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LEO AND GALLY RAN TO SAMSON'S SIDE, EACH OF THEM TAKING A SHOULDER AND LIFTING HIM OFF OF THE BED. Even though he hadn't even gotten the chance to fall asleep, Samson felt like he had just been abruptly woken up from a nap. He was groggy and disoriented. He tried to plant his feet and walk to lift some weight off of his friends, but when he did, he nearly fell face-first into the floor of the Med-jack hut. Samson caught himself at the last second, his breath hitching in shock. Gally and Leo pulled him back up and the three of them hobbled out of the hut, Samson pressing his hand into his bandages for support.

"What's happening?" Samson asked, his voice cracking.

Gally pushed the door open. The sun was beginning to go down around the Glade, but it was far from peaceful. Gladers ran past them, carrying lanterns and spears in their hands. Samson's eyes fell on the East Doors of the Maze. It was well past curfew for them. They should have closed long ago. But they stood tall and wide open, like a bad omen waiting to happen. Samson gulped. The Creators were up to something.

Thomas, Teresa, and Minho came running out of the Homestead towards them.

"Leo! Samson!" Thomas called from across the field. He stopped in front of the trio and took a moment to catch his breath. "We have a plan, okay? If the Grievers come-"

"They will come. Why do you think the Creators opened the Doors?" Gally spat back.

Thomas rolled his eyes at the Builder. "Gally, we don't have time for this."

Gally turned away from Thomas, glancing over at Leo. "You're right. We gotta get Samson somewhere safer. He's not gonna be able to fight them off when they come, he's still recovering," he took one last look at Thomas and frowned. "Come on, Leo."

Leo shook his head at Thomas, and he backed off, stepping back and heading towards the rest of the Gladers. Gally and Leo hoisted Samson back up on their shoulders and watched Thomas run back to the others.

"Guys--" Samson started. He suddenly found it hard to breathe, and he couldn't tell if it was because of his injury or because he was terrified. Something told Samson that if he encountered a Griever again, he wouldn't just be stung. He'd be killed. Still, he didn't want to burden his friends. "Please, I don't want you risking anything for me."

"Sam, would you shut it?" Gally groaned as he carried him along.

They took him all the way to the Box, stopping just in front of its lid. Samson had to admit, it was a good hiding spot. And it was big. They could fit so many Gladers in there, save so many.

Samson lifted his head. "We've gotta help the others," he croaked out. "Clark..we need to find Clark."

Gally ignored him, and Samson was too tired to pry. Leo and Gally set him down on the grass for a moment and they each took a side of the Box, lifting the lid up. Leo jumped down first and Gally helped Samson pull himself up again, grabbing him by the shoulders. He and Leo worked together to get Samson safely down into the Box. Leo sat him down in the corner and Gally closed the Box over them, enveloping them in complete darkness. Samson laid his head back against the cold wall of the Box and tried not to think about the last time he'd been stuck in this position.

"Sam," Leo whispered. His eyes landed on Samson's exposed chest.

The bandage was soaked almost completely in his blood. His wound suddenly felt ten times heavier and so much more painful. Samson gasped. He wasn't sure how or why, but his wound had reopened.

Leo slid down next to him "It'll be okay. This'll be over soon. We can find Clark and he'll fix you up," he said Clark's name like he had a feeling they wouldn't see him again. Samson's lip quivered.

"Sam...It'll be okay. I'm sorry," he whispered.

Tears he couldn't seem to hold in any longer fell from the brim of his eyes and onto his eyes. He'd never felt more afraid, for himself and for his friends.

From outside the Box, Samson swore he heard someone calling his name. His head shot up abruptly. He tried to stand but Leo pushed him back against the wall and shook his head. Gally stood up instead, listening to the muffled cries from outside.

"It's Newt," Samson realized. It had to be. "We have to help him. I have to get to him. Please, let me help him." Samson sputtered out.

Leo held him back, resting his hand on Samson's waist to keep him from trying to get up. Samson scowled at Leo and he frowned in response, tears welling up in his own eyes.

