Chapter Ten
Disclaimer: I own nothing mentioned in this story
Posted:(4/11/15)
A year and eight months
Cage paces, dark hair falling into his face before he runs his hand through it, shoving it back as he stares at the guard at the computer. "What else have you found on her?"
The guard almost sighs but refrained from it. "Nothing."
Cage's eyes narrow at the lack of information as he steps forward. "Have you told my father about me?"
The guard tilts his chin, he had kept this a secret, no matter his loyalty to Dante he knew Cage's resources and his cunningness as well as craziness. A lost one. "No sir." The guard's voice is strong and sure and true.
"You better not be lying." His eyes are almost crazed and annoyed.
"I'm not sir." He tilts his head to the screen. "There have been developments though."
Cage's eyes brighten. "Like?"
"They've been traveling to more villages." He shuffles through pictures that the guards had brought him. They still wore their suits outside of the compound, mostly so Dante Wallace wouldn't realize more than five guards had their treatment. Secrets held between the guards and the good doctor. Plans were being made and soon the ground would be theirs. Less than three more years if Monty's body continued to work correctly. The quicker they got to the ground the quicker everything would be okay. Fresh air and sunshine.
"Why?"
"She's a healer I believe." The guard pulls up a quick picture of the blonde treating a warrior in the field, fingers pressing on the wound as she stares at the warrior, mouth open in speech. Caught by the camera of the mountain men. The cameras they carried out and stood by, taking pictures. High in the trees and hundred of yards away. "She's passing on knowledge."
He eyes the blonde, not seeing what his father sees in this blonde. There was nothing interesting about her. She was small, didn't look strong. Didn't look fierce but somehow she managed to catch his father's attention. Could it be just the blonde hair? "No plans. Nothing?"
"No. It all seems so normal." The screen flashes with more pictures of the group of natives. They hunted. They fought Reapers. They were anything but special. Ordinary in every right.
"There is nothing normal." Cage stares at the pictures as he speaks, eyes narrowed on the healer of the natives. Riding on a horse. Lips caught in an almost grin. Hands soft on wounded warriors. "My father is curious about her. There has to be something. He wants our people to walk on the ground and Dr. Tsing is giving him that. He needed the mountain protected and I gave him that. What does he want from this girl?"
The guard just shrugs. "Nothing yet sir. Just curious to where she came from."
"Why?"Cage questions, honestly curious and if not slightly jealous.
"Her hair made him question it first." The guard shrugs again, the hair was odd but it was just blonde, they had some blondes in the mountain, almost as brightly gold as the native's hair, slightly dulled from no sun but still light. There was nothing special about this native.
"And if I tell you to bring her in?" Arms are clasped behind Cage's back as he stares at the guard.
"I would explain that your father only wishes for surveillance right now. If anything drastic happens i'll let you know." The guard promises, continuing to flip through images. "If he wants her brought in i'll tell you. You can bring her to him."
"Good. Good." Cage eyes the pictures again before something else catches his eye. "And the other blonde, the darker haired one. Who's she?"
The guard takes in the war paint and the weapons on her, her body language and the information he had collected over time. "The leader of that village it looks like."
Cage eyes the stern eyes, eyes the way they are on the blonde in some of the photos. "The importance?"
"She's trained the blonde. They've been seen exiting the same tent." He pulls up a blurry picture, one taken high in the trees hundreds of yards away.
Cage sighs, eyes narrow before he is stepping away. "Let me know of any developments."
"Yes sir."
Maya walks into the room, lip busted slightly and gaze broken. She shuffles forward in a quiet and broken walk. The bag is once again on her back, holding food. She deposit little food in each cage silently, voice quiet and eyes not meeting the eyes of the warriors. Never looking up from the floor. They watch her cautiously, used to the words on her lips and the hope and promise in her eyes.
Bodies are tense as they focus on the girl with skin paler than the moon. Some stare at the girl in confusion and others stuff the food into their mouths like it would be taken away with the slightest time left untouched. As she's giving the last of the food to the last caged warrior, dark eyes finally look up into familiar dark green. Black hair frames the warrior's confused yet guarded eyes as a set of dark broken eyes look up into hers. There are no promises on her lips this time. No hope in her eyes and the usually defiant warrior feels goosebumps prick over her body.
Monty clenches his jaw and throws his head back, holding in a scream and grunt of pain. He had gotten used to the pain. Eight months of this and Monty felt like he was dying already. They had to drill a new hole this week, the others gone and used to much. Bruises line his skin and his face is paler than normal. Body frail and pumped full of pills and supplements. Dr. Tsing continue to pull bone marrow until Monty is sure he'll die. Then it stops. Her smile is sweet and suppose to be calming. It only serves to set him on edge. Make his heart race and eyes cross.
