Chapter Ten: Option One, Two, or Three
Judging from the fact that she opened her eyes to stars, Isobel knew she hadn't been asleep very long. It took a moment for her to realise what had woken her, and her eyes widened further at seeing a pod burning through the sky. The whole came seemed to have noticed it, as the noise from below was that of curiosity and joy. For all of Bellamy's talk, these kids had missed their parents and others on The Ark more than they'd let on.
"Check it out!" voices from below gasped excitedly. Watching the decent from her vantage point, Isobel could see that the ship was rather small – more of a pod, really. Barely enough for one person, but a supply drop was a possibility. It would mean Monty was successful in his attempts at contact.
Quickly, the redhead scurried out of her nest and down the side of the dropship, already looking around the group for Monty, or Jasper – she'd take Clarke if it meant getting some answers. She spotted Octavia just as her boots hit the ground and began to push though the gathering teens to get to her.
"Bellamy, get out here!" Octavia yelled, glancing up at the falling pod as he stepped out from his tent. "There," she pointed.
"They're coming to help us," grinned one of Bellamy's boys – Jones, she thought his name was. He was shirtless, his dark chest displayed unabashedly despite the chill in the air, which the redhead thought must have been becoming something of a trend when she noticed that Bellamy was also without a top.
"Who do you think is in there?" asked Isobel when she joined them, standing between Octavia and Jones, and ignoring the two girls leaving Bellamy's tent wrapped up in blankets. Something about the sight rubbed her the wrong way, but she pushed the feeling aside as quickly as it came. It was none of her business what he did with his free time.
"Who cares?" scoffed Jones. "Now we can kick some grounder ass!"
"Please tell me they brought down some shampoo," sighed Roma, eyeing the pod longingly while everyone else cheered and laughed over their presumed reinforcements.
"That thing's tiny," she considered. "Not big enough for a lot of people – one, two at most. Could be supplies?"
"So, shampoo?" asked Bree, echoing the hope in Roma's previous statement.
"Idiot," muttered Jones, shaking his head. His comment was quiet, but just loud enough for Isobel to hear. She snorted, glancing at him, and he smirked back.
"Probably not," Octavia answered her slowly, catching on to Isobel's train of thought. "Maybe food, clothes, y'know; things we actually need."
"Weapons, if we're lucky," she sighed, frowning.
"You really think they care enough to arm us?" Jones snorted. "More likely to be a message from the chancellor."
"Yeah," the redhead agreed, rolling her eyes. "I can guess at what it'd say; if you could all take it upon yourselves to cuff each other to the dropship for easy arrests when we get there, we'd be awfully appreciative."
"Heck, why not an all out deathmatch?" he added, grinning down at her. "Only ten you of get to go free – battle it out."
"Are you two done?" asked Octavia, looking between them with an odd look, briefly glancing at her brother. The redhead shrugged, ignoring the look. "I'm just glad they're actually sending something."
"Why, though?" frowned Isobel. "Did Monty make contact?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. It would make the most sense – The Ark knowing they're alive and sending supplies to keep them until the rest of the people could follow.
"No," replied the brunette. "Fried the wristbands."
"So, they think we're all dead, on an uninhabitable planet," summarised Isobel, glancing back towards where the pod went. "Now this really makes no sense."
"I'm gonna round everyone up," Octavia said with a nod, still excited at the thought of something from The Ark landing. She jogged away, the rest of the crowd chattering away about what they thought it was.
"So, you're the wildcat, then?" asked Jones before the redhead could follow her friend. She raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed at the statement.
"One person called me that – it's not a name, or a title, and I don't much care for it," she informed him blankly. "I'm Isobel."
"Jones," he said, holding out a hand for her to shake. She took it, and he shook her hand gently before letting go.
"Just Jones?" she asked, tilting her head.
"For now," he shrugged. "Just Isobel?"
"For now," she shot back, smiling a little. "I wonder how far Octavia got rounding everyone up."
"I'll go check," he told her, half-turning. "You coming?"
"Nah," she replied, shaking her head. "Gonna check in with boss-man," the redhead told him, nodding towards the silent Blake brother.
"Alright," Jones half-grinned, fulling turning to follow after Octavia while Isobel moved towards Bellamy.
