Murphy awoke in the backseat of Princess's truck, his face on the window, his blood on his lip, and Miller on his shoulder.
"Bro," he said. Which loosely translated to: hey man, stop sleeping on my shoulder #nohomo.
"Bruh," Miller replied which also translated to: sorry bro it was an accident and #yeshomo. Miller immediately leaned to the other side of the truck and was back asleep in a matter of seconds, if he even was awake at all. Monty and Jasper were gone, Octavia was passed out on the steering wheel and Princess was curled in a ball on the passenger side.
Murphy climbed out of the truck and what he saw was unexpected, but not entirely surprising. They were parked in the middle of a clearing surrounded by thick trees, flowering and dense enough to almost blocked out the tropical sun. There was no road and no sign of a trail, but Murphy chose to ignore the enigma of how he and his… friends?... wound up wherever the hell they were.
Jasper and Monty were not gone but rather sharing a sleeping bag in the dirt by the truck (and Murphy had to resist the urge to kick them or pee on them or something worse).
Bellamy was leaning on the back of the truck, staring out to where the trees diverged into a vast yellow beach. He looked grungy sitting there with a stranger's blood still staining his shirt, his hair in a giant knot and a cigarette between his teeth. What a mess they all were.
Murphy took his place beside Bellamy, relaxing in the silence that often fell between them. Their bond was unspoken, something of a fearless leader and a doubtless follower. Murphy owed Bellamy everything for taking him in a month ago, even if it was just to get into more trouble.
Murphy had nothing when he came to Kauai, but Bellamy had offered him a place by his side, a can of beer and something reminiscent of camaraderie. It was more than anyone had offered Murphy in his life.
"I thought we agreed only to smoke when we drink," Murphy finally said, looking off towards the crystalline waves.
Bellamy shrugged, rattling the unseen beer bottle in his left hand.
Bastard, Murphy thought.
"You're probably wondering where we are," Bellamy rightfully said, "Because I am too."
Bellamy passed the cigarette and Murphy did everyone a favor by throwing it into a bush. Not to start a fire though (he wasn't that much of a pyro).
"Octavia drove us here last night, she said something about Lincoln showing her this place."
Murphy finally caught a glimpse of the bruises splattering his knuckles. Memories of the night before flooded him, worse than a storm or a tsunami. He was attacking a cop. There was blood on his fists, a curse on his lips. He was taking the cop's tazer and then his gun. Out of Murphy's entire criminal record, may have been one of the worst. Well top 5, probably.
"Fuck," Murphy spat. It was the only word he could muster to define their night.
"Yeah," Bellamy grimaced through a busted lip, "We're gonna have to lay low for awhile."
"Ya think?" Murphy laughed bitterly, "We fucking assaulted two cops and stole their guns. That's a felony, Blake. I can't afford to go back to jail, it'll be worse now that I'm 18."
Bellamy looked towards his bare feet and nodded.
"Better get comfortable then," Murphy said, taking of his shirt, "We're gonna be here awhile."
Murphy walked out of the trees, away from Bellamy and all the shit that had gone down the night before. Where they were, Murphy realized, was an uninhabited cove. Bright blue waves broke on the shore, melodious and perfect for surfing. Volcanic rocks lay haphazardly on the beach as if they had just fallen from the sky. There was what looked like the remains of a public bathroom and a decrepit looking picnic table, but in the Hawaiian sunlight they were vivid, inexplicably bursting with life. The cove was something of a childhood fantasy, something Murphy couldn't believe as he dove into the waves wearing only a smirk and his plaid boxers.
It was his favorite feeling. Better than being blackout drunk or stupid high. It was the unfathomable calm of diving into another world. The soft yet all encompassing sound of the ocean in his ears and the cool water wrapping around his skin. Murphy didn't mind being penniless and hungry if it meant he got to feel like this everyday.
He emerged like a shark, or a dream, or like a teenager who saw the ocean for the first time only a month ago. He wore a placid smile to match the cool, placid beat of his heart. He ran a hand through his hair and looked back at the golden shore. There were rocks, broken picnic tables, the clearing where the truck was shaded, and then there was something quite peculiar. It looked almost like a tent, except crumpled and fallen in on it self. Hopefully it was just a trick of the eyes. Would it be crazy to think they he just saw a girl disappear into the trees?
Back on the beach Bellamy was finishing his breakfast beer and unloading his shit from the truck. Everything was a tangled mess: partially constructed tents, bikinis in a guitar, a bra remarkably caught on a sweatshirt, a pillow, and a shoe. Murphy was grateful for his quaint backpack of personal belongings in that moment (probably the only moment where it was better to have nothing). He laughed dryly, grabbed his bag and leaving Bellamy to sort through the mess.
Up a small dune and back down it again, Murphy was standing in front of the thing, which truly was a tent and not just Murphy losing his mind. Poking around the fallen insides, he found nothing but a towel, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and a depressing book of Edgar Allen Poe. Just as he ran a finger through the dog-eared pages a sudden force pulled him out of the tent and pushed him to his knees.
