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SAMSON WOKE EARLIER THAN USUAL THE NEXT MORNING. Even earlier than the Runners, but not as early as Alby and Thomas. As he rose from his cot, he spotted them by the Maze walls. Alby handed Thomas a knife and he began to carve his name into the concrete. Samson watched them intently from afar. None of the Gladers had ever bothered to bring him to the Maze to carve his name, and for some reason, this upset him more than it should have.
He decided to take matters into his own hands. As soon as Alby and Thomas were finished and out of sight, Samson headed towards the walls, grabbing the pocket knife they'd left behind up from off of the ground. Taking a deep breath, Samson examined all of the names above him, running his hand over the carvings. Samson's hand stopped on Nick's name. His fingers brushed the cross over his name and Samson couldn't help but wonder who had been the one to chisel that line in. There were so many others. So many that Samson had never met or even heard of. George, Justin, Michael, Stephen. Samson shook his head. Too many lives had been lost to the Maze. It needed to end.
Samson engraved his name in the empty space next to Nick's. In order for it to be legible, he had to take his time with each letter. But once he was finished and satisfied, Samson stepped back with his hands on his hips, smiling triumphantly. The Runners began to pass him by, jogging out from the Map Room and into the Maze. Samson searched for Minho in the group of boys and ran to him.
"Hey, Minho," he whispered breathlessly. Minho stepped away from the other Runners wearing an irritated expression. "Listen, we need to speed things up. I'm ready."
Minho shook his head, leaning in closer to him so his friends couldn't overhear their conversation. "No. You're not. You don't know the first thing about the Maze-"
"That doesn't matter. I'm only getting stung anyway,"
Minho rolled his eyes. "You make it sound like it's not a painful and traumatizing experience. I haven't told any of the other Runners, and I just need more time."
"We don't have time!" Samson said through gritted teeth. "The new Greenie, didn't you hear him last night? His name is Thomas. Thomas is in the Glade. I don't know why, but I do know that him being sent up here was not part of this plan. We might be screwed, unless Teresa can help us."
Minho blinked back at Samson and straightened his posture. "I don't even know what you're talking about anymore."
Before either of them could say anything else, one of the Runners called Minho back over. He sighed and ran back to his friends and out into the Maze. Samson watched them go, crossing his arms over his chest angrily. He wasn't sure how much longer they'd be able to wait. With every day that they wasted, their escape seemed farther and farther away.
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Samson was up so early that not even Frypan was in the Kitchen when he arrived for work, which was strange. He decided to get a head start on the menu for the day, to make things easier for the Head Cook. He washed and cut the fruit for breakfast, and buttered so many pieces of bread that callouses began to build upon his hands. Frypan and Brandon arrived together just as he finished up, laughing at something. The three Cooks all said their good mornings and got to work.
