[the maze runner]
i've been lost. but as i find him again, it feels like
such a relief. a fresh breath of air. peace, at last.
[newt x male!oc]
cover art by the beautifully talented @obviousoph
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SAMSON WASN'T INVITED TO THE GATHERING. And that would've made sense, considering he wasn't a Keeper. But, as he watched Thomas run into the Homestead behind the rest of the Keepers, he couldn't help but wonder if Newt was keeping him in the dark on purpose. He was their leader now, and he made the rules. Samson scoffed at this. He believed Newt's decision to keep him away was childish of him. Samson wanted to get out of the Maze just as much as the next person. And besides Thomas, he was the only one who understood the codes.
Deep down, Samson wished he could talk to him, try and apologize, but Newt was making it hard. Since that morning in the Deadheads, he'd kept his distance. Samson knew it was his fault, he understood now that Newt was only trying to protect him. He had also begun to realize that he had serious anger management problems, so serious that it seemed not even Newt could get through to him anymore. He had ruined everything between them, and had no idea how to fix things.
Thomas found Samson right after the Gathering had finished and explained the premise of the meeting to him and Teresa. The plan was that they were all going into the Maze as soon as possible. They'd fight their way down into the Griever Hole, and it'd be Thomas and Samson's job to punch in the codes. The Keepers decided that for the next hour, everyone would pack up what they needed and by midnight, they'd be gone.
Samson couldn't really believe it was all real and happening. They were finally leaving the Glade. He'd only been in the Glade for four months, but because he had no memory of his life before the Maze, those four months had dragged on for what felt like years. For this reason, he could only imagine how excited the rest of the boys, especially those who had been there since the start, were. His mind wandered back to Newt. His eyes followed him as he came out of the Homestead, wearing a solemn expression, and his heart sank.
The Maze doors were still not closed, which meant that the Grievers would return that night. Thomas explained that they would slip away just as the Grievers arrived in the Glade to attack. There were a fair amount of boys, including Leo, who wanted to stay behind. They all sat in the grass by the Deadheads, looking defeated.
When Thomas left to go help the others pack things up, his watch read 11:30. Samson decided that he wanted to try and talk to Leo. It couldn't hurt to try and get through to him one more time. Besides, Samson didn't have much to pack. Other than the clothes on his back, he had nothing to his name.
Before he went after his friend, Samson snuck into the woods behind the Glade and headed for the Map Room, praying that all of the Runners were long gone. He slipped inside the stone walls and carefully shut the iron door behind him so that it didn't make a sound. He quickly pulled a backpack from off the hooks on the wall and shoved a water canister inside of it. He opened up the wooden trunk where all of the other running supplies were kept, and found that there were still dozens of digital watches and shoes stored away inside. Samson nabbed one of the watches and shut the trunk. He figured it didn't matter anymore that he wasn't officially a Runner; the Glade had fallen apart, which meant that the watches were up for grabs. He strapped it to his wrist and turned it on. The screen read 11:50. There was no time to find Leo and Clark. It was time to go. Samson pulled his backpack up onto his shoulders and left the Map Room without looking back.
Samson was more than ready to leave the Glade. He was ready to begin a new life, a better life, for himself and for all of his friends. He wondered if they'd be able to get their memories back somehow. As he made his way over to the Maze doors, Samson wasn't sure if that was what he wanted. From what he remembered, his past life hadn't been great. For years, he'd been brainwashed by the Creators, by WICKED. He'd helped them throw his friends into the Maze, until the day he realized what was really happening and ended up in there with them. Samson was afraid that he would return to his old ways if his memories were restored. He pondered on the topic and realized that he didn't want his memories back. He'd spent three months trying to find himself again, but now, it just didn't seem right. He had made a life for himself with the Gladers, and there was nothing holding him to his past life. No family or friends he'd left behind. The Gladers were all he had now, and when he thought of his future, his new life, his better life, he saw it with them.
Thomas and the others stood by the Doors, some of them pacing back and forth anxiously. Samson started in a light jog towards the Gladers. Leo stood next to Newt and Frypan with his hands in his pockets. He shook Frypan's hand and then the Cook pulled him into a hug. Samson joined them, standing awkwardly next to Leo and across from Newt.
A darkness engulfed the Glade. From inside the Maze, Samson was sure he saw the familiar silhouette of a Griever. It was prowling nearby, waiting for the right moment to pounce on the Gladers. Samson's eyes widened and he lifted his head to point towards the Maze, but before he could warn anyone, the creature leapt forward into the Glade with a bellowing roar. Everyone spun around to face it, and the few boys who were closest to it grabbed their spears, ready to charge the Griever.
Samson had nothing to defend himself with. His eyes darted around the field, searching for something to use so that he could help. Every single Glader, even the ones who weren't planning on escaping, picked up their weapons and ran for the monster. They cornered it in the field and tried to push it back towards the doors, and the Griever stiffened up. It stood still in the grass. Too still.
"Sam! Leo!" Clark's scream rang through the Glade and when Samson turned back around to face Clark, the Griever suddenly roared back to life and plowed through the Gladers towards his friend.
Time seemed to slow down around Samson. Where his brain told him to run to Clark, to get him out of harm's way, his legs failed him. He stood and watched as Clark cried out for his friends one last time before the Griever grabbed him from behind and pierced him from his back, through his heart. Clark's body slumped down against the Griever's tight grip and the monster crushed him in between his claws and then pitched him into the wreckage of the Homestead.
Samson wanted to scream, but when he tried no sound came out. He forced himself to move forward, reaching down for a spear that had been thrown on the ground amidst all of the chaos. He gripped it so tightly in his hand he felt his bones crack under the pressure. Samson scowled back at the creature. All of that pent-up rage that had consumed him since the day he'd arrived in the Glade was finally going to be put to good use. Hands pulled Samson back toward the Maze walls and he tried to shake them off, telling him he needed to do this. He needed to kill that Griever, even if it was the last thing he'd do. He screamed and kicked and cried as they pulled him away. Samson's knees gave out and he fell to the ground, a wretched sob tearing through his throat.
"Sam!" someone cried next to him, panting heavily in his ear.
Minho grabbed Samson up by his armpits and pulled him back onto his feet. Samson kept his head down and away from the Glade out of shame. He'd promised Clark that he would be okay. He'd failed Clark.
"Sam, we need to go. Clark saved us. He saved us."
Samson shook his head violently. "He has to come with us," he whispered. "We have to help him."