"All done for this week." She brushes the hair from his face in a soothing and caring gesture. Like a mother brushing the hair from her feverish childs hot forehead. "You're saving so many people. You have no idea how important you are to us." She fiddles with his medicine. "I've given you fluids and more medicine to aid in the regrowth of your bone marrow. Rest. Eat plenty of protein Monty." The way her lips curve over his name make him shudder. "You're saving children's lives. Our lives." She reminds him again and again every single time he is brought him.
Slowly Monty falls into unconsciousness. Maria Tsing feels her lips twitch. Almost a hundred of her people were already cured. Twenty-seven children. Thirty guards, thirty teenagers and ten doctors including herself. 97 treatments. They were a few months ahead of schedule and it was looking good. Great. With Cage's permission they could soon send out guards to find a place to live. To grow crops and finally touch the ground again. To be home.
Dante finishes running through the painting and its significance before the bombs, helping the children learn about the history of art. The appreciation of it. His fingers itch to paint. To use some kind of median and get these images from his head on onto a canvas. Instead he walks to the Commanding room, eyeing the computer screens. No red alerts. No radiation entering. No threats. He sighs in relief before turning to a familiar guard. "Anything else on her?"
The guard looks up, taking in shoulders that are slightly tense. Of need of relaxation. "Nothing on Rapunzel yet. Still staying in her camp, never going near the mountain or drop-ship." He pulls up pictures of a familiar ship invaded by vines and a panther. "So far we've only learned she's a prisoner turned healer. She travels to other villages but nothing big. No idea where she came from." He sighs. Months spent observing this woman had lead to nothing. He was failing his president.
Dante sighs, fingers twitching. "There is something about her. I can feel it." He stares at the photo of the blonde. Suddenly he knows what he will draw.
"Do you want me to have her ordered to be brought in?" The guard ask quietly, thinking back to Cage and his known impatience.
Dante stares at the computer screen for a few more moments before shaking his head. He had no right to an obsession. His only need was to take care of his people. To show his people had the right to be on the ground again. "No, leave it for now. She is of no importance yet. Just report anything strange to me."
The guard almost sighs. These Wallace's and their obsession with the blonde. "Yes sir.
Abby grips a small boys arm tightly, smiling at him and watches as the boy slowly relaxes before she snaps his arm back into place. A loud crack fills the air and then a loud shrill scream of a child in pain. Jackson begins to wrap the arm as the boy falls unconscious. Abby sighs lowly, she hated to hear the sound of someone in pain, especially a child. Fingers brush his hair out of the way and she looks up at the sound of boots on metal.
Kane walks in slowly, eyeing the medical station, the herbs growing in the other side of the room behind a curtain. "How is everything?" His eyes take in the small boy and they soften.
Abby runs her hands through her hair as they finish setting the young child's arm. He face is haggard and worn. "Low on medical supplies." Her heart aches. They had never prepared for this. For an Earth that was so different than the books they had read. For deer with two heads and creatures that would sooner hunt you than run. Plants that look nothing like the pictures in the books. "I need to go back out. Find more items." Try and figure out what was helpful and harmful. Try some new plants.
Marcus nods, gaze understanding but worried. "Okay. I'll send five guard with you." He worries his lip, thinking of sending more.
Abby finishes putting away supplies, eyeing Marcus as she finishes with the cast ingredients. "Why so many?"
He debates telling the truth. Of eyes on his back and goosebumps on his neck. He licks his lips. "We need more meat. They'll handle it and get whatever you need." His eyes are full of worry before he speak, voice calm yet thundering in a plea. "Be careful."
Abby rolls her eyes, a half smirk on her lip. Almost two years ago and she was fighting with him. Arguing against him. "Always Marcus." She grabs her pack from the corner, nodding to Jackson and the young boy that was currently unconscious. Jackson smiles and nods his head as she heads for the door.
Kane steps forward, voice quiet yet echoing. "Abby."
She spins, hand on the bags strap across her shoulder. "Yes?"
He shifts on his feet. "She has a cough if you could check when you get back."
Eyes flicker over the six month old on his hip. She had ignored the child, any child that came to her. That caused her heart to ache and throb. She swallows. "Of course."
Clarke feels his heart stop and her own crawls into her throat and she crouches over him. Hands on his chest, she's counting under her breath and doing compressions. She's fighting to get him back and the room is silent. Quiet as they watch the healer. Sweat beads on her forehead and tears fill her eyes and she continues to pump his heart. Her hands are steady even as her lungs tremble and shake. It is no use. Three minutes of CPR and he is still gone. Unrevivable. Her jaw trembles as she steps away. The boy's father steps forward, cutting away one of his small braids and murmuring words that Clarke doesn't hear through the blood rushing in her ears. Her stomach rolls and her eyes burn. She hadn't lost anyone in forever. She saved lives. Never lost any in so long, lost anyone so young. She feels sick as she stumbles out of the hut before tearing off into the forest, running through the gate, warriors watching after her in understanding. They stare at the healer's hut mournfully. Losing a child was one of the worst feelings. The air became heavy with grief. Children were their lives.
