Hi guys,
Seeing that this is an extra-long weekend for me, I've actually found the time to write the next chapter of this story. And lucky you, there are still two extra-long weekends coming up in May (actually, lucky me :D).
It's time to take this story to its actual storyline.
Enjoy the update!
Chapter 2
The first thing she was aware of was a loud, annoying beeping noise. It dinned somewhere close to her ear, and it made her headache worse. Her throat felt dry and as she moved her arm up her body, it felt like lifting an anvil, the movement clumsy and rusty. As if she hadn't moved it in ages.
The ground beneath her felt soft, softer than anything she could remember having used as a bed the last few nights. It was warm and comfy. Clarke could've laid there forever, enjoying the feeling of peace, even if it was just for a moment.
But the ache in her head pulled her out of the peaceful state and Clarke opened her eyes slowly. Her headache wasn't as painful as she remembered, more like a dulling pain. And she was grateful for that as she opened her eyes, meaning that she at least didn't have to deal with nausea.
Finally having her eyes open Clarke slowly began to take in her surroundings, letting the world back in. She stared directly at the concrete ceiling, and she could tell that the room was only dimly lit up. Moving her arm once again she became aware of something strapped to her body and when her eyes flickered down Clarke saw various cables attached to different parts of her body, yet most of the cables were attached to her head.
Did she suffer a serious head injury?
Clarke tried to remember what had happened. She remembered the Ark, remembered Bellamy and the others. She remembered the flame she wanted to bring Luna, safely tucked away in her pocket. There was also Emerson and she suddenly remembered taking a serious hit to the head – more than once.
Her hands shot up to her chest as she remembered the gunshot, but there was no pain. Pushing away the thin cover Clarke inspected herself closer. She was dressed in a plain white shirt and grey sweats. Closer inspecting the area where she knew the bullet had hit her, she found nothing. There was nothing that indicated that she had been shot. Not even a scar. Nothing.
Was it all a dream? Had her head injury been that bad that she had been in a coma? How long had she laid here?
Moving her eyes to her right to further inspect her room, Clarke inhaled sharply when she took in her surroundings. She wasn't alone in the room, it wasn't even a room. It was a hall. And dozens of people were lying in a single bed, being attached to machines. Just like her. Looking to her left, she was greeted with the same picture.
Where the hell was she?
Slowly detaching herself from the machines Clarke slipped out of the bed. Her legs felt like jelly and she quickly grabbed onto the bed to keep herself on her legs. She took another look around the hall. The beds were lined up next to each other, separating each by three feet. Glancing at the sleeping people, they were dressed like her. Even the machines were the same. Did they all have the same condition?
Another thing Clarke picked up about the room was the impersonality. Clarke couldn't detect anything, not even charts with the patient histories. However there were all numbers above the beds and her eyes intuitively flickered up towards her own bed.
#319
This place made her nervous. Very nervous. There was something about it that didn't seem right. It obviously wasn't a normal medical ward that much was clear. But she couldn't fathom what else this place could be. It felt a little like Mount Weather, but that couldn't be. Mount Weather was gone, literally. The Mountain Men dead and the accommodations blown up.
But whom on earth was this equipped?
There was no chance that the Grounders would be able to provide a place like this. It was too technical. The only ones left were her own people. Yet Clarke knew that most of the technical instruments had been lost by the landing of the Ark, and the equipment that had survived needed power.
Power they didn't have.
Still a little wobbly on her legs, Clarke managed to move to the bed to her left. There laid a brown haired man. He almost looked serene. But the blonde girl didn't know him. He was a stranger. A nobody. A number.
Just like her.
Number Three-Twenty seemed to be in his mid-twenties and from what she saw he appeared to be in good shape. Clarke couldn't see any injuries, and he wasn't looking sick to her. Still, he was in a coma. She stared at the little monitor next to his bed, but the data seen on the screen made no sense to her, couldn't decipher what they were telling her.
The next bed was occupied by an older woman, owning the number Three-Twenty-One. Her black hair was in stark contrast to her pale clothes and the white bedding.
How did they all end up here?
Clarke started another attempt to stand on her feet and she was pleased to find herself standing firmly, albeit swaying a little. Her balance needed some more time, but at least she could walk around slowly – if she stayed close to the bed rails in case her legs gave way under her.
Carefully she made her way down the line of beds, keeping her gaze on the people lying on the beds. She couldn't recognize any of them. Clarke made her way gradually down the hall, the faces keep passing just like their numbers. Three-Thirty, Three-Thirty-One, Three-Thirty-Two,…
Suddenly she heard a commotion at the other end of the hall. Turning around Clarke saw a man entering, completely dressed in white. The man wore a glasses and his blonde short hair could certainly use a good wash.
He looked up and his eyes met hers.
Time stood still.
Clarke saw him gazing the beds and the moment his eyes fell upon her empty one, she knew he connected the dots. The man's posture changed immediately as his head shot back towards her, mouth agape and eyes wide open.
She guessed that her own expression wasn't so different from his.
Clarke observed all of his movements. She had learnt the hard way to not trust just anyone. It could end very badly. Her past had marked her, trust would never come easy again.