"Hey, what do you think of all this?" she asked, noting that he had been very quiet so far. Glancing up at him, she saw look in the look of terror in his eyes, but he carefully schooled his expression when he noticed her.
"What?" he grunted, face falling into a sneer automatically. Isobel took a reflexive step back and shook her head. His sneer fell instantly, but she wasn't looking at him anymore.
"Forget it," she sighed, seeing Roma and Bree standing closer behind him now, both eyeing her – though Bree only seemed to be impatient to get back in the warm tent, while Roma was outright scowling. "I guess you're busy."
Before he could offer anything back, Isobel turned and headed into camp, directing her steps back to the dropship. Though now running on very little sleep, and a headwound that was just starting to announce itself again in the form of a dull headache, Isobel knew that this new development would require immediate action in some way or another. Whether that was going to the pod or working up defences against any grounders they may encounter who were going there themselves, everyone was going to be busy for the next few hours.
She still needed to hunt for Murphy, and this pod landing could be the perfect time. With the grounders distracted and heading towards the landing site, she could sneak the opposite direction, to the cliff where Bellamy banished him. The timing almost seemed too perfect, but Isobel knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.
She could hear the leader behind her, mobilising people and barking orders, but she ignored him.
The side of the ship was still cold, and she shuddered as she began climbing the rungs up towards her nest. She could hear Octavia's voice below, telling people to tool up and be ready, with Jones echoing her to anyone who didn't listen immediately, and mentally agreed. Only, her objective wouldn't be the pod.
Grabbing her pipe, a small knife, and the jacket Wells had scavenged for her, Isobel made sure to wrap herself up warm and secure the weapons. She searched around a little before sighing and grabbing one of her blankets, tearing a thin strip from the edge. Using this, she gathered her hair into a quick braid, tying off the end.
Feeling slightly readier for wandering off into the night, Isobel began her decent from the top of the ship. When her boots hit the earth again, she took a deep breath to prepare herself. It was cold, it was dark, and she would be alone – only the thought of the grounders learning their weaknesses stopped her from abandoning the quest altogether.
She thought she might have glimpsed Finn over the heads of the other delinquents and thought for a moment about asking him to join her. While they didn't get along great, she trusted him to have her back, and he was much better at tracking than she was. Then again, they might need him to find that pod – not that the crash wasn't a beacon to the most novice of trackers, but Clarke would likely ask him to go with her when they left.
"Isobel!" called Octavia from behind her, jogging towards the redhead. "Good, you got your stuff," she breathed, nodding to the pipe. "We're just about ready to roll out."
"Actually, I'm not going," she told the brunette, who frowned at the statement.
"What're you talking about?" she asked. "You got your pipe, where else would you be –? No," she said as soon as she caught on.
"Octavia, I need to go!" the redhead insisted.
"Go?" frowned her friend. "Alone? It's still dark out."
"I know, but the cliff is the opposite direction from where the pod went. It's as safe as it'll ever be," she explained, seeing Octavia's eyes narrow.
"Safe? In the dark, in a place we still don't know well, with people out there who have already proven they want us dead?" she listed, crossing her arms. "Oh yeah, it's a real picnic. Not to mention, you're still injured! With a head wound!"
"You know what I meant," Isobel sighed. "I was going to see if I could get Finn to go with me, but he's better use to you guys in finding the pod. I know how to find the cliff from here – I'll be fine, and my head isn't even hurting right now."
"No," she denied firmly. "You are not going out there alone, in the dark, to search for someone Bellamy and Clarke banished. Are you insane?"
"Yes, but that might be the head wound."
"Not funny," she scoffed, grabbing Isobel by the wrist and dragging her towards Bellamy's tent. "You're coming with the rest of us, or you're staying here."
"You're not my mother," muttered Isobel, feeling more like a scolded child than she had in years.
"No," Octavia agreed, stopping and turning on her. "I'm your friend. I want you to be safe, not dead on the forest floor somewhere. Do you know what it would do to me, Jasper, and Monty if we lost you?"
"Don't guilt trip me," she hissed.
"It's what I'm best at," the brunette smirked, beginning walking again, still tugging Isobel after her. "Like hell I'm gonna stop."
"If it cleared the ridge, it's probably near the lake," they heard Jones say as they made their way inside Bellamy's tent.
"We should get moving," Octavia interrupted, nudging Isobel between her and Jones so she wouldn't think of sneaking off. He glanced down at her, offering a brief smile, before focusing again. "Everyone's ready."