Clarke keeps running, breathing heavy and she finally trips, falling to her knees. Her hands press into the rock beneath the small stream and she wants to scream. Was this how her mom felt after each loss? Clarke already had fourteen of her own peoples deaths haunting her from the sickness, their blood coating her shirt as they had spit the blood all over her in the dropship. Now she had the rest of the hundred haunting her dreams. She and Murphy the last of a hundred and two people.
Clarke doesn't hear the footsteps, the warriors are to good for her too but she can feel a gaze on her back and a shadow by the stream. She doesn't look up from staring at her reflection in the water, tears threatening to spill from her face. "He will be remembered fondly." Anya's words are gruff, upset but strong.
Blue eyes are fractured as she stares at the small stream. Tears almost rolling down her cheek. "He was a little kid."
Anya steps forward, swallowing thickly, brown eyes fighting to stay calm and emotionless. The death of each and everyone of her people hit her hard. Every-time. They were hers to care for. Be it warrior, child, healer or farmer. "Death is a common occurrence. I can not tell you there won't be more." Her hands are clenched at her side as she stares at the blonde, fingers threatening to move forward and offer comfort when she had no right to touch the blonde.
"I could've done more." The cool stream washes away any blood on Clarke's hands but she can still feel it. Feel the air leaving the small child. The blood warm and thick on her hands and splattering all over her face.
"You take each death hard. Personally. That is respected." Anya finally gives in, stepping until her boots are in the water and her hand lands on Clarke's shoulder. An offer of comfort Anya had never given to the blonde. Brown eyes hold conflict. "You cannot let a piece of you die every-time you cannot save someone. There will be none left."
"What if it's already gone?" Shattered tear filled blue eyes swiftly look up to stare at Anya.
"You have too much heart for it to be gone." Anya's hands tremble. Warriors weren't suppose to be like this. This concerned. This. This weak hearted. They cared for their children more than anything but weaknesses would be exploited and every warrior knew that. Fought against it until their heart cracked and shriveled in pain. Until they finally cracked and either loved or became shells. "Do what you need to do here and then come back. Seeing the others, the children, will help."
"Why?" Clarke's voice cracks as she stares at the slightly older woman.
Anya's jaw trembles before she tightens it, muscles contracting before she speaks. Throat tight but voice even. "It reminds us what we are protecting."
Suddenly blue eyes are angry and confused and so so broken. Full of pain and tears. "He didn't die in battle."
"No." Anya shakes her head, hoping the blonde understands words that are unspoken but there. "But he easily could have. He was young but he was a brave warrior."
Bellamy cradles his head in his hands eyes lost and broken. Grant was gone. The little spitfire fifteen year old that had an affinity for fishing with just his hands in the far stream and a spear in the ocean, was gone. Broken into pieces by a fucking tree in a freak storm. And Lizzie, the girl who had been obsessed with Gus and was all thirteen years of attitude was dead beside him. Lost playing in a forest promised to be safe from all enemies. But never nature. Nature took as it pleased. Bellamy couldn't fight nature. Couldn't glare it down and attack it with his sword or gun. Couldn't protect his people from nature. Bellamy glares at those trees. Those usually still and steady things that had once been home. Bores holes in them before he is moving forward, sword out as he strikes the tree, his ears are ringing and throat aching. He realizes his face is wet and he was screaming. The broken man falls to his knees and stares at the mangled mess of a tree. Arms wrap around him and he buries his head in his sister's shoulder, sobs wracking his body. He clings to her like a child seeking consolation.
Grant had looked up to him. Had been a younger brother. Lizzie. Lizzie had reminded him so much of a younger Octavia, one who didn't have to worry about floating and hiding. They were gone. Never coming back and his heart is ripping into pieces. Octavia holds him, her own tears falling as her brother breaks before her. They hadn't known loss in almost two years and now. Now it hurt like an old wound. Like a knife too deep and it tears them apart. Rips them until their hearts are mangled. Brings back memories. Pains forgotten and it adds to them. Makes them fester and grow until all they feel is that deep aching pain. An echo. A ripple.
It is a somber affair. The pyre is high, full of trinkets and toys. Weapons and food. Grant's knife rests across his chest as well as his mom's wedding ring. Lizzie's fingers are loosely wrapped around a stuffed animal and a long spear by her side. Their faces are covered, and Bellamy lights the fire. Heart cracking in two as his voice breaks. "May we meet again."