It took Murphy a breathless moment to realize the cool pressure on his throat was a knife.
"Chon sen yu op?"(Who sent you?) The attacker said into Murphy's ear, his heart beating with fear and intrigue when he realized the harsh voice belonged to a girl.
"Chon do yu gonplei gon, skat!" (Whom do you fight for boy!)
There was malice in the way she bit her T's, hunger in the way she hissed her S's. Murphy had a feeling he would recognize the fight in her eyes if he saw her.
"Sorry babe, I only speak English," Murphy choked as he pulled back his chin to escape the knife. The girl sighed, finally pulling away the knife and pushing Murphy away.
He looked up at her from the sand, rubbing his neck as if would remove the bruise already forming there. His breathe threatened to leave him again as he took a good look at his attacker.
"Water," the girl spoke. She choked the word into a question so strong and broken Murphy didn't know how to reply. She had a knife, the stance of a hit man and a gang tattoo violently careening over her cheek. At first glance she was a predator, disastrous and dangerous and ready to fight. But looking up from the sand Murphy could see the fire behind her eyes, the hopeless look of a girl watching all of her hope burn into flames.
Murphy held out his bottle, now more intrigued than afraid of his wild attacker. She quickly grabbed it and, with shaking focus, poured its contents onto her tongue. Water dribbled down her chin and neck all while Murphy watched, rather breathlessly, similar to how a person watches someone paint a picture or sew a wound. Desperation wore through her strong façade as she licked the remaining water off her hand. The other, Murphy realized, was coveted behind her back.
Her eyes met Murphy's and then he understood. She was no predator. She was prey who had been hunted for far too long.
With a sigh, she built herself back up again, looking as mysterious as ever as she returned his water bottle.
"Thank you," she smiled. Murphy mumbled something awkwardly along the lines of no problem as he fumbled to his feet.
"Sorry about that," she sighed at his already bruising neck, "You can never be too careful out here in the Deadzone."
"The Deadzone?" Murphy echoed.
"Yes," she replied, raising her eyebrows in question, "Where did you think we were?"
Murphy shrugged, looking out towards the waves before meeting the girl's gaze again. He didn't mind the way she looked at him.
"Well you're a long way from the tourist beaches," the girl shook her head.
"Kinda the point," Murphy explained, "Whatever this place is it's better than being out there chased by the cops."
"Ah," the girl smiled at his reveal, "So that's what brings you to my beach."
"Unfortunately," Murphy found himself silenced by the smile growing on his lips, "Or fortunately."
"Then we have a lot in common, you and I. We're both on the run."
Murphy wasn't too surprised by that. From the way she was living it was clear she was scraping to survive. No wonder she had attacked him.
"Maybe," Murphy laughed, not his biting laugh or his sarcastic laugh but a genuine, amused laugh.
"But you're taste in literature is pretty questionable. What was that in your tent? A Tell Tale Heart and Harry Potter? Doesn't really make sense."
"Or it makes perfect sense," she replied, sounding more relaxed as she raised her eyebrows playfully. "There's hope and magic to balance out the depressing and true, I'd say I got it all."
Murphy bit back a grin. Besides his better judgment he was starting to like this girl.
"If by all you mean a broken tent and no food or water, then sure."
The girl looked away to hide her laugh, some knotty hair blowing in her face.
"You know," Murphy said, taking a step towards her, "I-well, me and my group-we have food, water, potentially some tequila. I'm sure we could help you out."
The girl looked at him intently, pleasantly surprised but nevertheless wary. He watched as her eyes narrowed, weighing her options.
"And what do I give you in return?" She asked rather smartly.
"You seem to know a lot about this place, we can help each other out."
"And why should I trust you?" the girl tested him by taking a step forward. Murphy matched her step, now they were face to face. Brown eyes burning blue.
"What better option do you have?"
She held his gaze, watching for any sign of joke or mistruth. Whatever she saw in Murphy's eyes she must have liked because she held out her hand with a devious smirk.
"I'm Emori."
"I'm John. John Murphy."
Clarke awoke feeling fucked in more ways then one. For starters, she had a hangover that would last for a week and a black eye darker than hell itself. But even worse than her upset stomach and lack of Advil was the feeling of what they had done. Clarke attacked a cop. And she liked it. She wondered if she would recognize her reflection if she saw it. Luckily, this desolate beach was fresh out of mirrors.
She was mulling over a bag of lychees side by side with Octavia who wore her hangover like a badge of honor. Bellamy was setting up his tent while Jasper and Monty tried to sort out the mess that was the back of Clarke's truck. Miller was off looking for water.
"How does a bra even do this?" Jasper remarked, holding up a knot of clothing and shoes held together by a lace bra.
"Blame Clarke," Octavia said through a cheek of lychees, "She's the one with Double D's."
"Hey it's not like we had time to pack," Clarke frowned as she grabbed the knot from Jasper and untied the mess of clothing in a matter of seconds.
