor. "Grab my hand, come on!"

     He shook his head violently and his eyes welled up with tears when the Griever hissed in his ear. He couldn't speak. He couldn't move. Despite knowing he was only delaying the inevitable, Samson was too afraid that the monster would lash out if he made any sort of movement.

     "Come on!" Newt called out again.

     Newt took another step forward and when he did, the Griever pulled Samson into its clutches. Samson gasped when it began to press against his chest. It was going to kill him. There was no hope for him. The Griever was too close and too determined.

     "I can't!" he cried out of panic, praying the Griever would hold off. He didn't want anything to happen to Newt. He could still survive. He could still escape. "Newt, just go while you still can! I won't make it. I won't make it, I won't--"

     "No Samson, I won't leave you!" Newt took another cautious step forward and when Samson tried to scream at him to stop it came out as more of a strangled sob.

     Newt spoke again, his voice demanding but still soft and sincere. "Sammy, please. You have to trust me."

     Slowly, Samson managed to wriggle his arm up from the Griever's cold, tight grip. He reached out for Newt, who jumped forward and tried to grab onto him, but the Griever reacted quickly too. One of its legs thrust out and would've stabbed Samson in almost the exact spot he'd been stung before, but instead, it drew its claw back in and sunk to the ground. It made a deep whirring sound and then went still.

     For a moment, Samson stood against the wall, breathing heavily, so afraid that the creature would come back to life and kill him.

     "Sammy, it's okay. It's dead." Newt said, his voice barely a whisper.

     Samson ran to Newt, grabbing him by the front of his sweater. Samson cried into his shoulder, forgetting about the rest of the Gladers for the moment. He shook violently in Newt's arms, listening to the sound of his voice.

     "It's alright, Sammy. I'm right here. It's gonna be okay."

     And despite everything that had happened, Samson knew he was right.

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