Luna echoes him in her own goodbye to the children as they stand in the middle of the wreckage, tree blown down and shattered. Blood coats all of them. Blood from the lost and blood from themselves. "Your fight is over." The sky isn't dark and grey like Bellamy once read in the books. It isn't raining. Isn't storming or showing their pain and sadness through a grey sky. That storm has come and passed. No, the day is bright. Sunny and oh so bright. The sun beats down on them as the flames lick and take away what had been their friends, their family. Two children lost to soon. Ripped from their lives unexplained.
"ABBY!" A woman's voice rips through the night and she shakes her best friend. Feet pound on the metal and then lights shine bright and white into the room. Tears fill the woman's eyes as Jackson races by her, fingers finding Abby's neck.
His own heart thunders as he focuses on his friend. "Faint pulse. What happened?"
Callie shakes, gaze full of fear. "I don't know! I was coming to check on her. I had this feeling and she was just shaking and foaming."
"I don't know what this could be." Jackson's voice cracks and breaks as he checks over her.
Kane stumbles in, baby in his arms. "Whats going on?" His eyes find the doctor. "ABBY!?" He races forward but Jackson shoves him back.
"We have no idea whats wrong get her out of here. It could be airborne or infectious hurry!" Kane leaves but paces outside once he's set Artemis with a baby sitter.
Jackson checks Abby's eyes, vitals, eyes full of panic and brain short circuiting. "I can't find anything wrong with her! No explanation. Foaming." Tears fill his eyes. "Fever. Foam. Foam. Poison. Ingestion." He rolls her onto her side and purges her stomach. She doesn't wake. He clings to his hair. eyes frantic. "Please Abby. Please I can't. I can't do this without you." His hands tremble before he takes a deep breath and stills. "Get her on a gurney, we don't have much time." His hands are steady as he grabs and intubation kit, an I.V and a flushing kit.
Murphy stares at the carved wooden figuring in his hand, a poor imitation of a horse but Murphy sets it on the pyre. He stands there, throat tight as he watches the boy's father clench his jaw and place his favorite sword on the pyre. Gaze broken. His only son. Gone. No reason. His shoulders were struggling to stay back and straight as he threatening to cave into himself. Hunch his shoulders under the burden of outliving your child. Tears prick the man's eyes but they do not fall. Each villager brings something forward; a piece of food, a toy, anything that would be burned with the child and help him until his spirit found another. His father's hands are steady as he cuts his own braid and rests it on his son's chest. The cloth is wrapped tightly around his son, keeping him from view as Anya grips the torch tightly, she hands it to the father, One of her best blacksmiths. His strong shoulder threaten to shudder under the weight but he stands tall. "Your fight is over my son." The fire catches and they all stand and watch. Clarke, eyes focused on the small body encased in cloth as silence consumes them all.
Hours later Jackson is resting his head on the edge of Abby's bed. Her breathing is even and heart rate normal. Callie rests in the chair across from Jackson, hand on the bed. Jackson continues to watch her chest rise and fall. Slowly. Ever so slowly but steady. It calms his frantic heart. His panicked mind.
He sits there for hours, counting her breaths. Waiting for her to wake. Waiting for results. The sky darkens and then it is night again. His eyes burn as he stares at her. Waiting. Waiting. Somewhere outside Kane is ordering guards around, Artemis on his hip and eyes in the trees on the man. They watch as the man seems to command attention and order without harsh words. A child on his hip that coos and gurgles but does not keep him from his tasks. Still the scouts watch these Skaikru. These invaders who had yet to attack any other villages. Yet to find any other villages. The scout had watched the panic hit the camp hours before, watched them carry a woman with foaming lips and shaking limbs. Signs of the Nitefler. These Skaikru were stupid. The woman had ingestion one of the berries when she walked into camp. They were hopeless. Stupid and ignorant of the dangers of Earth.
Inside the broken pieces of the Mecha station Abby's eyes flutter open and she lets out a low moan. "Abby!" Jackson's voice is amazed and relieved. "How do you feel?"
She groans, reaching for her throat. "You intubated me?"
Jackson's face seems to relax and his shoulders unfurl from their tense state. "I had to ex-purge your stomach, you ate something toxic."
"A dark black berry, red juice." Abby winces as her throat aches and her stomach throbs. Definitely puked too much for her own good. "Plant has four leaves connected to the berry."
Jackson sighs, Earth skill, Abby lacked in those. "You bring any more with you?"
The woman winces as she sits up, abdominal muscles protesting as Jackson paces her a cup of water. "My satchel, I hadn't gotten around to taking it into the kitchen."
Jackson lets out a soft laugh. "I'm glad your okay."
"Me too Jackson." She squeezes his hand. "Thank you."
He nods his head, swallows thickly. "How about you don't eat anything else we haven't studied?"
She laughs. "Deal." Her gaze sweeps over to her best friend who could sleep through anything, face slack in sleep and worry lines on the woman's forehead.