"It's not like we had time for anything," Monty added, "I mean do we even have enough water or food?"
At this point Bellamy had joined the group at the back of the truck, silently grabbing some lychees from Octavia's hand.
"Yeah," Clarke said rather grimly, "If were only staying for a day."
"What do you mean?" Bellamy asked with cheeks more full than his sister, "We have hot dogs, burgers, a shit ton of alcohol-"
"Yeah and only three bottles of water," Clarke interrupted, "With seven of us how long do you think that's gonna last?"
"Make that eight."
The group turned to see Murphy standing in his wet boxers an unusual smile distorting his lips. Lingering just behind him was a strange girl, who was clearly no stranger to these beaches. She had tan skin, salty hair and menacing tattoo painted over cheek, up her nose and to her forehead.
"This is Emori," Murphy gestured towards the girl, "Emori these are the assholes I live with."
Jasper and Monty smiled at her, clearly intrigued by the new addition to the group. Clarke and Bellamy shared a worried look. A machete appeared in Octavia's hand and she began to twirl it from her seat on the back of the truck.
Murphy caught onto their suspicion pretty quickly and added, "She's from around here, I bet she can help us out."
This seemed to grab Clarke's attention; she quickly stood and held her hand out to Emori.
"I'm Clarke," she said, sounding more like a politician than a homeless drifter, "You wouldn't happen to know where we can find water?"
"There's not much out here in the Deadzone," Emori spoke, "Besides coconuts and rain the only water you can get is from town."
"The Deadzone?" Jasper echoed, "This sounds promising."
"Yeah, what the hell is that?" Bellamy added with crossed arms.
"These beaches are uninhabited for a reason," Emori articulated, looking around at the delinquent, "And I thought you mainlanders were supposed to be smart," she laughed, "We can't get by on tourism alone so the government sells patches of land like this to corporations for testing. Though this beach is safe, I wouldn't want to be here for too long."
"Even in Hawaii we can't escape the corporate bullshit," Bellamy groaned.
Clarke tried to ignore him as the rest of the group sighed in agreement.
"So were squatting here, that's not too surprising," Clarke spoke, looking at Emori intently, "But what are they testing?"
"Pesticides," Emori spat the word like it was a curse, "They're destroying our native land. That's why these beaches and forests are Grounder hunting grounds, they're trying to destroy these businesses before they destroy us."
"Grounders," Octavia exclaimed, finally looking up from her machete, "Are you Trikru?"
Clarke and Murphy shared a confused look. Murphy new from the first time he met Lincoln that he was part of a gang, but a gang of political vigilantes? And to think their mess couldn't get any messier.
"Sankru," Emori corrected, "Well I used to be-"
"So what your saying is that this land is not only corporate owned, but also taken over by a gang of natives, who could potentially get us into trouble even more trouble?" Bellamy huffed from beside Clarke.
"Basically, but where we are, right here, is completely uninhabited. The only Grounder here is me."
"Wait what do you mean you used to be," Clarke questioned, taking another step towards Emori, "Why are you here."
"I'm hiding," Emori said, her voice harsh, challenging, "Same as you."
They held eye contact, strong, unwavering. Maybe it was for too long, maybe not long enough.
Clarke nodded.
"You can stay," Bellamy nodded in agreement before catching Murphy's gaze.
"Hey, are you hungry?" Jasper piped in.
"We have potato chips," Monty added with a smile. Emori returned the smile, her eyes glowing with a new light. Maybe all that hope she used to have wasn't entirely lost to the flames.
"Cool sword," Murphy heard her say, to who must have been Octavia, "I can show you the best way to sharpen it."
"Murphy," Bellamy turned his name into a command as he grabbed his friend's arm.
"What the hell man," Bellamy whispered.
"She needed help, Bell," Murphy spoke, his voice indifferent but Bellamy could see how much he cared in his eyes, "I wasn't just going to let her starve."
"She could be dangerous," Bellamy remarked.
"So are we," Murphy spat, his voice laced with its usual venom. He was just about to turn away when he saw Miller approaching from the beach.
"You guys!" Miller screamed, or cried, or laughed. "You guys aren't going to believe this."
Miller's voice was slurred and excited and everything about it was completely wrong. He could barely walk in a straight line.
"Mermaids," he grinned, "Mermaids, can't you see them?"
"Miller, how many of Monty's shrooms did you take?" Bellamy laughed.
But just as he laughed Miller collapsed, coughing and gasping with an empty water bottle in his hand.
This was not good.
"Fuck!" Clarke cursed as she ran towards Miller. Now he was completely passed out, "What's wrong with him?"
Emori walked over, calmly examining his face, his hands, and the empty bottle by his side.
"The water," she spoke, her eyes wide, her voice grim, "It's poisoned."
author's note: hey guys thanks so much for reading! i'm going away and will not have a computer for ten days but i will keep writing and expect updates when i come back! 3