The man moved slowly backwards, though she didn't know if it was because he saw her as a threat or if he didn't want to frighten her. One step at a time, his eyes stayed on her. A shudder run down her back and she tensed up. She didn't like the latest progress.
He arrived back at the door on the other side of the hall and just like before he just stood there sparingly. Nothing had changed, but there was something in his demeanor that made her uneasy. He was more composed now, almost determined.
His arm rose up and his hand hovered over a round button.
Her eyes widened and her heart hammered, everything in her screamed possible danger, still she stayed rooted.
It didn't take long and the man hit the button, the lights in the room went out and an emergency light lit up. An alarm started to sound from speakers somewhere in the room. Panicking about the sudden attention drawn to her location, Clarke's eyes scanned the room before they landed back on the man.
To her horror she noticed him striding quickly towards her, holding something in his hands. But it was too dark to see what it was. Distrusting and frightened, Clarke acted now purely on instinct. Quickly turning around she started to run as best as she could in her current state.
"Hey!"
Looking behind her Clarke saw him starting to run after her. Clarke cursed under her breath and picked up her pace trying to get to the door before the man reached her. The adrenaline pumping through her veins fueled her on. How did she always end up in situations like this one?
Clarke made it surprisingly to the door before the man could reach her, but he was getting closer. Too close. She needed him to be gone. Opening the door and slipping through it the blonde kept a firm grip on it. How far away had he been?
Counting down the seconds while listening to the sounds on the other side of the door Clarke abruptly pushed against the door with her whole body when she heard the man approaching, staggering slightly back when the man's body collided with the door. Satisfied after hearing him groan she turned around, wanting to be gone before he had collected himself again.
Facing now her new surroundings there were three corridors, two on either side of her and one leading straight ahead. Voices and approaching steps took her the option of going left so that she quickly decided on going right. The voices got closer and the emergency light made it harder for her to see where she was walking to. More voices and steps joined the others, this time coming from the hallways leading straight ahead.
She felt like a mouse in a maze.
Trapped, and being herded to a specific place.
No real escape within sight.
Still she kept going on. She won't give up, not without a fight. She had never given up without trying and she wouldn't start now. No, and if she would go down here, then at least they'd remember her. They'll remember that Three-Nineteen was no helpless little girl.
Three-Nineteen was a fighter.
Opting to change routes Clarke opened a door to her right, entering a room which wasn't much more lightened like the other. She closed the door and hoped that her pursuer would continue going ahead, but she wouldn't wait to see if her little distraction worked.
Clarke moved further into the room. It was different than the one she woke up in. For one, there were no people lying in beds while being hooked up to machines. Well there were machines, but it looked more like there were for maintenance.
A sudden movement in the corner of the room startled her and Clarke knew that she wasn't alone in the room. And it also didn't look like there was a second exit. She was trapped in this room with one of them, and more people just around the corner.
But she could deal with one person. One person would be okay. One person meant she had still a chance.
The person in the shadows got closer. Clarke's heart hammered in her chest, she was already waiting for the perfect moment. She laid in wait, ready to attack as soon as the person was close enough. She had fought against a panther with just a knife. She could handle a human.
She had always beat the odds. She'd do it again.
Her eyes stayed on the person moving closer to her, though there was something that calmed her down. The person wasn't approaching in a quick way but rather walking gently towards her. As far as she could see, the posture of this person didn't seem threatening. There was almost something familiar at the way the person was moving to her.
As the person stepped into an illuminated part of the room Clarke took a sharp intake of her breath and she felt her heart skip a beat. This couldn't be! This must be a dream. She had hit her head and was knocked out, and all of this was just in her imagination.
The person stared at her, looking just as shocked as she felt. Clarke felt eyes mustering her. Her own eyes moistened and she couldn't help the brief sob leaving her lips. Her opposite wasn't faring much better.
It was like it had been just a few hours since she had last seen him. His comforting frame she had always loved to nestle herself into, his teddy bear-eyes she had grown accustomed to whenever she had achieved a new milestone in her life, showing him that she wasn't a little girl anymore, his brown hair that hung slightly over his forehead.
"Dad?" Clarke breathed.
It took a few seconds before his gaze softened and a smile formed on his lips. The Jake-Griffin-smile. The one smile she loved and adored. The one smile she had thought she'd never see again. Clarke felt a tear making its way down her cheek but she ignored it, instead giving her dad a smile of her own.
Voices outside the room drew her attention back to the door. Her followers were just outside of this very room and she hoped that they'd move on. But she wasn't alone anymore. Her dad was here, he'd help her. Finally a silver lining in this strange and unfamiliar environment.
Everything will be okay.
Clarke turned back to her dad ready to ask him for his help, asking him if he – by any chance – knew a way out of here. Though, just as she turned around she felt a sharp pain as something his her hard against her temple and everything went black in an instant.
The door to the room opened just as Clarke had hit the ground, knocked out for the time being. Three uniformed and armed men entered the room. They relaxed when they saw the blonde girl lying unconscious on the ground.
One of the man nodded at Jake. "Good work, Sir."
Jake nodded in return and watched how the three men picked up Clarke and dragged her out of the room, leaving him alone once again.
Hope you liked this chapter. Tell me your thoughts….
Till next time.