Three days later Maya steps into the room. Gaze still on the floor as she places food with the natives. Her face still throbbed from the guards fist a few days ago. From the confrontation in the kitchen between her and two other guards. The fist on her face and then the forced promise once one of the guards had left. He looked the other way and would stand by her at any future meetings and she stole other things for him. Bartered the underground system the President had no idea about. The dark haired girl comes to an empty cage, one usually full of a six foot native that always nodded in thanks to her. Confused eyes look to the bleeding station but no natives hang there. The stations unusually empty.
Her eyes find the one woman's; green eyes glare in hatred and then Maya is biting her lip as understanding flashes through her body. "He's dead isn't he." Not a question yet she receives no reply. "I'm trying. I'm questioning and I'm trying but they still need the blood. They think they can't go another two years without it. Dr. Tsing has a cure. She working on it." Maya's hands tremble and her voice is full of despair and a brokenness. "I'm working on letting you go but they won't agree to it yet. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She cracks. This was never suppose to be them. They were never suppose to kill people. Bleed them dry. Her mother's face frozen in a painting flashes behind closed eyes. Determination fills the dark haired girl. Her mother fought for them, Maya would continue to do the same.
Rain pounds on tree tops and across the metal roofing. The sound is all consuming and Clarke is reminded of the hurricane that had hit when Clarke was fixing Finn and torturing Lincoln. Its a whoosh of water and wind, so loud she can't hear what Raid is screaming at the warriors. Everyone is scrambling around, trying to put everything away. The horses are shuffled into the barn like building, most antsy and shifting nervously on their feet as the rain plasters their mans to their necks and makes the paint on their flanks run.
Clarke's own blonde hair is matted to her head as she works to help the hunters move the meat that had been cooking, into the meat shack. Over the torrent of rain and wind she can make out Anya shouting orders to the warriors as the woman shuffles children into huts with no metal. Thunder booms and the sky darkens as if angry. The ground is flooding with water and mud, tent flaps billowing in the swift and merciless wind as warriors tie them down. "Get the reserves to thee bunkers!" Every villager is soaked to the bone under this sporadic and unseen storm. Anya helps her warriors finish moving the last of the meat and barely into the bunker. Brown eyes worried. It hadn't stormed like this in years. The small walkways were flooding and already villagers were shivering and shaking in cold.
Clarke shoves her way into one of the larger huts, people shiver inside but none complain about the compaction of bodies. When the burning light struck, one would rather be in a leaking hut than a metal bunker. Anya scrambles her way into a hut after checking all the other bunkers and huts, shuffling orphaned children in front of her until everyone is safe and inside the huts. They wait it out.
Kane wipes his hair back from where it is plastered to his forehead. "How much longer do you think this will keep up?" He shouts over the noise. "Its been two days already."
Sinclair rubs his forehead, feeling a headache coming as he look around the room at disgruntled people. "It could end today or last another week. I don't know."
The other shuffle and groan in annoyance and Kane tits his head to the side, collecting Abby and Wick along the way. They stand in a secluded corner, eyeing the other occupants warily before they begin to speak in low tones. "Is it safe to be in the Arc with the lightning?"
Wick snorts, whether in amusement or scoffing desolation is unknown. "No, but there is no way in hell was can fit them all into a hut." He eyes the storm pounding on the window sky dark and muted. "I could get a rod up a few paces outside of camp and on the very tip top of the Arc, draw any lightning to it."
Kane narrows his eyes in suspicion of mother nature. "Will that actually work?"
Wick laughs. "If it doesn't you can have my shoes." He pats Kane on the back as the man holds Artemis' slumbering form and Wick winks at Abby. "I hope you know how to treat third degree burns if this goes wrong."
Abby sighs, worry and frustration on her face. "I don't think you'll survive if you get hit by lightning."
Wick shrugs, an easy grin on his face. "Probably not, but hey at least I went out with a bang." He turns to Sinclair. "I need rubber shoes and rubber boots."
Sinclair rubs his forehead again before nodding. "You are trouble. Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?"
Wick shrugs is blonde hair out of his eyes as water drips down his face. "Really dangerous, but hey rather it be me than the fifty kids in here."
Kan grips Wick's shoulder as he hands a stiffening Abby his daughter. "Be careful."
Wick rolls his eyes but moves outside. "God I hope this actually works." He mumbles to himself as he and Sinclair collect copper wire and aluminum. "Hey Sinclair where's the huge copper poles?"
"Bridges put it in the mechanic station."
Wick huffs quietly. "Damn mechanics." He makes his way over there, rubber gloves on his hands as he picks up the huge rods buried in a mess. The damn mechanics and their messy work rooms. The grumbling engineer heads back to Sinclair, the water dripping down his back and soaking the both of them quickly. "How far out do we want to put the grounding rod?"
Sinclair wraps wires tightly, rubber coating already on the outside of them. "Outside the fence would be the best place. Kane's already digging a hole outside it."
