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SAMSON WANTED TO BE THERE WHEN THOMAS WOKE UP. Thomas had gone through the Changing, which meant he would remember things from his past. Samson was sure that was why he'd stabbed himself with the Griever's stinger in the first place. He wanted to remember. Samson didn't know what memories he'd get back, but there was a good chance that he'd finally remember what had happened to them at WICKED, which Samson believed would be a good thing.

Teresa and Chuck were sitting in the chair next to Thomas's bed in the Med-jack hut when he returned. Samson slipped into the room and limped toward the bed he'd been occupying before he'd gone into the Deadheads. He'd managed to calm himself down since his argument with Newt, but not before punishing himself for what he'd said. He could feel the thin scratches developing on his back from hurling himself against the bark of the tree, and could already picture the scolding he'd get from Clark when he found out.

Samson finally looked up at Teresa and Chuck, who seemed to be waiting for him to say something. Teresa smiled at him thoughtfully.

"I'm Samson," he said, sticking out his hand for her to shake. He realized he'd never properly introduced himself to her since she'd arrived in the Glade. Teresa was the first girl he'd seen in a long time. He was the only girl he could remember from his life before the Maze, too.

"I know," she replied. "I'm Teresa."

Samson let out a breathy laugh. "I know."

Clark and Newt bursted through the door before Samson could say anything further, startling everyone else. Samson's eyes immediately fell to the floor below him. He wasn't ready to face Newt yet. Or Clark, for that matter.

"How's Thomas do-"

Before Clark could finish, Thomas sat up and gasped loudly. Samson's head shot up in surprise. Thomas panted heavily as Teresa and Chuck tried to push him back down against the bed, but Thomas shoved them away. He turned to Newt, and the corners of his mouth quirked up.

"What?" Newt had his arms crossed over his chest and wore a puzzled expression.

Thomas took a deep breath. "DEATH, STIFF, PUSH." he whispered.

Samson's eyes widened."What'd you say?"

"I don't know what they mean, but they're important," Thomas said.

Clark seemed to catch on before anyone else. "The last three codes?" he turned to Samson, who nodded slowly, his mouth hung open in shock. He couldn't believe it. He never thought it'd be that easy. Well, as easy as getting stung and going through the Changing.

Newt shook his head. "I feel like I'm the only one who doesn't know what's going on."

Teresa shrugged. "I have no idea what's going on, either."

Chuck nodded. "Me neither."

Samson smiled up at Thomas with the sudden urge to fist bump him. "We're getting out of here, thanks to Thomas and I."

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Newt, Teresa and Chuck left Thomas and Samson in the Med-jack hut to rest. Clark stayed behind to check their wounds (and clean Samson's fresh cuts) but cleared out shortly after, confining Thomas and Samson to bed. But as soon as the Med-jack was gone, Samson threw his sheets off and turned to face Thomas again. He wanted to know more about what he'd seen in his Changing. Or at least, as much as Thomas could tell him. If WICKED was listening, they'd surely try and prevent him from disclosing anything.

But before Samson could get a word out, Minho barged into the room, drenched in sweat. He rested his hands on his knees and sighed.

"I literally just got back from running, but I heard you were awake," he said breathlessly to Thomas. Minho wiped his forehead and collapsed in one of the chairs across the room. "So, what'd you see?"

Samson smiled at Minho. He was glad the Runner had the same questions he did.

Thomas shut his eyes for a moment, clearly trying to remember just what he'd seen. Samson bit his lip in anticipation. He figured he should probably warn Thomas about the Creators.

"Thomas, wait," he began. "Before you tell us anything, you have to know that the Creators are gonna try and stop you." Both Minho and Thomas gave him strange looks. Samson simply shrugged. "I don't know how they can do it, but if you say something they don't want you to say, they'll try and block your thoughts somehow by giving you a massive headache."

Minho nodded slowly. "Huh. Okay...well, Thomas, just watch what you say, I guess."

Thomas ignored the Runner. "How can they do that?"

Minho groaned and stood up abruptly. "Who cares! Tell us what you saw, man!"

It was Thomas's turn to roll his eyes. He sat up in his bed. "Okay, okay," he started. "Well, it's all starting to blur and mix around in my head now, but I remember..." Thomas gulped. "I used to work with the Creators."

Before Minho could say anything, Thomas held a hand up to stop him so he could continue.

"Just hear me out! I worked with them, and so did Teresa, but I didn't agree with what they were doing to you guys in here. So, I started going behind their back and creating this plan to get you guys out." Thomas turned to Samson. "I saw you. You were part of this escape plan too."

Minho sighed. "Yeah, we already knew that buddy. What else did you see?"

Thomas blinked twice. "Wait, how did you guys know?"

