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SAMSON QUICKLY GOT CHANGED AND HEADED OUT TO THE BOX. The Gladers all took their time getting there. Everyone was still so shaken up by Nick's death and no one had gone near the Box since last month, besides the Sloppers who had to pick up the weekly supplies.
He spotted Alby and Newt at the front of the crowd. Alby was nervous and everyone knew it. It would be Alby who would have to help the Greenie out and get him situated, which used to be Nick's job. Even with Newt as his Second-in-Command to help him, Alby still struggled when it came to things like keeping track of the Gladers and dealing with trouble.
Newt and Samson had barely spoken in the month since Nick had died. Nothing had happened between them, things had just simply become so busy. Samson was constantly distracted with work in the Kitchen, and someone was constantly tugging at Newt's sleeve asking for him, so they didn't talk much. Newt sat with Alby during most meals with the other Keepers, and Samson sat with Leo and Clark. He couldn't help but wonder if Newt missed sitting with him, or if he'd only done it because Samson had been the lonely little Greenie. A sudden resentment for Newt awoke inside Samson. Newt of all people didn't deserve that kind of treatment, however, in the moment, Samson didn't care. But really, could he blame Newt? Sitting at the Keepers table was probably much nicer, anyway.
All of the Gladers eventually made it over to the Box. They all remained quiet and stoic, hovering over the Newbie. Memories from the month before were still fresh in Samson's mind. He'd never be able to forget Nick's cries for help, or the look on Alby's face when he pulled the rope back up with nobody attached to it. Although Samson quickly shook the thoughts away as best as he could, he could feel himself tense up as Newt and Alby both took a side and opened the Box up. The Gladers held their breath and each of them stepped forward to see who the new Greenie was.
The first thing Samson noticed was the smell.
He peered down into the Box and let out a loud gasp at the sight. Samson blinked twice, shaking his head furiously. His eyes were deceiving him, he was sure of it. Nick was haunting him. It couldn't be him. Samson glanced up at the other boys, their expressions all just as horrified as his. It was him.
Nick was laying inside the box, his legs cut clean off from the rest of his body. His head looked like it'd been bashed in, his face brutally mutilated, but it was him. There was so much blood. Most of it had dried up, but it covered every corner and crevice of the Box. And that awful smell of rotting flesh that had been trapped inside the Box for a whole month was now being let out into the Glade, triggering everyone's gag reflexes.
The Greenie was in the corner, shaking, crying and screaming. Gally jumped down into the Box and grabbed him. Samson didn't want to look at him. He couldn't even begin to imagine what he was thinking, being trapped inside that Box for who knows how long with a corpse. Samson tuned the screaming and crying out, his eyes trailing back to Nick. His hands clenched up into fists and he dug his fingernails deep into his skin to keep himself from crying.
