thirty one

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THE BUS STOPPED IN FRONT OF A MUDDY PARKING LOT THAT SURROUNDED A NONDESCRIPT BUILDING WITH SEVERAL ROWS OF WINDOWS. The men in uniform shuffled all of the Gladers off of the bus and through the front door so quickly, Samson barely had any time to decipher what was going on.

They were led into a huge dormitory with a series of bunk beds lined up along the walls. The room was full of colour. The walls were painted yellow, and the blankets were a bright red colour. Samson was mesmerized by the change of scenery. The Glade had never been as welcoming and vibrant as the room he stood in now. It almost felt too good to be true.

But his friends thought otherwise. They all jumped into a bunk after only a minute of taking it all in. "Well, I've been shucked and gone to heaven!" Minho laughed as he hopped up on the first top bunk, beating Frypan to it. He grinned down at him. "Too slow," he teased.

"Hey," Newt whispered. He rested a hand on Samson's shoulder and he flipped around to face him. In his other hand, Newt had his backpack. Samson had completely forgotten about it on the bus. Not that he'd had anything important inside, just his water canister and some snacks. Still, Newt hadn't forgotten. He'd grabbed it for him. Samson took the backpack from him, smiling brightly.

The other boys all got settled into their own beds. Teresa, Thomas, Newt, and Samson sat on the two sofas in the middle of the room awkwardly. Newt let go of his hand when they'd stepped into the room, and kept a reasonable distance from him when they sat down. It was as if what happened on the bus had never happened, but Samson didn't mind. It had happened, and it had been something shared between just the two of them. Samson could tell Newt was a little embarrassed, and was probably anxious about what the other boys would think. He understood. He didn't exactly want their romance on display for everyone either.

The men in uniform left them with a smaller staff of women who were also dressed in bright colors, all of them smiling and speaking in high-pitched tones. They brought a table into the dorm and passed out pizza. All of the Gladers jumped down from their beds to grab as many pieces as they could. Samson was eager to try some. After eating the same five meals for the last four months, pizza sounded amazing. He couldn't even remember the taste of it from his life before the Maze.

It immediately became his new favorite food. He must've had three or four slices, and he didn't care one bit what anyone thought. Everyone stayed quiet for the most part, but there were plenty of smiles going around the table. Samson felt like he was finally able to breathe. His friends were safe and happy. Well, most of them.

His heart ached for all of the friends he'd lost. It always would. Clark, Gally, Alby, and Nick, all deserved to be at the table trying pizza with their friends. Although he was smiling, he couldn't stop thinking about Clark. Every once in a while, he would glance over at Leo across the table. He knew he was thinking the same thing he was.

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Newt grabbed Samson's hand underneath the table and squeezed it. He turned to him and smiled, really smiled, like he had on the bus. He squeezed back. Newt's hand was clammy and greasy from the pizza, but he didn't care.

When everyone was finished eating and the table was pulled away, Newt remained next to him. They sat back on the sofa, their legs intertwining. For a moment, Samson scanned the room nervously, but none of his friends said anything.

Frypan was the one to break the silence. "I don't know who these guys are, but that was some good pizza."

Everyone smiled and nodded in response. Teresa sighed loudly. "But who are they, really? I mean, we don't know anything about them."

"Well, we know they're no friends of WICKED," Newt replied.

Minho sat up in his bunk. "That's good enough for me. You guys think too much. We're free. Enjoy it." he said.

Two of the staff came back into the dorm a few minutes later, telling the Gladers it was time for bed. Minho mocked the lady who had said it, and muttered something about not wanting to be treated like a baby, but the Gladers were all tired and listened to her nonetheless.

"If you hear your name, follow me, please." the woman said. "Winston. Thomas. Samson. Siggy, and Jack." 

Samson sat up from the sofa. He turned to Newt and then back to the woman.

"Hey, where are you taking them?" Minho questioned.

The woman smiled. "There aren't enough beds in this room. We've got a second room down the hall for the rest of your friends."

Minho shrugged, sinking back down into his bunk.

Samson didn't want to leave the rest of his friends. He didn't want to leave Newt. He'd feel better knowing he was close to him, in a place like this. They had no idea who these people were, and Samson hated to be separated from the rest of the Gladers.

"Come on, you can see your friends again in the morning," she said.

"You'll be okay," Newt whispered. "I'll come and see you in the morning. I'm just down the hall."

Samson nodded. He stood up slowly and started towards the door, grabbing his backpack from off of the floor. The lady reached out to lead him out the door, but Samson jerked away when she tried to put her hand on the small of his back. Samson knew he would need to get used to these people, but for the time being, he was angry with them for splitting up their group. They needed to stick together, now more than ever.

The woman took Samson and the other Gladers down the hall, just as she'd said, to a room almost identical to the one they'd just been in. The woman sighed and clapped her hands together.

"The washroom is just over there, and if you need anything, just buzz on the intercom," she pointed to a device that was stuck on the wall next to the door. It had a little button and a speaker. The boys blinked back at her and she took it as a sign to leave.

Thomas was the first one to speak "So...who wants the top bunk?"

"I'll take a bottom," Samson replied. "I'm just gonna go use the washroom first." he scampered over to the door to the washroom and closed the door quickly behind him.

This washroom was much cleaner than the one in the Glade. There was a shower, a sink, and a mirror. Samson spun around so he could see himself in the mirror and his eyes widened in horror. He looked awful. Dark, puffy circles lined his eyes and his skin was a sickly pale color. A bruise had formed on his jaw from where Minho had punched him just a couple of days before. He found himself wondering how Newt could even stand to look at him in this state.

Samson slowly lifted his shirt to examine his wound from the Griever sting he'd received. The bandage was discolored and torn. He tugged at the ends of it, wincing with every pull. The wound was almost fully healed thanks to the Grief Serum. But a sizable scar had developed across his skin, starting from his waist and running up just below his chest.

Samson pulled his shirt back down and sighed. He was exhausted, and although having a hot shower sounded tempting, he just wanted to sleep. Samson went back out into the bedroom. The lights were already turned out, and the Gladers had all claimed a bunk, leaving a bottom bed for Samson.

He laid down in the bed and threw a blanket over himself, squirming on the mattress. After sleeping on the ground for months and months, this was a drastic change of scenery. It was comfortable but strange.

Samson turned to face the cold wall next to him and hugged himself tightly. The room was full of his friends, but he felt alone again. The Maze Trials had taken so much from him, and Samson wasn't sure he'd ever truly recover, if he'd ever really feel safe anywhere ever again. There were only a handful of people left that he could trust in this world. Samson didn't want to know what life outside the Maze had in store for him. Only one thing was clear; WICKED would pay for what they'd done to him.

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author's note!

and that's it i guess!! hope you all enjoyed this story :)

i'd appreciate it if you guys checked out the acknowledgments in the next part so you can read what's next for me (and for samson) but if you don't want to, that's cool. thanks for reading this story regardless.

peace out!
chloe

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