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SAMSON SLOWLY OPENED THE DOOR BACK OUT INTO THE HALLWAY. He was dressed in clean clothes that he'd found folded in the dresser in the dorm. Although the shower had been a horrifying experience, he felt fresh and clean. Newt was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, waiting for Samson just as he had promised. He smiled up at him as Samson made his way over, pressing himself up against the wall next to Newt. Samson could hear the faint commotion of the other Gladers down in the other room, Minho's voice most prominently. Then he looked up to the ceiling and made the realization.

The bodies were gone.

It didn't make any sense to Samson. How all of the bodies could have just disappeared in a matter of minutes, leaving no trace of evidence that they had ever even existed. He and Newt had barely been in the dorm for half an hour. The awful smell of rotting flesh was gone as well. It didn't seem possible. But if it was WICKED as Samson suspected, he knew anything was possible with them.

"They were gone when I came out here," Newt said. "This place is driving me batty."

Samson scoffed. "That makes two of us."

Newt glanced up at him, hesitating before asking, "Can I ask what that was all about in there?" he was referring to the panic attack that Samson had experienced in the shower. Newt looked wearily back at Samson.

Samson sighed. "I don't know. I guess being in that tiny space reminded me of the Box and it freaked me out. That Box caused us so much trouble. I started--" he paused for a moment and shut his eyes. "--I started thinking about all of the shit it really caused us, and everything that the Creators have put us through. And then the Greenie Alarm started going off in my head, and I couldn't take it." he looked up at Newt sincerely. "I'm sorry."

Newt cocked his head to the side. "Sammy, that alarm wasn't in your head. I heard it too."

"Really?" Samson's eyes widened and Newt nodded quickly. "Do you think the others heard it then?"

Newt shrugged. " I dunno. I thought about going out into the common room to see what was going on, but I promised not to leave you."

Samson gave him a small smile. "Well, let's go and find out."

He felt Newt's hand on his shoulder. He squeezed down on it for a moment, leading Samson down the hallway. The two of them slowly walked through the common room and towards the other dorm. Newt pushed the door open into the dorm and all eyes landed on them. Samson even heard someone shriek. The Gladers had made a circle around the middle of the dorm, using beds as seats.

"Knock next time you slintheads," Minho barked. Newt shot him a glare and the former Keeper of the Runners pointed towards two seats the Gladers had left for them.

"Did you guys hear that bloody Newbie Alarm?" Newt asked as soon as he sat down.

Thomas nodded. "Yeah. And those bodies are gone,"

"Something's definitely wrong here. What else did we miss out on?"

Thomas and Minho exchanged questioning looks and then turned back to Samson and Newt.

Leo cleared his throat and raised his hand. Minho nodded to him. It was the first time Samson had really seen him since the night before. He couldn't recall seeing Leo out in the common room with all of the bodies before. "Lift the back of your shirts down for a minute."

Leo and Thomas both stood up from where they were sitting and Samson shook her head in confusion. "What? Why?"

Leo sat down behind Samson. Thomas mirrored his actions, sitting down behind Newt. Leo smiled at Samson and then motioned for him to turn his back to him. "We wanna see your new ink," he said.

Samson blinked back at Leo in confusion but reluctantly obliged. He pulled the back of his shirt collar down and sighed deeply. Leo's fingers tickled the back of his neck for a moment, brushing lightly over his hairs. Samson's eyes flickered over to Newt and noticed Thomas was doing the same to him.

Leo lowered his hands from the back of Samson's neck. "Sam, it calls you Subject A13: the Key."

Samson spun around to face Leo again. "Wait, you were serious when you said I had a tattoo?"

Leo nodded. "Yeah. We all have them. We're all Subject As, with different numbers and different titles."

"What's yours?" she asked Leo.

"A8, 'The Lionheart'," Leo scoffed.

"That means you're brave," the new boy, Aris, spoke up. Everyone's heads turned towards him and he sunk down into his seat.

Leo raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "I think I got the wrong tattoo, then."

Samson brought his hand up to the back of his neck in an attempt to feel for the words. When and how had it gotten there? He figured he, or Newt, or someone would've noticed, or he would have at least felt the prick of the needle that had printed the tattoo on the back of his neck.

The Key. Whatever that meant. Samson didn't have the energy to try and decipher WICKED's codes any further. If they wanted to throw a nickname at him, so be it. It didn't mean that he had to embrace it.

"What does yours say, Newt?" Samson asked.

Thomas answered for him since Newt obviously couldn't see his. "Says, Subject A5, the Glue."

"The Glue?" Newt scrunched his eyebrows up in confusion and stared back at Thomas.

Thomas shrugged. "Yeah. It's probably because you're the glue that holds us all together, you know?"

Leo and Thomas both stood up and went back to their seats, and Samson focused on Newt for a moment. The glue that held them all together. Thomas had that right. Everyone looked up to Newt. Everyone respected him and called him a friend. His loyalty to the Gladers was inspiring. Everyone could count on him. Samson especially.

