The last thing Clarke saw was the little boy's look of fear before the impact knocked her out.
It was the pure chaos that woke her up. The ringing in her ears was slowly fading, but there was a pain in her head that she couldn't ignore. She tried to sit up, but only succeeded in falling back down onto the- dirt? Sand? She couldn't be sure what she was on top of, but that didn't matter. People around her were obviously hurt and they needed her help. She took a few deep breaths to calm the pain and steeled herself to sit up slowly. She winced as she opened her eyes, the bright sunlight blinding. After blinking a few times, she was able to focus on a few things nearby. The thing that caught her attention wasn't the burning wreckage of the plane in the water, it was the little boy laying in the sand next to her. He was breathing quickly and from the looks of it, the gash in his side was pretty bad, but it could just be from the big bloodstain on his shirt. Clarke tried to scoot herself over to him, but a sharp pain in her own side made her gasp. She looked down and saw that she too had a bit of shrapnel in her side. But she could deal with herself later. She managed to painfully drag herself to the boy and press her fingers to his neck to check his pulse. It was there, but the beats were irregular. Clarke cursed and looked around for anything she could use to put pressure on the wound. She and the boy had landed near the tree line on a beach and the rest of the survivors were still scrambling around in confusion and terror or lay injured themselves. Clarke would just have to make do. She slid her business coat off and wadded it up to lightly push it onto the wound. The boy gasped and his eyes flittered slightly. Clarke looked up to his face and reached up to smooth his hair back.
"Shh, shh, you're going to be fine. I'm just gonna lift your shirt up to see what's wrong okay?" She whispered to him soothingly. The boy nodded weakly and Clarke lifted the jacket and the shirt to see the damage. She almost laughed with relief. It really wasn't as bad as she thought. The cut was about 4 inches long, but it had only scraped the first two layers of skin off, which was the source of the blood. She smiled at the boy. "Hey, guess what? It's just a little scrape." He stared at her in pain and said,
"it hurts really bad." Clarke nodded.
"I know, sweetie. I'll tell you what, you like Hawkeye right?" She asked, remembering the comic the boy had been reading on the plane. He nodded. "Do you think Clint Barton would like a wimpy little scrape like this stop him? Nah, he'd have to have his whole arm cut off before he'd stop fighting, right?" The boy smiled slightly and nodded again. He reached for Clarke's hand and she grabbed it, helping him slowly to a sitting position. He grunted with pain, but he managed a smile, then his look turned to alarm. He pointed at Clarke's side, where the red stain was still getting bigger. She tried to laugh it off, but as she attempted to stand, she almost lost her balance. Luckily, someone was there to catch her.
"Woah, Princess, you okay?" A deep voice growled in her ear. She brushed the man's arms off and spun to glare at the newcomer. The man was smirking at her, managing to look like a supermodel even though his face was covered in a mixture of blood and sand.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Are there any major injuries that need tended to?" She asked, immediately going back into doctor mode.
"Yes, but there's no one qualified to treat them so there's no chance of them surviving. We might as well not waste the resources we have." The man said. Clarke started walking. "Woah, where are you going? That cut looks pretty bad. Maybe you should sit down." The man grabbed her arm again, but Clarke pulled it out of his grip.
"I happen to be a doctor, or at least I was about to be a doctor. I can handle this. Where's the worst one?" She asked, rolling up her sleeves. The man raised an eyebrow, then pointed in the direction of some wreckage on the beach. Clarke took off in that direction and heard the man following close behind. She reached the wreckage and noticed a girl with long brown hair leaning over someone who was covered in blood. The girl looked up at their approach and the look on her face was brave, but Clarke could see the fear and disgust in her eyes.
"I don't know what to do- I- he's dying- I- I"
"O, it's fine. Just move away and let the doctor do her thing." The man said, reaching down to touch the girls shoulder. She stood up shakily and went to wrap her arms around the man's waist. Clarke noticed the resemblance and assumed they were siblings, but she couldn't focus on that. She turned her attention to man on the ground. She quickly assessed that his femur was completely snapped and one of his broken ribs had punctured his lung. She felt for the mans pulse, and barely found it, his heart trying to keep what little blood was left in his system. She leaned over his face and checked his eyes for any sign of consciousness. The guy was out cold. Clarke thanked the heavens, seeing as she would need to set his leg, which would end up hurting like hell.
"Get me 2 planks of wood that are about the length of his leg. And I'm gonna need someone to hold him down in case he wakes up." The man quickly barked the orders to one of the people who were anxiously watching- which Clarke was annoyed with, because they should be gathering supplies from the wreckage before it was all damaged- and two of the people raced off in search of the wood. The man then came to Clarke's side and knelt there.
