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"IT WAS FRANKIE, I THINK," WINSTON SAID SADLY. "He was right next to me, making a joke, and then he just...it was like something yanked him away."

"Someone tell me what the shuck just happened!" Minho shouted over all the chatter.

Samson gripped Newt's hand tightly, trying to steady his breathing. He hadn't known Frankie very well at all, he'd only ever really spoken to him in passing at the bonfires back in the Glade. But he'd known him. He was one of them, he was a Glader.  And now he couldn't get his face out of his mind. Frankie was dead. How many more were going to die during this trip? Or even down this hallway?

"Look," Thomas spoke up. He stood right next to her and Leo. "I heard him screaming, and ran up here to help. I jumped on him, tried to pin his arms down, find out what was wrong. Then I reached for his head to grab him by the cheeks, and all I felt was..."

"What?" Minho shouted.

Thomas groaned, then said it. "His head wasn't a head. It was like a ... a big ... metal ball. I don't know, man, but that's what I felt. Like his shuck head had been swallowed by...by a big metal ball!"

"That makes no sense, Thomas," Leo said.

"Didn't you hear it rolling away right after he stopped screaming?"

As if Thomas' statement had triggered it, Samson suddenly felt something roll past his legs. Newt let go of his hand and Samson heard his feet slide off in the other direction. Samson reached out into the void to try and grab him, but he had already taken off after the metal ball. Samson sighed loudly to himself, irritated with Newt for trying to be a hero in this darkness. Instinctively, Samson he grabbed onto Leo again for support. 

"It's right here!" Newt shouted, his voice echoing through the dark. Samson heard him grunt with effort, and realized he was probably trying to roll it back over to the Gladers. After a moment, he stopped. "I heard it roll over here. And it's all wet and sticky--feels like blood."

"What the klunk," Minho whispered. "How big is it?" The other Gladers joined in with a chorus of questions.

"Everybody slim it!" Newt yelled. When they quieted, he said, "I don't know." Samson listened intently. "Bigger than a buggin' head for sure. It's perfectly round--a perfect sphere."

"Newt, get back over here please," Samson said desperately, noticing the break in his voice.

Leo groaned beside him. "We need to run," he said. "I can't take the darkness anymore."

"I'm with Leo," Thomas agreed. Everyone else agreed in their own way and no one protested, which was nice for a change. After a little bit of shuffling and bumping into other Gladers, Newt and Samson found their way back to one another, taking each other's hands again, Newt squeezed Samson's hand as a form of reassurance and Samson inhaled deeply. They just needed to get out of this hallway.

They set off running, far enough apart not to trip over each other. Samson had to let go of Leo and Newt, but he could at least tell by their harsh heaves of breath that they were still right next to him. If it weren't for Newt's limp, Samson would've sprinted up to the front and been the first one out of that hellhole. 

A 'death ball' got one more person. But no one stopped to help. They couldn't risk it, but that didn't stop the guilt gripping onto Samson as he kept on. They wouldn't even know who they'd lost until they made it out of the darkness. The thought brought tears to Samson's eyes, angry tears for all of the pain and loss that WICKED had forced them to suffer through. Part of him wanted to turn back and help, but his body kept him going forward, shifting into flight mode.  Something Minho had said to the Gladers back in the Maze flashed through his mind. He'd said, "Run like your life depends on it, because it does." And he did. He listened to the distinct sound of metal sliding against metal, a couple of hard clicks. The screams drowned out the rest.

Minho called for everyone to stop, and Samson could feel the relief that filled the hallway. The exhaustion had finally won over the terror of the thing that had killed two people. Sounds of the Gladers panting filled the small space. Frypan was the first one to recover enough to speak. "Why'd we stop?"

"'Cause I almost broke my shins on something up here!" Minho shouted back. "I think it's a stairway."

Samson tugged at Newt's hand again. "Come on," he said breathlessly. He pulled him forward towards Minho's voice. Leo wasn't far behind them.

He listened to the heavy stomps of Minho's footsteps as he ran up the stairs. Only a few seconds passed before other footsteps joined in, and Samson followed those too. A wave of relief washed over him--he hoped they were free.

A bang sounded from above, a deeper thump than the footsteps, but it still sounded like metal.

"Ow!" Minho yelled. Then there were a few grunts and groans as Gladers bumped into each other before they could stop themselves. Newt jerked Samson backward to avoid any further collisions with the boys. 

"You alright up there?" Newt asked.

"What'd...you hit?" Thomas called up through heavy breaths.

Minho groaned. "The shuck top, that's what. We hit the roof, and there's nowhere else ..." He trailed off for a moment, but Samson heard him laugh under his breath. "Wait! I think I found--"

A distinct click cut him off, and a burst of bright light engulfed the hallway, blinding Samson and the others. Samson cried out and covered his eyes with his hands. The blinding, searing light shone down from above. After being in the dark for so long, the sudden gust of light was jarring and burned his eyes. He'd wanted the light, but not like this.