"We have enough wire to travel that far?"
Sinclair wipes the water from his forehead only to have it running down in his eyes again. "We should, the north side of the Mecha station is right next to the fence, it happens to be the highest structural piece also." There is anxiety yet relief in his voice and Wick nods, knowing how the man felt.
"Awesome, i'll climb up and you can toss me the wires. Hopefully we can get this set up quickly." Wick grins as he climbs the building, feet scrambling for purchase on the slick surface of the Mecha station. The place he had called home all his life. The rod rests on his back and finally he makes it to the very top of the station. His fingers are steady as he connects the wire and finishes the last bit before tossing the wire down to Sinclair and watching as he runs it the five feet to the outside of the fence until he is hooking it to the other rod, dropping the wire in a small trench dug six inches underground. Wick crouches while his knee jumps and jerks in nerves as he waits for the two men to pack the dirt back around the rod and wire. The second they level the ground atop the rod buried maybe five feet under ground he's attaching the final piece to the copper rod and setting it up as high as it will go until finally it is straight and attached. Under no threat of breaking or bending.
He grins as he slides off the side of the Mecha station, feet slapping into muddy water and a stark white grin on his face under rain and mud. The other two men grin at him. They may be cold and in a completely metal building but they had done something only read about in history books.
Outside Camp Jaha the scout sits on the ground under a dark green canopy, gaze annoyed as the rain splatters all over him, his eyes watch the men as they put up the odd pole and shout in triumph. What was the use of that pole and why bury the other end? Could they control the bright lights that struck the trees and the Earth?
Bellamy watches the rain pelt the ocean. He is completely soaked but he feels better as his hair plasters itself to the back of his neck and his forehead. The rain was one of his favorite things about Earth. The rain and the food. He remembers the first time feeling the rain, the fire burning in a camp full of criminals years younger than him that slowly became his family. He had felt as free as them. His sister back and on the ground with a freedom they had never known before.
He watches the waves beat against the rocks, watches the buoys they had line connected to move and sway in the water. The wind rippling the waves and throwing up salty mist. Gus sits at his feet, head on her paws as she glowers at the sea; he can already smell the mustiness of a wet wolf. The sky is dark but they would survive. The huts were completely dry, set many feet above the ground so the flooding pathways did little damage. He could hear the children throwing mud at one another and the healer scolding them before shoving them into a hut. He closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh from the very bottom of his body.
"Contemplating jumping in Shooter?" He can hear the smirk in the mechanic's voice as he turns around, she has grease stains on her face and a grin on her lips as she walks towards him.
He rolls his eyes as Diesel, the ever lazy wolf flops down at Raven's feet, bone in her mouth and grease smudge across her paws. "Contemplating throwing you in." He offers his own smirk as the words leave his lips.
Raven rolls her own eyes, amusement in them. "Whatever you say Great Leader." She motions to a rod sitting on top of the larger metallic building for holding meat. "Like it?" There is a gleam of triumph in her eyes.
"What the hell is it?" He stars at the contraption, an almost bronze dirty colored rod that seems to have smaller copper colored rods coming off of it.
The mechanic huffs in annoyance. She expected more from the man. "A lightning rod. Could tweak it and use it to store electricity during the next storm."
He smiles ruefully, Raven was always finding new projects to toy with. Most of the time they ended up with her workshop on fire or hers and Jasper's eye brows gone for a few weeks. "Is that even safe?"
Raven smirk widens. "Is it ever." She shrugs. "Luna's sending me and some warriors to a wasteland of electronics so we could use the lightning instead of wasting it."
The man shifts nervously on his feet, hating when his people left his sight. His protection. "Where at?"
"Close to the Dead Zone."
His throat tightens and his mind flashes back to his sister, bloodied and hurt. "There's nomads out there Raven."
She snorts at the man, knowing he was a worry-wart. "And i'm taking Devi with me as my personal mule and body guard."
Bellamy frowns, lips tightening in worry and thought. "He won't be enough to protect you."
"Which is why Sterling and Miller are coming with me, if they can deal with not have sex right next to my sleeping bag." She rolls her eyes, they went at it like mutated rabbits most days. "She's also sending a few of her personal guard with me."
The rain continues to pelt them as Bellamy stares at Raven, debating many thing in his head until finally he sighs, shoulders slumping in resignation. "Be careful."
"I'll be fine. Diesel will eat any nomads who get to close." Her fingers brush along her head before she scowls at the sky. "Can we stop staring at the ocean in the rain. It's a bit sad and creepy and I'm completely soaked."