Samson decided to speak up, stopping Minho from provoking Thomas again. "Your plan was to transmit these dreams into my brain so you could talk to me and tell me the plan even after I had my memory wiped. I've been getting them since I got here. But I kept it a secret from you because when you came up into the Maze, you didn't remember me." Samson sighed. "Thomas, you weren't supposed to be sent up. The plan was that you were going to rescue us when we escaped, with the help of a rebel group. Get us away from the Creators, and to safety."

Thomas nodded quickly. "I know, I know. But something went wrong, the Creators got angry, and they threw me in here I guess."

"Did you see anything else?"

Thomas seemed to ponder on it for a moment but shook his head. "Not really. Just the codes. And I saw this lady in white who kept telling me WICKED is good. Whatever that means."

"So we have all the codes?" Minho asked. Thomas and Samson nodded and Minho sighed happily. "Well, what are we sitting around for? I'm gonna tell Newt we need to have a Gathering or something. We're getting out of here as soon as possible."

Minho started for the door but Thomas stopped him. "We don't know how to use the codes. We just know they're our way out."

The Runner nodded. "What about the Griever Hole nonsense you were saying the other day?"

Samson was confused. He'd found out from Clark that Thomas and Minho had gone back into the Maze while he'd been asleep, he knew Thomas had become a Runner. But he didn't know anything about the "Griever Hole nonsense" they were talking about now.

Thomas clasped his hands together. "You may be onto something, Minho."

Samson shook his head in confusion. "Wait, wait, wait. What does the Griever Hole have to do with this?"

"That's how the Grievers leave. And as far as we know, that's the only exit out of the Maze. That's gotta be where we put the codes in." Thomas stood up, and Minho high-fived him. They both headed for the door this time, and before Samson could call after them, they were gone.

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Samson found Clark and Leo at dinner. Because of the damage to the Cookhouse, everyone had to eat outside for the time being. Samson felt bad that Frypan had had to cook all by himself that day, and sent him a sympathetic look from across the field. He promised himself he would help him out the next day. That was, if they were still in the Glade. It was no secret to the Gladers that Thomas, Newt and Minho had planned a Gathering. Rumours had even begun to circle that they were going to try and escape as early as that night.

"Hey, we were just talking about you!" Clark beamed when Samson sat down next to him. Leo didn't look as happy to see him as Clark did.

"All good things or bad things?" Samson asked. Clark merely shrugged, and Leo kept his head down, clearly trying to avoid Samson's gaze. Samson leaned toward him. "So I'm assuming you know about our plan to get out of here, Leo?"

The dark-haired boy finally lifted his head and nodded half-heartedly. "You're leaving us."

Samson frowned. "Leo, you know it doesn't have to be this way. Just come with us, please."

Leo didn't answer him. Instead, he suddenly became very interested in the food on his plate, picking at it gently with his fork. Samson turned to his next victim; Clark. He seemed to sense it, because he avoided Samson's gaze, too. Samson rolled his eyes. Clark and Leo were his best friends in the Glade. There was no way he was going to leave them behind for the Grievers and the Creators to mess with. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he did. 

"Clark," he started, dragging his name out playfully. Samson knew the younger boy would be easier to sway. "If anything, it's you guys who are leaving me. You know we're not safe here anymore. All we have is each other now. We need to do this together. We can't let the Creators win."

Samson's eyes flickered over to Leo, who still didn't seem to be budging. "Leo, you said it yourself back in the Box. We'll never be safe as long as we're here. I know the Maze is scary. I was afraid of it even before I ran it. But it's our only way out. Right now, it's our best chance at survival. With the Doors open, the Grievers will come back and they'll kill you all. I don't want you guys to end up like that,"

Clark cleared his throat. "Leo, maybe he's right."

Leo shook his head. "No. We have to stay in here and stick to what we know. We--"

"We can't stay here," Samson hissed. "If you want to survive, you need to get over yourself, Leo. You know as well as I do that we're better off taking our chances out there."

"Our chances are too slim. I can't--I--" Leo stood up and snatched his plate off of the table before storming off further into the field. Samson called out to him, but he kept going. He lowered his head in defeat. It was no use. It seemed that Leo would never understand that the only way of surviving was through that Maze.

He felt Clark's hand on the small of his back. He smiled back at him. "I'm coming with you. Don't worry," he whispered and Samson nodded, but returning the smile was easier said than done. Still, he was glad he'd been able to get through to him.

"Let me talk to him. I'm sure he'll come through." Clark patted Samon's back again and stood up to go after Leo. Samson watched them from afar, and it pulled on his heartstrings. Even if Clark could convince Leo to follow them, he had a sick feeling deep down that their friendship was lost. And without all of his friends by his side, what was the point of it all? He needed to fix things.

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