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EVERYONE TOOK THE DAY OFF. Samson sat with Gally and the Greenie in the Homestead and watched the Greenie pick at the food he'd been given with his fork. None of them had dared to say anything since they'd sat down, even though there was so much that Samson wanted to say.
He'd only known Nick for a month. He didn't understand why he was taking his death so hard, harder than most of the Gladers it seemed, if he'd only known him for a month. Despite how little time they had together, it seemed that out of all of the Gladers, it was Nick who had left the greatest impact on his heart. The way he made circumstances seem better than they were. The way he'd always tried to make him feel included and happy. Nick had been his friend, one of his only friends, one of his first friends in the Glade. And now he was gone.
He'd been the perfect leader for the Gladers. He was a good role model. He gave them the right amount of hope and respect--and everyone respected him. He didn't deserve to die.
Samson suddenly slammed his fists against the table in front of him. The Greenie's plate shook and he dropped his fork, blinking back at Samson fearfully.
"Sam," Gally began, lifting his head toward him.
"Don't," Samson shot back through gritted teeth, his fists shaking so hard he expected them to crack open. He wanted to unleash the anger that coursed through his veins. He wanted to hit something, or someone. But Samson held back, swallowing the lump in his throat. He avoided Gally's gaze as he watched him like a hawk, seemingly waiting for his next move.
He knew that Gally was only doing it because he didn't want Samson to scare the Greenie anymore than he already had. But the truth was, Samson was afraid too. Nick hadn't just slipped and fallen to his death. He'd heard noises, strange whirring and slicing sounds. Something or someone had murdered Nick. Samson suddenly remembered the creatures Gally had told him about; the monsters that lived in the Maze. Grievers, they were called. Perhaps they lived down in the Box hole, too. This only made him more afraid, and with Nick gone and another possible way out crossed off the list, he was beginning to lose hope. He felt more lost and afraid than ever, just like he had on his first day.
Remembering his first day reminded him of the Greenie again. Samson couldn't even imagine what he was going through, having to watch someone die in his first few minutes in the Glade.
Samson shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He lifted his head to look at the Greenie, who was looking solemnly out of the window above the table.
"What's your name?" Samson asked, adjusting his posture in the hopes that he appeared more approachable.
The Greenie jumped, turning his attention towards Samson. He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes low. "Clark," he answered, his voice raspy from all the crying he had clearly been doing.
Samson leaned forward against the table and sighed. "Clark. My name's Sam. I was the Greenie before you. I know...I know what you're going through. We all do, really." he said, catching Gally's eyes for a moment. Giving Clark the speech didn't seem right. It was supposed to be Nick's job. Nonetheless, he continued. "This is the Glade. All of us came up in that Box, none of us have our memories, and we're all stuck here, just like you. Together. Which means, we need to trust each other."
Samson stiffened up. He put his hand forward for Clark to shake. "I'll be your first friend, okay? You can trust me." Clark hesitated at first, but eventually took Samson's hand. He used his free hand to wipe his tears away and managed a small smile. Despite everything, Samson was proud of himself and he had a feeling deep down that Nick would've been proud of him, too.
Gally sucked in a deep breath. "Clark, about what happened this morning..."
"I know what happened," Clark said, lowering his head and swallowing hard. "That guy died for you guys." he pressed his lips together and shook his head. "And from what I picked up, he was your leader. So now we're really done for. We're stuck here."
Gally and Samson exchanged a worried glance. For the most part, Clark was right.
Samson stepped in again. He couldn't sit in the Cookhouse dwelling any longer. "Finish what you're eating and I'll show you around. You can learn what we do around here. You can learn what we're doing to try to get out of here,"
He knew Gally wanted to talk to him about what had happened, he could see him trying to catch his eye, but Samson averted his gaze, afraid he'd do something irrational if Gally were to try and console him. He didn't want to get angry with Gally. considering he was one of his only friends.