Pulling wet hair from her face Clarke works on holding the fence piece up as Murphy ties the bottom half down. A tree had fallen, taking pieces of the fence down with it, the others were using a few horses to take the huge tree away and few with bows trained atop the guard tower in case of attack. Anya is ripping piece of broken fence away from the hole and working with her warriors to tie them back together. Once the rain stopped they could go back and fix what they could. What they had missed in the haste to put the fence back together in the darkness and pouring rain. Make it better. The water is up to their ankles as it rolls down the hill and outside the fence. The village was thankfully on a hill. Clarke struggles to keep her footing in the muddy ground and Murphy just grunts as he nicks himself with his knife, feet slipping along the slick pathway until he finds balance again. His arm throbs in the cold pelting rain. The injury inflamed by the weather.
Raid is shouldering a huge log, pressing it into the side of the fence near the hole. Adding support as they tie off the support beam on a tree and fix the mess that had been made. The hold is large, almost seven feet wide and slowly, ever so slowly closing as they work to fix it. Three days of constant rain had left spirits low and anger high. The tree falling onto the fence only added to their heightened emotions. A few more days of this and there would be fights and arguments.
With the rain gone sickness had set in once the sun had risen. It was a sickness like none she had seen on the Arc. Ripped into the bodies of the young, the old and the strong. It had no preference and warriors, children, and villagers were falling ill with it. Bodies tearing themselves apart. Muscles aching, the blonde hitches up her horse, tying her medical supplies down as Anya walks up to her. "When will you be back?" The Chieftain/Tribe leader's eyes the horse as it shifts into the blonde's hands.
Clarke ties down the bag full of herbs. fingers deft and gaze full of a weary worry. "I don't know. Dani received word from Ton D.C, the healer Nyko is requesting me. If it's spreading this fast." The blonde shakes her head before sighing. "Make sure everyone here wears cloth over their nose and mouth. If it's air-born that can hopefully prevent some of the spread." She pulls her hair back from her face, quickly twisting it and tying it down. "Keep our supplies full of the seaweed. My apprentice will know what to do." Clarke's lips twitch. "Don't scare him to much."
Anya closed her eyes briefly, as if asking the god why she dealt with the blonde and her ever challenging apprentice. "He is not afraid of me."
"You stormed into the hut with that look on his face." Clarke smiles ad she pulls herself up onto her mount, fingers brushing along his neck in a calming manner. "He sliced open his hand. Be careful, he's all you have for now."
Raid rides over on his own horse, shifting in the saddle he nods a Anya. "Be swift and safe on your journey." Brown eyes bore into Clarke before shifting to Raid. The man nods in understanding and then the two on horseback are racing out of the gate and riding fast to Ton D.C.
They are miles into their journey, allowing the to mounts to drink from the river before they are walking towards Ton D.C. "Do you believe you can save them?"
Clarke shifts in her saddle, eyes worriedly taking in the forest. "I don't know what this sickness is. Once I see it i'm hoping I can help them. Figure out what it is." Raid nods, gaze sweeping over the forest as the sun continues to rise in the sky. They would be in Ton D.C soon.
Before they are upon the gates Clarke is pulling a tunic around her head nodding towards Raid. "It could keep you from getting the sickness, most are air-born." He nods, pulling a tunic around his head.
There are weapons aimed at them the second the guards spot faces covered. "Who goes?
Raid holds up his hands. Both the horses shift nervously. "Raid and Clarke, Nyko sent for our healer."
They stare at them suspiciously, arrows threatening to loose. "Why are your faces covered?"
Raid sits taller in the saddle as Clarke shifts impatiently. "The sickness spreads through the air. These will keep us from getting the sickness."
The men eye them before nodding and the gate is opened. Slowly they make their way through and Clarke slides off the horse, grabbing her bags and untying them. "Where's the healer's hut?" She barks to them, loading herself down with bags. One of the guards motions to a large hut with car doors as a wall. The blonde pushes open the door and just stares at the inside. Even with the cloth over her face she can smell the sickness. Sweat, blood, vomit, feces and what can only be death. The man offers her his hand, a spiral tattoo, dark blue, across his right eye. Clarke offers up her forearm, the one painted in the blue hue of a healers.
The second he spots the mark and grips her forearm he relaxes. "Thank you for coming. I have never seen a sickness this bad. I have kept their fevers down but they keep rising and they go to sleep and never wake up."
Clarke motions to one of the patients and the man nods. With permission the blonde steps forward, placing the back of her hand against the boys head. It is hot, scalding so, to the touch. Her brain races through possibilities. High fever could be meningitis but his neck wasn't stiff. She pulls open his mouth, it is dry from lack of water, but his gums are mostly healthy. His eyes are worn and broken in their unconscious state. She sighs. "I don't see how this is different than a normal cold, but normal colds don't kill like this. The fever is higher than normal. Could be a mutated virus." Her fingers brush along the boy's hair as she looks around the room, running through parts in her brain when suddenly one of the younger children in the room begins to seize.