Gally turned back to them. "We can't," he sighed, "Newt's gonna get himself killed, yelling like that."

Samson lowered his head, clenching his jaw as he listened to Newt above him, wishing there was some way he could tell him that he was safe. He was close by, Samson knew that much. But then, his cries were cut off. Samson's breath caught in his throat. He wouldn't let himself believe that something had happened to Newt. Newt was smart. Newt was alive.

They waited impatiently for the chaos atop them to end, but the longer Samson sat, feeling more and more useless with every second, he was beginning to believe that it would never end.  Every once in a while, they'd hear a Griever roar and someone scream. Samson knew he should have been out there, helping his friends. But with this injury and little to no fighting skills, he'd probably only do more harm than good.

Several Gladers came to the Box, begging for them to open the hatch and let them in, but they were all killed before Gally could even get to his feet. After the third Glader, Gally slammed his fists against the wall, groaning in frustration.

"Everything started going wrong the minute Thomas showed up. I told you, Sam. He's a Creator. I told you. He's destroyed everything we've built up for the last two years!"

Samson shook his head. "Gally, he's on our side. He worked for the Creators, but he didn't agree with what they were doing. That's why he's here. He..." Samson stopped himself, remembering what had happened to him in the Med-jack hut. If the Creators were listening, they'd punish him for trying to warn Gally.

"I can't believe you're taking that slintheads side. After everything you and I have been through, and everything he's done!" Gally retorted.

Gally opened up the hatch of the Box. He started to climb up the wall, and Leo jumped up from where he was sitting.

"What are you doing?" Leo shouted. He stepped forward to try and grab Gally, but Gally swatted him away.

"I'm going to save my friends, and to knock some sense into the Greenie," he said sternly. Samson started to say something, but Gally shook his head. "Stay here until it's all clear. I mean it, Sam. I know you wanna help, but you can't. Not while you're still healing."

Samson's eyes followed Gally slowly as he climbed out of the Box and back into the Glade. He shut the hatch behind him, and then he was gone. Samson put his face in his hands and cursed under his breath. A part of him felt responsible for the Grievers attacking the Glade. If he'd gotten the codes in his Changing as he'd originally planned with Thomas and Teresa, they'd have already escaped the Maze. They'd be far from the Glade. They'd be safe.

"I want to help them. I'm supposed to help them," he cried. "I was supposed to get all the codes. We could've been on our way to safety by now if I had just--"

Leo crawled back towards Samson. "Hey, hey. It's gonna be okay. This isn't your fault, Sam. And it isn't Thomas's. It's the Creators. They're the enemy. They're the reason we're here, and the reason why we're not safe. Why we'll never be safe," his voice grew quieter as he spoke and his eyes drifted to the floor.

Samson remembered the day he'd told Leo and Clark about his escape plan, He remembered what Leo had said to him. "I know I mope around saying how much I hate this place, but it's better than being out in the Maze, where your chances of dying are even higher." It seemed Leo had realized that wasn't the truth anymore. Not even the Glade was safe for them anymore.

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After nearly half an hour of sitting, waiting and listening, Leo stood and climbed up the wall to peek outside of the Box.

"I think they're gone," he said.

Leo opened the hatch completely and helped Samson to his feet, using the wall behind them to keep their balance. The two of them exchanged a worried glance. Samson knew what he was thinking. Leo wasn't going to be able to lift him out of the Box all by himself.

"Wait here," Leo jumped up the wall of the Box and began to wave his hands in the air. "Hey! Someone help!" he screamed.

Samson stood on the tip of his toes, watching the surface of the Glade closely. Frypan came out of the shadows and towards the Box.

"I'm glad you guys are okay," he panted, resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

"I need you to help me with Sam. He can barely stand," Leo said, and Frypan nodded.

Leo lept back down to Samson and grabbed him by the armpit. Slowly, he and Samson climbed up the wall. Frypan stood above them with his arms out, and when he was close enough, Frypan grabbed Samson from Leo's arms and pulled him up. Samson groaned in pain when Frypan sat him down on the grass. He needed to find Clark.