Samson smiled to himself and reached out to squeeze Newt's shoulder. Newt snapped out of his daze and sent Samson a half smile in return before the two of them turned their attention back to Minho.

"-So, I think we should just rest up and chill out. Too much has happened today, and trying to deal with it all in one sitting is starting to exhaust me."

Frypan stood up from where he was sitting and high-fived Minho. "Good that, brother."

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Samson headed wearily back to his bunk in the other room with the Gladers. They tried to settle into a routine of sorts, but it was clear they were all thinking about the same thing, they were all worrying about what lay ahead for them. The Gathering hadn't gotten them very far, and their discoveries of the day had only made them more afraid.

Most of the boys managed to fall asleep. Samson listened to the scattered sounds of snores and heavy breathing as he tried to lull himself to bed, but he couldn't seem to shut his mind off. He kept replaying the events of the last couple of days, going over them again and again to try and make sense of it all. The woman in the video from the lab, Doctor Paige, had told them that everything they had been through had been for a reason. The Maze Trials were human experiments, used to try and find a cure for the Flare virus. Was this an extension of the trials? Were they still being tested? That had to be the case. Their escape, their rescue, the safety that was ripped from their hands, all of it was staged to keep the Gladers stimulated in their experiment.

Samson pressed his head into his pillow and groaned to himself. He couldn't keep torturing himself like this, but he also had accepted the fact that he wasn't going to get to sleep. After spending a couple of extra minutes tossing and turning in his bed, Samson sat up and shook himself off, trying to take deep breaths to distract his brain from his thoughts. Thomas was in the bunk above him and Samson knew he was awake as well.

Quietly, Samson lifted himself out of the bed. Thomas peeked over the side of his bunk immediately. "Sam? What is it?" he whispered.

"Nothing," Samson replied. "I just need to get up for a sec." he looked up at Thomas. His tattoo, Samson had discovered, had revealed that he was Subject A2: To Be Killed by Group B. Since Aris had been named Subject B1: The Partner, the Gladers took this to mean that the girls from the Spring were going to be a threat. Aris too. The Gladers had locked him back in Teresa's room for the night, just to be on the safe side. "Try and get some sleep, Thomas."

Thomas scoffed in response. "That feels impossible."

Samson nodded. "Yeah. I know. Look, Thomas, we'll figure this out. Nobody's gonna let you die, okay? We've got your back." He meant that. He wasn't going to let anything happen to his friends any longer, no matter what. Samson knew he would do anything for any of them. They were his family, his brothers.

Thomas managed a smile. "Thanks, Samson."

Samson wandered out into the dark hallway, staring down at his bare feet on the cold floor. He turned the door handle of the other dorm as quietly and slowly as he could, but the metal still squeaked as he pushed the door open.

Newt was laying in one of the bottom bunks, both of his hands resting on his chest. He lifted his head off of the pillow swiftly at the sound of the door behind him, but Samson watched his body relax when he realized Samson's silhouette.

"Sammy," he whispered into the night. "What're you doing?"

"Can't sleep," he replied, tiptoeing towards Newt's bed.

"Yeah, me either." Newt shifted in the bed to make room for Samson to sit next to him.

"What are we gonna do now?" he asked him quietly so he wouldn't wake the others.

Newt sighed. "I dunno. At this rate, with everything that's happened, it's unpredictable."

"Do you think it's WICKED?" Samson knew that it was the Creators behind all of this. Who else could it have been?

"If it is, then they need us. They won't let us die."

Samson nodded slowly, but he wasn't sure if he was fully convinced of this thought, not after he'd watched so many of his friends die in the Maze Trials, disposed of by WICKED like they were nothing. WICKED had let so many die. Clark, Gally, Chuck, Alby, Nick. But Newt had to be right. Samson wanted to believe him. That was really all the hope they were able to have, the small hope that maybe WICKED would ensure their survival if all of this really was just another one of WICKED's experiments.

Samson sucked in a deep breath. "I can't get them out of my head, Newt," he said shakily.

Newt's face softened. "Who?"

"My friends. Our friends. Everyone who died for us."

Newt frowned and wriggled closer to Samson. He reached forward and took his hand in his.
"They'd all be so proud of you for making it out, Sammy. You know that. And they'd want you to keep fighting. For them. And I know it's hard, but--"

Newt sighed and lifted his head so he was looking up at Samson again. "One day it'll all be worth it. We'll be safe. I know it. We'll find a place where WICKED won't be able to touch us. I promise."

Samson smiled lazily at him. His soft, soothing voice, his gentle massaging of Samson's hand, it had managed to finally induce Samson's exhaustion. He wondered if perhaps that had been Newt's plan all along, to lull him to sleep.

"Can I stay here?" Samson asked timidly.

Newt smiled. The two of them rested themselves down on the bed, laying face to-face with each other. Samson could feel Newt's breath tickling his face, their noses just inches apart. So close he could kiss him. Instinctively, Samson reached his hand over and ran his hand through Newt's long blond hair.

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doing my best to bring you all consistent updates! however unfortunately I can't promise anything bc I'll be going back to uni next week :(

thank you for reading!

love always,
chloe