"No one's going anywhere," decided Bellamy blankly, arms folded and frowning down at the map of the terrain. "Not while it's dark. It isn't safe," he added as explanation. Reasonable, and Isobel would agree, only she had seen his look of fear and knew he had ulterior motives. "We'll head out at first light. Pass the word."
His boys filed out, Jones the last to go. He winked down at Isobel as he passed her and she raised an eyebrow, going to trail after them. Octavia caught her arm before she could. The brunette stepped up in front of Bellamy before he could leave, too.
"Everyone for 100 miles saw this thing come down," she said, stating the obvious. "What if the grounders get to it first?" she asked. For a moment, he looked conflicted, and Octavia continued, "Bell, we should go now."
"I said we wait until sunrise," he finalised quietly, moving past the girls and out of the tent. Octavia sighed, frustrated, and followed after him. So frustrated, in fact, that she forgot to drag Isobel with her.
She stood for a moment, waiting until she knew Octavia was gone. When she heard steps outside the tent, she thought she must have waited too long and missed her chance, that Octavia had remembered and come back. Isobel relaxed marginally when she saw it was only Roma and Bree, presumably coming back for their clothes.
"Hey," she greeted them. "Don't mind me, I was just leaving."
"Were you here for Bellamy?" asked Bree, raising an eyebrow and adjusting the blanket around her slightly, pulling her hair out of it. The redhead watched her do this, wondering if Bellamy preferred blondes, but she shook off the thought; a glance at Roma corrected the thought, anyway, as she was brunette.
"Technically, I guess," she shrugged, feeling her braid slink back over her shoulder – maybe Bellamy didn't like redhead? She bit her cheek, ignoring her how line of thought. "I was with Octavia – just wanted to know what was going on with the pod. Sorry it took so long; must have been cold out there," she added, not intending offence, but just stating a fact. They were both wearing only sheets, after all.
"It's not warm, that's for sure," agreed Bree, moving around the redhead and towards the clothes Isobel assumed were hers. Roma remained still, scowling.
"I'll get out of your way," she said, holding nothing against the girls despite the ugly twisting in her stomach when she thought of them at Bellamy.
"Good," sneered Roma, looking down at the smaller teen.
"Okay, bye, then," Isobel said, not wanting to rise to the snotty tone. It seemed that Roma wasn't done, though, as she stepped in the way.
"Just so you know," she snarled, "you don't stand a chance with Bellamy."
"Consider me informed," she nodded. "I really have to go."
"He will never be interested in a violent little runt like you," she continued, wanting a reaction and gritting her teeth when she didn't get one.
"Well, you would know," agreed Isobel, looking around Roma at the exit. "Now, I really have to go. Move or I will move you," she warned. Rolling her eyes, Roma stepped out of the way, heading back towards the bed with Bree at her heels.
Outside the tent, Isobel paused. She glanced back, knowing that two attractive women were currently warming Bellamy's bed – two women he chose. She shook off the thought, exhaled sharply to try and remove the cold feeling that had settled in her chest.
"Nerves," she muttered to herself, looking out at the dark, foreboding forest on the other side of their wall. "It's just nerves. Bellamy can do want he wants – I don't care."
"We're leaving at first light," Jones informed Harper and Monroe as he made his way through the camp. They nodded and he looked up, spotting Isobel outside Bellamy's tent, staring into the forest. He grinned, heading towards her.
"Hey, man," Miller intercepted him. Jones turned to face him. "We moving out, or what?"
"No, going at first light," Jones correct. "Bellamy says it'll be safer."
"Can't argue with that," shrugged the other teen while Jones scoffed.
"Tell that to Bellamy's sister," he snorted. Shaking his head, Miller gave a brief nod before going to help spread the word.
Jones turned again, hoping to catch Isobel. When he looked over, she was gone.
{-}
It was darker in the trees, though she should have expected that. She could still hear the noise of voices from the camp, but they were growing fainter with each step. Soon, the only sounds were her breathing, the ground stirring under her feet, and the wind rustling through the trees. There was the occasional animal, mostly birds, but they were few and far between.
She was still some ways from the cliff, and she doubted Murphy would risk coming back towards camp. Despite this, Isobel began looking for any sign of disturbance, of people – even if it wasn't Murphy, it could still be grounders.