"Thank you," he whispered to Frypan.

Frypan smiled, his eyes travelling down to Samson's wound. "Newt's looking for you," he told Samson. "He was freaking out until Thomas told him you were with Gally,"

Samson nodded, a wave of relief washing over him at the news. Newt was okay. Obviously, Samson hoped everyone was okay, but he hadn't stopped thinking about Newt the entire time he'd been down in the Box. He had so much to say to him.

He turned back to Leo. "Will you help me find him? And Clark, and Gally, and--"

"Samson!"

Samson spun around at the sound of his name. Newt was running towards the Box, his limp more noticeable than ever before. Samson began to stand, wobbling on his feet as he did. Newt stopped in front of him, sighing deeply.

"I'm sorry," Samson said quietly. "I heard you. But Gally wouldn't let me go to you. And really, I can barely walk so..."

Newt choked on a laugh, averting his eyes from Samson.

"Well that makes two of us," he said breathlessly. "I'm glad you're alright,"

"Yeah, you too, Newt," Samson said, and he meant it. He really meant it.

Newt stepped closer to him. He swallowed hard, looking down into Samson's eyes. His were clouded with tears, tears Samson hoped he hadn't caused. He wanted to say something else to him, something that would make him feel better. But his mind went blank, as it always did when Newt was around. He never knew what to say when they were together. Newt's lower lip trembled and he took in a shaky breath.

Then, without warning, he leapt forward into Samson's arms. Samson was taken aback for a moment, unsure of what to do. Newt chin's burrowed into his neck and he broke down, letting out a strangled sob. This snapped Samson out of his daze. He pulled Newt closer to him, their bodies coiling together so tightly, even though Samson was sure he was beginning to bleed out of the corner of his bandage. For once, he needed to be there for Newt, like he had been there for him so many times before.

"Alby's dead," Newt cried.

Samson sucked in a breath. Alby was dead. Newt's best friend, and the leader of the Glade. Samson hugged Newt tighter to his chest, biting his lip in an attempt to ignore the pain in his side. Hot tears began to trickle down his own cheeks. He almost couldn't bear to see Newt in such a state.

He glanced ahead at the site around him. The Gladers had gathered in a circle around the Box, staring back at Samson and Newt. Samson felt his cheeks heat up at all of the eyes on him, but he tried to shake the embarrassment off, for Newt. Thomas stood just ahead of him, holding one of the needles from a Griever in his hands. Samson recognized it right away, his mind travelling back to that day in the Maze. Just the thought of it made him feel lightheaded. He watched Thomas closely as he examined the stinger, wanting nothing more than for Thomas to chuck the thing halfway across the Glade.

Instead, he muttered something to Teresa and with one swift movement, Thomas drove the stinger into his leg.

Samson pulled away from Newt abruptly and turned him around to face Thomas. Newt didn't seem to understand what was going on until Chuck, Teresa and Jeff reacted, running to Thomas as he fell to the ground.

Newt grabbed Samson's hand almost instinctively and pulled him towards the scene. The two of them got to Thomas as quickly as they could, but it was too late. Thomas shook violently, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Samson dropped to the ground, his hands stained with his own fresh blood.

Clark and Leo were by his side before he could even register what had happened to him, and Samson couldn't help but smile. Clark was alive. He slid down beside him, propping Samson's head up on his legs, whispering things to him that he couldn't make out. Samson shut his eyes in discomfort when Clark began to peel the bandage away from his skin. He swore he could feel it lingering. Death. He'd never felt so close to it before.

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author's note!

i'm still on the fence about continuing this series after this book. like i said, i'm just not motivated bc of all the ghost readers and i feel like it's just not worth it at this point. i also have such a love-hate relationship with the maze runner fandom that over the years, i have often lost motivation to write this story. i love the maze runner, but the fandom can be super toxic and negative and it's just annoying ):

that being said, a big thank you to those of you who do frequently comment and vote on each chapter. i'm sure you all know who you are. i love you so much <3

anyways, i hope you all enjoyed this chapter regardless!

love always,
chloe