Once Clark was finished eating, Samson took him back out to the Glade. Besides Alby and Newt talking to the Runners over by the Map Room, it was a ghost town. Samson watched Alby intently for a moment. He rubbed a hand down his face as he spoke to the Runners, who Samson realized hadn't been there when Nick was killed. With Nick gone, Alby would take charge of the Glade. Not only had he lost his leader, he'd lost his best friend.
Samson snapped himself back to reality. "Okay, Clark. Where do you wanna start?" he asked. Clark shrugged in response, scanning the Glade until he finally pointed to the Maze walls. Samson chuckled. Of course he wanted to start there.
"That is the Maze. I'm gonna be honest, I don't know much about it. All I know is that it's probably our only way out of here. Those guys over there," Samson spun around and pointed to the Map Room and the Runners. "They run the Maze every day looking for a way out."
"How long have you guys been here?"
"I've been here a month. But some of these guys have been here for two years."
"The Maze can't be that hard!" Clark scoffed.
Samson rolled his eyes. "The Maze is really dangerous. There are monsters that live out there. And it changes its pattern every night."
Clark frowned at this, turning back towards the tall walls. Samson exhaled and sat down on the log behind him.
"Two years..." Clark muttered, shaking his head.
Samson looked up at him, trying a smile. Every time he'd smiled at the Greenie, he'd gotten nothing in return. Clark had no hope. But after witnessing Nick's death, Samson couldn't really blame him. If the first thing he'd seen when he'd come up into the Glade had been something like that, he'd definitely have lost it.
"Samson!"
Clark and Samson turned towards the voice. It was Newt. Samson watched Alby go into the Cookhouse behind him. The Runners were no longer circled around the Map Room, either.
Newt was smiling, and it seemed genuine which to Samson seemed odd. He figured Newt of all people wouldn't be smiling after losing Nick. He and Alby were close with him. They were his best friends. It was no wonder Newt was always at the Gatherings, even though he wasn't a Keeper. He was invited to them because Nick and Alby trusted him. The three of them had been so close. Samson couldn't help but wonder if he was merely hiding how he truly felt. As Newt came closer to him, Samson could see the hurt in his eyes as clear as day, and it broke his heart. But Newt covered it with that smile. He was good at that.
"What're you guys doing?" Newt asked, eyeing Clark with a cocked eyebrow.
"He was giving me the tour of this place," Clark answered before Samson could, which surprised him but he nodded nonetheless.
Newt's eyes travelled back to Samson and his smile grew. "Thanks, Sammy. That's one less thing Alby's gotta do," he scoffed, looking over his shoulder at the Cookhouse.
Samson sighed, taking a step toward Newt. "What happens now?" both of their smiles slipped away and Newt scrunched up his face, shaking his head.
"Well, Alby's taking over I guess. He's holding a Gathering tomorrow," Newt paused and moved his hand up to scratch the back of the neck. "Nick was always the one who said we needed to keep things moving no matter what. He wouldn't want us to mope 'round all day grievin' him. He was a good guy, wanted the best for everyone."
Samson nodded, looking over at Clark who seemed to be lost in a trance. The three of them stood in silence for a moment before Newt spoke up again.
"I'll take the Greenie off of your hands if you want. I'm sure Frypan could use some help. Or if you wanna go and rest, I won't tell anyone where you've gone," Newt stepped forward and patted Clark's shoulder.
Newt and Clark both looked up at him, waiting for a response. After a second to ponder what he wanted to do, Samson decided it wouldn't be a good idea for him to try and rest. He didn't want to be alone. Besides, it wouldn't have been fair. He sucked in a deep breath and turned to the two boys.
"I'm gonna go to the Cookhouse. Thanks, Newt," his words lingered in the air for a moment and the two of them locked eyes again. Samson broke away first, clearing his throat.
"I'll see you guys later," he took off towards the Cookhouse without another word, his heart skipping a beat.
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author's note!
was feeling nostalgic and logged back into wattpad...for some reason I thought I uploaded the entire first book on here and so I apologize for leaving you guys hanging like that!! will slowly but surely get the rest of the chapters back up for you guys to enjoy :)
thanks for reading, even after all these years.
love always,
chloe