"What do you need me to do, Princess?" He asked. Clarke had to fight back the snark and focus on the task at hand.
"I need to clear the fluid from his lungs. Do you have a pen, or something sharp like that?" She asked, sliding the injured guy's jacket off of him and opening his shirt. The man helping her patted all of his pockets and came up empty. Another person handed him a chopstick from the flight and Clarke took it. "Hold him down." She demanded, and readied the stick above his clavicle. She counted to three and plunged it into him. He gasped and started coughing violently, which was a good sign. She hoped he'd pass out again before she set his leg. The guy flailed his arms and tried to sit up, but Clarke gently pushed him back down. Just then, the two people came back and handed her the planks. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You have a broken leg, and I'm gonna need to set it. Someone come here and talk to him while I get ready!" She shouted at the group.
"And everyone else clear out! Gather supplies, food, firewood, tarps; anything that could be remotely useful- get it! Go!" The man ordered. The people backed away at his tone and knew he meant business. They all scattered except for the guy's sister who came and knelt by the man's head.
"Hi. I'm Octavia. As you can tell, this will be your doctor for this procedure and the jackass next to her is my brother, Bellamy. Don't worry about him, though. He's only a jackass when he's attempting to be nice. Which is never. He's so overprotective of me. I mean like, what kind of older brother has to interview any guy I like to see if they're exactly 100% up to his standards? It's messed up. But I guess that one time my boyfriend ended up being a murderer was a good call on his part," the girl looked up at Clarke who have her the continue signal while Clarke moved to the other side of the guy and prepped her hands. She locked eyes with the other man- Bellamy- and he nodded. Octavia kept rambling on about her past boyfriends and her life back at home and Clarke counted to three again. The man screamed and, like Clarke had suspected he would, blacked out from the pain. Clarke reached for a plank and held it against his leg.
"I need something to bind it with." She said, looking up. Bellamy whistled to someone gathering pieces of the seats nearby.
"Bring us some of those scraps!" He ordered. The guy came over and handed them to Bellamy, who started ripping them into inch wide strips and handing them to Clarke. Within three minutes, the man had a nice splint around his hopefully healing leg. Clarke stood up and looked around.
"Where are the other bad ones?" Bellamy shook his head.
"Dead or minor scrapes. I had people sit and talk with them until they were gone." He said softly. Clarke sighed and looked back down at the man. Octavia was expectantly looking at her brother.
"Octavia, is it?" Clarke asked. The girl nodded.
"Would you mind sitting here until he wakes up?" She asked.
"Not at all." Octavia said, and made herself comfortable in the sand. Clarke started walking, she didn't know where, but she needed to think.
"Woah there, Princess. Now that everyone else is taken care of, maybe you should take a look at yourself. I'm no doctor, but that looks like a little too much blood for it to be healthy." Bellamy said, catching her arm with a stronger grip.
"I'm fine. We need to get shelter built and food found. Make sure everyone is working on something. No one is lazy here until we are safe." She tried to take a step, but her feet fell out from under her.
"You're obviously not fine." Bellamy said, before picking her legs up and carrying her to the shade. "Check that out. I would, but I don't know what to look for." Clarke sighed, and looked down at the sticky mess on her shirt. She slowly lifted it up and winced as she saw the damage underneath. The cut wasn't deep, same as the boy, but her flesh was sliced and ragged, some hanging off in tatters. She quickly checked for any shrapnel that was still inside the wound, but found none. She sighed in relief. Bellamy looked away, then looked back at her.
"Didn't think you'd be a queasy person." Clarke said. "Can you rip a portion of this off?" She handed him her jacket and he ripped a 2 inch wide strip off of the bottom of it. She pressed it against her side, and then wound it around her waist, making sure the strips of skin that were hanging off got pushed back into the right place. She tied it in place and then sat back, already exhausted.
"You gonna be okay?" Bellamy asked, raising an eyebrow. Clarke nodded and closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, Bellamy was staring at her.
"What?" She asked, worried.
"Nothing. I just realized I don't know your name." He smiled. Clarke laughed once.
"That's very true." She held out her hand and Bellamy took it. "I'm Clarke Griffin." They shook hands.
"Bellamy Blake. My sister, Octavia is the one that helped us with the guy with the broken leg." Clarke nodded.
"I can see the resemblance. It's nice to meet you both." Bellamy smiled and Clarke got to her feet.
"We need to find water. Water is the priority right now. How many people do you think survived?" She asked, reaching down to help him up.
"Maybe 50. I'm not sure though I haven't down a head count yet. We should call everyone together; see what people have scavenged from the wreckage."