Minho slammed the roof back down and the darkness returned. Samson dropped his hands from his eyes and blinked forcibly, trying to adjust his senses again.

"Shuck me," Minho said. "Looks like we found a way out, but I think it's on the freaking sun! Man, that was bright. And hot."

"Let's just open it a crack and let our eyes get used to it," Newt said. He stepped forward, dragging Samson along with him. The two of them walked up the stairs to join Minho. "Here's a shirt, wedge it in there. Everybody shut your eyes!"

Minho opened up the hatch again, and Samson shielded his eyes again. A glow flooded the room once more and several Gladers shrieked in response. Samson turned back for a moment to take a look down the stairs. They'd climbed up very high. He could just barely make out the shadows of the two boys who'd been killed by the metallic balls. He shook his head, grimacing at the sight.

Samson spun back around to face the Gladers again and was pushed back by Newt. He grabbed onto him and Winston and nearly pushed them down the stairs. Winston and Samson both held onto each other to steady themselves. Samson took a moment to catch his breath and process what had happened before he called Newt out.

"Newt, what the hell?" he snapped at him while he and Winston staggered back up the stairs.

He pointed up at the ceiling and every Glader looked up. Another glob of metal had formed on top of the ceiling. It began to fall, and several Gladers gasped. The metal ball landed in between Newt and Samson. They both stood over it and watched it for what felt like a long time. 

The glob began to expand and Samson could smell the scent of burning metal as it began to heat up. Before anyone could decipher what was going on, the metal ball fell through the staircase, burning a hole right through its structure.

Samson glanced back up at Newt, mouth agape. Newt gestured for him to move forward, putting his hand out for Samson to take hold of. He and Winston jumped over the hole in the stairs and continued on towards the others.

"Okay, we need to get out of here," Minho said. "I know it's hot as hell out there, but we can't stay in here with these metal death balls."

The Gladers came up with the idea of using their bedsheets as some form of protection from the scorched world above them. 

"Everyone ready?" Minho asked. 

Samson nodded quickly in response. Newt and Leo were next to him again, Thomas joining them as well. Leo was laughing with Thomas about something. Samson was baffled that they had found something to joke about after what they'd just been through. Samson glanced over at them from the corner of his eye and saw Thomas had his sheet completely covering him so only his face was visible. He grinned at Leo.

"You better thank the Gods you were born a dude, Thomas," Leo laughed.

"Thanks," Thomas' eyebrows scrunched up in confusion and Samson couldn't help but smile at the both of them.

Samson felt Newt's hand squeeze his again and his breath hitched. He counted to three in his head, but as if Newt had heard him, he whispered "Let's go,"

They ran up the remaining steps on the staircase and Minho pushed the roof open. The light and heat struck every Glader quickly and effectively. Samson shut his eyes tightly and hopped out of the roof with Newt.

It was so hot and so hard to see anything. White spots danced around Samson's vision and all he could see ahead of her were shadows of his friends. All he could comprehend was Newt's hand squeezing his, keeping him grounded as he tried to adjust himself to the new environment. He suddenly felt the urge to turn back, a sick feeling creeping up into the pit of his stomach that was telling him that the worst was yet to come out in the Scorch. Samson held on to Newt, trying to find the words to tell him that he wanted to go back, back into the darkness that he'd been so desperately trying to escape for the last hour. But his throat felt dry and hoarse in the heat, and the words died on his tongue.

"Come on! Let's move!" someone said from in front of him. He couldn't tell if it was Minho or Thomas.

Newt was able to pull him back to reality. Samson felt the pressure of Newt's hands on his shoulders and he shook them off. He didn't want Newt's hands to be exposed to the heat. His vision finally adjusted to the light and for a moment, there was clarity. He was able to see Newt clear as day, standing in front of him again before the tears blurred his vision.

"Sammy, we're alright," he assured. "We gotta go." 

"H-here," he stammered, raising his arms higher above his head. Samson pulled the sheet over top of him and Newt so he was better protected from the blazing sun. 

On and on they walked in the under the flare of the heat, silently for the most part because even just a few words caused them to run out of breath. But that didn't stop Samson's thoughts from running wild in her head. He and his friends had been through so much back in the Glade, and he really didn't want to die out in the Scorch.

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is anyone actually still reading this lol 

if you're out there please let a girl know bc i'm pretty sure no one read it LMAO 

please don't be a ghost reader!!! i really value the votes and comments because it motivates me to continue to publish this story. because if i have no readers it's like "well why am i even taking the time to write this" yknow? so if nobody is actually reading this series anymore i will simply stop updating lmao 

for those of you that are still here, i hope you enjoyed this chapter!!!

love always,

chloe