Clarke P.O.V.
Every breath hurt like someone was stabbing her chest. They had been running for so long that adrenaline and fear were the only factors keeping her going. They ran into the herd on their way back from town. The supply run had started out so good when they found a hidden apartment which seemed untouched, in which they found a lot more supplies than they usually came upon these days, but already during lunch time Clarke noticed that something seemed off. There were slightly more walkers in town than usual, which was not concerning in itself, but something about it worried her, like a dark foreboding. Even the air seemed heavier and more humid.
They tried to hurry on their way back; Lexa and Monty sharing Clarke's disquieted feeling. Halfway back, Lexa stopped in her tracks and lifted her right hand, a gesture meant to shush Clarke and Monty's quiet conversation. That's when Clarke heard it, too. It sounded like a low murmur, multiplied by a hundred. Very quiet, yet when she focused on it, it was distinguishable. Clarke recognized the sound, knew what it meant, yet her mind refused to believe it until she saw it. She followed Lexa, who was carefully moving towards the trees to her left, which marked the spot where the ground was highest; in order to see what was on the other side of the dip. What she saw froze the blood in her veins and confirmed what she knew she would see the moment she heard the sound: walkers. Not just a few but a herd – so large she couldn't make out where it ended or where it began. She knew she should move but she could not tear her eyes away from them. One of them was wearing a torn suit, the skin that was visible underneath rotten, his eyes empty. Her eyes continued to scan the crowd until they found a child with a gaping wound on the left side of her face, her unicorn pajamas covered in dried blood. The sight broke Clarke's heart. So young. She wondered whether the girl's parents were still alive. Whether they had to watch their daughter die or if they were still looking for her, or if it was the other way around, if the girl had lost her parents and was left defenseless against the walkers.
She was pulled back into reality by Monty, who was grabbing her arm and wanted to slowly pull her away and out of sight, but it was too late. A couple of the walkers on the near edge of the herd had picked up their scent and turned toward them. For a second, Clarke found herself holding direct eye contact with the biter in the suit. Underneath all the hunger for flesh, could he still see her? Was he aware he once was a person just like she was? She could not ponder the thought for long, because the walkers started moving into their direction – and as herds do, others soon followed the few that had changed direction, and so they had started heading toward Clarke, Lexa and Monty. That's when the three of them started running.
They reached the small clearing and by the time the cottage came into sight, Clarke was trying to ignore the stabbing pain in her lungs and sides which begged her to stop. Instead, she started shouting, trying to get her friends' attention and praying that everyone would be in the hut and not out fishing or otherwise. Soon the door opened and she could see Bellamy standing in the doorframe, holding a shotgun which pointed in her direction.
"RUN!" she screamed.
She could see Bellamy slight lowering the gun, but he did not move, her words didn't seem to resonate with him. She tried to shout more, but the pain in her lungs did not allow her to spend any extra air on screaming – everything was needed to just keep her running. Lexa reached the stairs leading up to the door first and easily jumped up, the run seemingly not having worn her out as much as it did Clarke. Lexa was not even through the door when she started giving out instructions.
"You have one minute to grab everything you can, we have to leave now!" her voice was calculated and controlled, she might as well have ordered them to prepare dinner. She didn't stop to explain more; instead she moved insight immediately to gather her things. Clarke came in next; Monty came in last and took a moment to lean forward, his hands placed on his thighs, breathing heavily; the run having worn him out visibly as well.
"What the hell is going on?" Raven asked. Clarke moved around the room following Lexa's lead and gathering everything that might be important. Everyone looked at her wide eyed, except Murphy who was spread out on the couch, pretending not to care.
"There is a herd coming this way. We have to leave now!" Clarke answered.
"Can't we sit it out here? Let them pass?" Zoey asked.
"No," Clarke said while grabbing her backpack and filling it with all the medicine from the medicine cabinet before moving on to the kitchen. "There's too many. This cabin doesn't stand a chance. They're coming."
There was not much time for discussion. Lincoln was the first person to move. He followed Clarke and Lexas's example and gathered his things. Only then did the others finally seem to wake up from their momentary stupor, and soon everyone - including Murphy - was moving about the small cabin; grabbing clothes, food, guns and stuffing them hurriedly into their bags.
By the time they started moving out of the cabin, which had been home for the group for many months, the first walkers had already found their way into the clearing.
"What the hell.." Murphy exclaimed, his voice still controlled, making him sound like he was commenting on something trivial.
"Run!" Bellamy instructed. "And make sure to stay with the group!"
Everybody started moving through the trees behind the cabin, the opposite direction of which the walkers were coming. They had flashlights, but not enough for everyone, causing some of them to run, almost blindly, behind the one's with lights.
They had been running for ten minutes when the first of them started slowing down. Clarke turned around to shine her flashlight behind, illuminating Monty and Murphy who have fallen back a bit.
"Come on, we don't have time to slow down. They're still close!" she scolded them with a tone that was almost begging, worried about not being able to outrun the herd.
