twenty one

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     HE'S YOUNGER. Strapped down to a chair and dressed in all white from head to toe. His hair is slicked back with gel, but his face is covered in sweat and his cheeks are hot. With the exception of Samson, the room seemed empty. It was dark and eerily quiet. The silence echoed around him, driving him crazy. Samson struggled against the restraints, his wrists turning a bright pink colour. The binds burned his skin, screwing his eyes to tears. That familiar feeling of blind rage enveloped Samson. He pulled at the binds again, letting out a blood-curdling scream.

     "Let me out of here!" he roared, throwing himself forward in the chair.

     From the other side of the room, tendrils of fog slid along the floor towards him. Samson's head shot up towards the door. A loud clicking noise rang through the room. He cocked his head at the sound, watching the empty space closely. Slowly, the mist began to disappear, revealing a large metal container. Samson gulped, sitting up in the chair. The container hissed and then split into two. Two long legs stepped out from the box, creeping out onto the floor. Its metal claws scraped the ground beneath it. Samson winced at the sound, turning away from the container.

     He didn't know what it was. He just knew it was a monster, something he associated fear with. And as the creature poured out of its box, one leg after the other, Samson recognized the thing. It was a Griever. The one that stood in front of him was much smaller than the one who had stung him, like it was a beta or prototype, but it was just as terrifying nevertheless. Its spider-like arms and its wet, glistening complexion stayed standing over him for a moment before it began to slide itself along the ground towards him. It crept up to the chair and Samson held his breath. He'd never been so scared before. Long, metal spikes flew out of the Griever's sides, one stopping just centimetres from Samson's face. But Samson remained paralyzed, with fear and determination, praying it would leave him be. He shut his eyes tightly, a single tear falling onto his cheek.

     But then, the Griever's spikes receded and it shrunk away, back into the hole it had come from. Slowly, Samson forced himself to open his eyes. He sighed out of relief, tears pooling out of his eyes. His shoulders relaxed against the chair. Samson did not fight against his restraints or cry for help. He stared back at the empty walls, taking deep breaths. His fingernails dug into the palms of his hands as he tried to keep himself calm. He wanted to show them that he was strong enough for them. He was in control.

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     The room faded out into darkness, the memory turning upside down, and then he was running down a long hallway behind Thomas. He was older now, his muscle peeking through his thin grey shirt, his hair still slicked back but longer and much more mature-looking. Teresa ran next to him, glancing behind her to make sure nobody had followed them. Thomas suddenly stopped at a door on the left side of the hall and Samson nearly crashed into him. He pushed the door open and it hissed in response. The three of them quickly stepped inside and shut the door carefully behind them. The room was small and dark. Computer screens lined the walls and one long table stood in the middle of the room, littered with folders and sheets of paper.

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     Samson's eyes flickered between each of the screens as if he was searching for one in particular. They landed on one down in the right-hand corner. There were dozens of young boys all sitting around tables out in the night sky, eating and laughing together. Samson stepped closer to the screen, his hand hovering the keyboard beneath it. He recognized them. They were his friends. His friends that had been missing from the compound for almost a year.

     One of them was Minho, who was sitting next to Siggy and Newt. Samson's mouth hung agape as he watched. Across the table from Minho were Gally and Alby, who were clinking their cups together. Samson turned back to Thomas and Teresa.

     "I don't understand," he started, his eyes shifting back and forth between Thomas and the screen in front of him. "Where are they? Are they...Are they safe?"

     Thomas shook his head. "No."

     Samson straightened himself up, blinking back at Thomas in fear. Teresa rested her hand on the small of his back.

"They're in the Maze, Sam. That's where they've been all this time."

     He took a moment to process this, staring down at the floor beneath him. Every time he'd asked about his friends over the last eight months, they'd told him the same thing. They're safe. Don't worry about them. You'll see them again. He'd known that something had happened to them, and he should have suspected sooner that they'd been sent into the Maze. Had he known, he would have tried to stop it.

     "Is there anything we can do?" he asked, wiping the tears that had begun to brim around his eyes away. Samson wasn't sure if he was relieved that his friends were alive or afraid because they weren't safe up in the Maze. Perhaps a mix of both.

     "Yes. We're going to help them escape. But we need your help. It all starts with you."

     But Thomas and Teresa faded away before he could reply, and Samson was back in the same empty room as before. But this was different. He was still restrained, handcuffed to the metal table he sat at, but there was no Griever waiting for him in the darkness. Instead, the door in front of him clicked open and a man in white stepped through, sneering back at Samson.

     The name tag on his coat read A.D JANSON. Samson straightened his posture at the sight of him, returning the leering smile. Janson sat down across from Samson, slamming a file down in front of him.

     "We know you were close with the subjects we sent up into the Maze. Doctor Paige apologizes for not telling you the truth about where they went. We did it to keep you safe." Janson snarled.

     Samson simply nodded, folding his hands together tightly into a fist.

     "We are also aware that Thomas and Teresa were the ones who showed you the Maze. It is obvious that you were not able to handle the situation, after the incident in the lab earlier today. Which is why Doctor Paige and the rest of the Maze Trials directors have decided we're going to send you up. Thomas and Teresa have shown you too much and we can't risk having you here, or out in the city, for that matter, jeopardizing our Trials."

     Samson tilted his head playfully at the man. He hated him. "Jeopardizing the Trials? Could you elaborate on that?"

     Janson smiled, showing his crooked, yellow teeth. Samson held back a grimace.

     "Gladly." he flipped through the file he'd brought, stopping after a few pages. "Chancellor Anderson reported that you threatened not only his life, but the lives of Thomas, Teresa, and anyone else involved in the Maze Trials. You said you would return with an army and kill us all to stop the Trials. This was after you destroyed one of our main laboratories. These are very serious threats, Samson."

CLARITY, (newt.)Where stories live. Discover now