Nyko pulls the child from the bed, resting him on the floor, waiting for the seizing to stop. Clarke falls to her knees by the barely six summer-old child. "Get a hot bath, as hot as his skin is now."
Nyko stares at her in confusion and wary wonder. "What are you doing?"
"Hurry. We need to get his fever down quickly, tossing him in cold water would lead to another seizure that could damage his brain." Nyko nods at the blonde words, running outside and ordering warriors around until there is a tub heating in the healers tent. "Tell the other villagers to cover their mouth and nose with cloths and to cough into their elbows." The man nods, relaying the message as Clarke feels the water and then strips the young child down into his under garment. She climbs into the tub, wincing at the heat as she pulls the boy to her chest to keep him from sinking into the water and drowning. "Do this will all the others. Place them in the baths as hot as their skin, let it cool. It will bring their fevers down safer and more quickly. Force them to drink water and tea, no matter how much they spit it back up."
Nyko scrambles for more tubs when a warrior walks in, gaze on Clarke, dark eyes "You are the sky clan healer."
"I am Anya's tribe now. Woods Clan." Clarke looks to the woman, hair cropped short to her head and tattoo across a scared cheek and curling around her right eye.
The woman scowls at her. "Skaikru em Skaikru."
"Ai laik Trigedakru." Clarke spits out as slowly the water begins to cool, the small child's head rest against her chest, small puffs of air letting her know he was still alive.
Nyko comes in, many other warriors carrying tub. He dips his head in respect and Clarke recognizes the look. The woman is the Chief of Ton D.C. "If they can hold themselves in the water let them sit alone, if they can't another needs to be in with them."
Nyko orders most of the warriors around and the Chief watches them, mostly Clarke with suspicion. They climb out of the water for a few hours before setting the person back in once the fever came back. The young six year old pukes all over Clarke, tea and water spluttering all over her face and chest. She pulls of the tunic from her head, tying her hair up and stripping down until she is in just pants and a tank top. She shushes the boy as he cries fitfully, smooths her hand along his head and he sits up, clinging to her before she is moving him back to the water.
A warrior with more scars on his skin than unblemished skin sits in one of the tubs, only in undergarments as he holds another man to his chest. Unconscious and pale with a fever. Clarke holds the child up until Nyko steps closer to hold him above the water. The blonde walks to the two men in the too small tub, feeling the water. It is growing cold to the touch and the man supporting the other is shivering yet not speaking.
Clarke feels the sick man's head and sighs in relief. "His fever broke. Wrap him in blankets and place him by the fire." The other man nods, cradling the man to his chest as Clarke moves around the ten tubs. Rotating people when needed and forcing tea and water down their throats. More than once she ends up with tea and water expurged back onto her and sick and weary eyes watching her in apology and weakness. She just wipes her face clean and continues. This continues for three days of constants baths to bring down fevers. Nyko passes on the knowledge to other villages until Murphy comes tearing into the camp seven days after Clarke had left her own camp. His eyes are wild when he finds Clarke. "Anya's sick. We managed to keep the sickness out but a warrior came back and now both are sick."
Clarke stands quickly, nodding to Nyko who grips her forearm tightly. "Mochof Klok."
Clarke smiles and nods before moving to her horse, Murphy's own is panting from exertion and Raid is climbing up on his own. They leave quickly, tearing through the forest with a mission in mind.
The ride seems to take forever. "It hits quickly. Within the first day the fever is high enough to kill." Clarke speaks lowly and Raid urges his horse to run quicker. Move faster. Get home sooner. The gate opens hours later and the night had fallen. Raid grabs a tub from the bath house, carrying the heavy metal frame quickly into the healers tent where Anya leans over a bucket, retching loudly. The warrior in the other cot groans and clutches his stomach as sweat mats to his head. "Get another tub for him Raid."
The man nods and Murphy begins lugging water into the first tub as Clarke places her hand on the warriors head and then Anya's. They were both burning with a fever. Her apprentice shifts on his feet. "I gave them tea but the spit it right out."
Clarke smiles in a calming manner, setting her hand on his shoulder. "You did well. Help me strip them to their undergarments, then get another fire going and blankets. We'll need hot tea." The boy nods, hands calming with the tasks and heart no longer racing in fear of doing wrong. Clarke strips Anya of sweat soaked outerwear until she is finally down to a breast binder and underwear, she slips the woman's arm over her shoulder as Raid climbs into the other tub, pulling the sick warrior to his bare chest in the too hot water. Clarke helps a stumbling sick Anya into the other too hot water filled tub and then leans back, pulling the delirious woman into her chest. The woman struggles and mumbles under her breath, head falling to the side with sickness. Clarke pats the sick woman's hair back. "You're fine. Just relax."
Anya mumbles quietly, voice thick with fever. "Your tea is horrible." Clarke lets out a quiet laugh at those words.