Her tracking skills were amateur at best, as she had been pulled out of school long before they began learning Earth Skills. Trying to remember what Finn had done and wishing all the while that she had asked him to come with her, she searched for broken twigs and footprints in the earth.
Luck was on her side – there have been no rain. Any tracks should still be apparent and not washed away. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be any tracks, regardless of the weather. She pressed on, not willing to give up so soon with so much at stake. Murphy knew too much, and from what she had seen, she wouldn't be surprised to know torture was well within the grounder's repertoire. Despite what Bellamy was feeding everyone, they were mostly defenceless, and Murphy knew that.
She knew their ex-guard leader would never reverse the banishment but wondered maybe if she could set Murphy up in one of the caves near camp. She could make sure he had food, and he would be close enough that their minimal defences might keep grounders away. In time, he could even return to camp, no hard done and no dangerous killers aware of how weak the delinquents were.
Isobel shook the plan from her head, knowing it was unlikely, but more so pointless if she never found Murphy.
The trek was proving to be further than she had anticipated, and every noise or movement set her on edge. The slightly hint of the wind rustling the leaves was enough to have her reaching for her pipe, and she wished that she had listened to Octavia – doing this alone at night was not just stupid, it was insane. Still, she pushed on, only hoping she lived long enough to allow her friend the chance to boast.
Her legs were starting to burn by the time she made it to the cliff. Predictably, Murphy was nowhere to be seen – honestly, she would have been a little disappointed if she had found him there, since that would have been the dumbest choice and she really expected better from him. She took in her surroundings, the kicked-up dirt and footprints leading everywhere, and realised that this would be a lot more difficult than she'd thought.
Wishing more than ever she'd enrolled Finn, Isobel looked around for any solo footprints leading away from the cliff. There was a group of prints leaving in the direction of camp – safe to assume they belonged to Bellamy and Clarke, and the people they led back. Smaller prints led to the cliff, and then didn't lead away again – Charlotte, her mind supplied. She looked away.
Worryingly, there were also three sets of prints leading to the cliff from the opposite direction of camp, and then back in that direction – two sets were deeper set, and then the third was between them, slightly elongated and scuffed, as though they were being dragged. A cold stone dropped in her stomach as her worst fears can to life.
Grounders had Murphy.
Swearing under her breath, she weighted up her options. Follow the tracks, risk her own capture and subsequent death, but also have the possibility of saving Murphy from the people who speared Jasper. Option two, go back to camp and admit defeat.
Moving closer to the cliff, Isobel glanced over the edge. She couldn't imagine having the courage – or desperation – to do what Charlotte did. Of course, the child had a heavy cloak of guilt dragging her down, too. Perhaps if cliffs had been available when she was Charlotte's age and had just killed her father, Isobel would have made the same choice. She couldn't imagine how it felt to know you were responsible for the death of a good person.
Shaking her head – which she realised she was doing a lot recently to banish her own thoughts – Isobel groaned, rubbing the bump on her head tenderly. Another good point Octavia made; she shouldn't have gone to the forest alone, in the dark, with a head wound. It seemed she was just making one stupid decision after another.
Octavia would be beaming when she told her.
Isobel stood in the middle of the tracks, right where Charlotte stood, and tried to make her decision. To follow or to flee.
Good sense said flee, but no one had ever accused her of having that.
Nodding to herself, the redhead set off following what she presumed to be the grounder tracks. She hurried out of the clearing, hoping that the cover of the trees would somewhat take the edge of the paranoid feeling she had of being watched.
The sound of voice caused a pit for form in her stomach and she froze, not recognising the words spoken. Grounders? Out here?
Taking a few steps back, trying to keep as quiet as possible, Isobel hoped she could get back to the other side of the clearing without being noticed. It was a long trip to the camp from there, but there were no grounders. At least, none she noticed.
Stupid! If this was the way to their settlement, of course they were coming this way to go towards the pod landing!
Fear crept up her neck and she shook, wanting more than anything to go back in time and never leave the dropship again.
Option one, follow the tracks, was bust. She only hoped she'd survive long enough for option two.
A twig snapped behind her, too close to be one of the skittish animals still living in the woods, and she whirled around, pulling out her pipe and swinging. Her wrist was caught.
Option three; die right now.