Author's Note: Hello & thank you for reading. Wanted to write a 100 fic since I watched it but I couldn't think of a moody enough plot...then I had a dream. Literally (Chris Traeger) I woke up and thought huh...I dreamed about Christen Press and wow my subconscious is...something. So I tweaked the dream and after 8 hours of writing-2 chapters. I knew it would be difficult to write because I don't relate to the character much like I do with my other fics and I can't throw in pop culture references for my own amusement/plot development. The 100 is very bare, like camping (which I don't care for.) Thanks Trooper for saying its great I plan out my fics and put conscious effort/care about them. That was sweet. I have standards. Also I have 3 other stories in my head I want done this month but Jessica Jones is a wonderful distraction. This was a lot of fun to write after writing fluff & it was meant to be a 1 shot but is a multi chapter because there is much to be said for chaos & humanity. Also because my friend said she hated zombies & I said they represent people becoming monsters, how drugs alter a person, that someone can become so sick they're a shell of who they used to be & she said nothing scares people more than random, unexplained violence.
This is how the world ends. Not with a BANG...but with a whimper. Clarke would replay that on a loop in her head when she looked out at the barren terrain. She had read it somewhere in what felt like a lifetime ago. Well maybe the first time the world ended that's how it played out. It was mostly accurate. There was whimpering. A lot of sorrow and stillness. Then came the groans and moaning. Sounds. Noises that shouldn't have come from humans.
The doctor side of her thought of certain words liked doomed, epidemic, virus, and death. The last was such a heavy word that she didn't leave her bunker for two days. The artist, hopeful side of her thought she was lucky enough to have come across a safe haven in the form of a fall out shelter. It had taken her all of one day to claim it as her own and with no one to fight or compete with she considered it amazing she had come across it. That it hadn't been discovered before was a miracle. If Clarke believed in miracles. It was too easy to imagine Monty saying-its highly improbable anyone would stumble into this place and that it came with provisions. She could also imagine Bellamy looking for weapons with an intensity she could admire but also be weary of. And she could picture Octavia noting the place was stocked but be drawn to the massive bookshelf that covered an entire wall, looking on with a rare smile, and taking I that there was so much to learn and help them after she got over the hatred of being confined again. But her friends were days away. If they were alive. So Monty would say it was statistically improbable and Clarke would have said yeah, but we're here and its amazing. Her optimism existed before the second end of the world. It was easy to get into moods and become reclusive for days. She also felt forced to be an anti-social pessimist.
There wasn't anyone to feel responsible for. No one to fight against, no one to communicate with. As she stood outside her bunker and scanned the forest she couldn't help but question if she had gone deaf. It was too quiet. Unbelievably quiet. It had been weeks since the gas and infections. She wondered with annoyance what it was about this world that wouldn't learn from its mistakes. Mount Weather had taught her more about gas than she wanted to know and tried desperately to block out.
Being alone, forced to be solitary allowed her to read books that were on the massive wall. She read the old books with care, gently turned the pages and felt so ambivalent that she wanted to scream but didn't dare to avoid attracting attention from the carriers. She couldn't think of another word for them. Corpses seemed too blunt and disrespectful. But it was best to avoid them, she rationalized for the sake of her physical well-being but also her psyche. Her list of things she wanted to block out was quickly becoming overwhelmingly long. She questioned if her teachings and lectures on the arc about the Hippocratic oath was more so nostalgic sentimentality than anything else because she was finding it unrealistic, idealistic and antiquated. Or maybe they were never meant to come back to the earth. Maybe they should have never descended and become the sky people. Maybe the carriers were mutations the Mountain Men had formed from their experiments. Biological mutations with adverse effects . Maybe they were always roaming since the first end and finally reached here. Maybe they mutated like some of the wildlife had from toxins. Maybe, maybe, maybe with no answers. Clarke considered it to the point she worked up a headache and decided it didn't matter why. It had created hell.
Like shooting Jasper in the head, who looked at her through an opaque eye and groaned like blood was in his lungs. She wished it were different before she slowly raised her gun, matching his jerky, slow movements. She wished she didn't have to kill Finn. She wished the phrase mercy killing actually softened the blow and weight of it. She wished for a lot of things, but never on stars. She knew all too well they didn't hold any magic. She of the sky people knew wishing on stars was a child's game.
When she pulled the trigger to absolutely obliterate Jasper's life or non-life and any remaining ambition that made the carriers keep going she thought of a line from a book she had finished just a few days ago-I am haunted by humans. She repeated that phrase and felt it as she walked towards the waterfall to take what passed for a shower. A week later she still felt dirty. She had wandered within a two mile radius the first couple days and became bolder, venturing five miles to forage certain things she knew were safe and look for life.
Eventually she gave in and used the vitamins that were surprisingly abundant and stored in a cool, dry, dark place. Some still had their strange plastic sealing that Clarke had never seen before, but she used them sparingly-only when she woke with bruises; a tell of deficiency and unrested sleep. It helped her physically. Emotionally she had a love/hate relationship with the waterfall. More than the vitamins she appreciated being clean and for the few moments she felt serene. Even as she held a knife in her hand. She contemplated jumping. Letting the force of the water hold her down. She could see it happening, picture it with ease, but she had already fallen once and from a greater height to be welcomed into a world she couldn't truly have prepared for, one that defied expectations. Leaving this world likely wouldn't meet her expectations as well. So she decided to keep living. It was a conscious effort and sometimes it was really fucking draining she would think when she woke, but if not for the sake of hope then the curiosity that tomorrow might be better.
With a long, deep breath she reminded herself of the fact she was alive while many others were not. In mid thought she stepped on something that sounded hollow. With a frown she turned her head and surveyed if anyone was around to hear. Then she stepped harder, wondering for a second if it was a trick of her sense and if she was going insane. But the sound was solid of wood meeting metal. A dull thud that seemed to echo her heartbeat. She didn't realize she had bent down and brushed the leaves and foliage away until she was staring at a door.
Author's Note: This is how the world ends quote is by T.S. Eliot. "anti-social pessimist" in a phrase in a song that I like but wish was done by Adele, when in doubt for titles use Florence + the machine lyrics is my motto! I am haunted by humans is from The Book Thief. (That book will wreck you in the best way.) Also thanks Kaylan for saying this is disturbing and Oh My God as I explained the plot details and you're still willing to read it after I've said its 3X worse and brutal than my Glee zombie fic.