"They're not as fast as we are. We have some time to catch our breath," Murphy replied simply. Clarke wanted to reply, tell him he's wrong, but she knew there was no arguing with John Murphy. Once he had made up his mind, there was hardly any convincing him otherwise.
"You are slowing the group down, Murphy. We can't afford to slow down," Bellamy reminded him from up front. He had taken the lead of the group, moving quickly through the now pitch-black forest. Apart from their heavy breathing and the sounds of crushing leaves and branches underneath their feet, they were surrounded by the eerie sounds of the night: the howling of an owl, the wind rustling in the trees, an animal calling for a mate far off in the distance. All these sounds only added to the goosebumps that had already formed on Clarke's neck the moment she heard the walkers for the first time that afternoon.
"Jesus, Blake. Calm down, you sound like..", but the end of the sentence was muffled by a thumping sound. Clarke stopped in her tracks and turned around, shining her flashlight in Murphy's direction. He was pressed against a tree, struggling to keep a biter away from his throat.
"Walker!" Clarke yelled, but Octavia was quicker. In three steps she had covered the distance to Murphy and buried her machete deep in the walkers' skull, its dead weight dropping down at her feet. Even the usually-so-cool John Murphy looked surprised.
"Damn."
"Where did that come from?" Zoey asked. Clarke turned around and made eye-contact with the redhead for a moment, concern and fear visible on both of their faces.
"Shit!" Finn shouted, and Clarke quickly mimicked his movement and shone her flashlight into the direction the walker came from. There were more. In the few seconds Clarke had been illuminating that particular side of the forest, five more walkers had moved into sight.
"Run!"
They started running again, but after not even 30 seconds they encountered more walkers in front of them. Both Raven and Zoey, now up front, started shooting and changed directions to escape the oncoming biters.
"Don't shoot if you can help it! It's gonna draw more of them!" Lincoln insisted, but it was helpless. There were too many, now moving in from two directions, and with only two machetes among all of them, guns were the only hope they had of fighting them. Clarke took out her handgun and started shooting the female walker who appeared just inches in front of her. There's too many of them! she kept thinking while moving forward, shooting oncoming walkers as she went. When she turned around she already could not make out most of her group anymore, only single bulbs of light, farther out than she'd like them to be. Shit. She tried to change direction to move back toward the rest of her friends, but there were just too many walkers between her and them.
Come on, Clarke, think! She scolded herself mentally while moving through the dark forest, trying to escape the deadly threat. Another walker appeared in front of her, but when she held up her gun to shoot it, she found the magazine empty. Panicked, she moved backwards, struggling to find another weapon in her bag, when her back hit a tree and before she knew it, the walker was on her. She had to use both arms and all of her strength to keep it off her, resulting in the flashlight dropping out of her hand, now illuminating the forest floor. She could not see the walkers face, but could tell the direction in which its head was moving by the sound it made. The deep and hungry grunting, desperate for flesh. By the sound of it, she assumed this used to be a man. Clarke desperately tried to think of a way to get out of its grasp when she was blinded by a light which was pointed directly at her face. She had to squint and move her face away from the light, and suddenly she was relieved of the pressure that the walker put on her just a few seconds ago. When she moved her head back, she could see the bulb of light shining on the walker which was now lying on the floor, put down from a stab wound to the head. She carefully used her hand to shield her eyes from the light while trying to see who killed it.
"You really should be more careful, princess."
Clarke let out a relieved sigh - Finn's voice immediately calming her down. He was with Monty, and the three of them carefully moved on, disappearing deeper into the forest. The further they moved, the less walkers they encountered. To avoid noise they used knives to kill biters, which Monty and Finn had grabbed when leaving the cabin. Clarke had changed the magazine of her gun with a full one from her bag, keeping it in her hand to use in case she had to act quickly, but fortunately she did not have to. When dawn came, they had not encountered a walker in an hour.
"We should settle down and get some rest," Finn said when they came upon a little cave, just big enough to fit the three of them and hide them from plain sight.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Clarke asked, the events of the last hours having left her deeply unsettled, restless.
"Clarke, we have to sleep at some point. Now is as good a time as any, we haven't seen a walker in some time."
"Finn is right," Monty agreed. "I can take first watch."
Clarke tried to settle into a comfortable position on the floor of the cave, but eventually settled for lying on her back. She wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, she was too concerned for her friends.
"You okay there, princess?" Finn used the nickname lightly, something only he called her. He had settled in next to her, their arms almost touching.
"Yes," Clarke stated simply, turning her head away from him.
"Come on, Clarke. You can't act like this forever."
She turned her head back to look at him. His expression was light, but his eyes revealed he was much more serious than he would like to let on, like this was something that had been on his mind for a while.
"What do you want me to do, Finn?" Clarke asked, quietly but almost exasperated.
A few weeks after the outbreak, Clarke and Finn had found themselves split up from the group after another unexpected attack by a group of walkers. They had been apart from the group for two weeks when it happened. They did not believe they would find the others, they had found an old bottle of scotch, and even though Clarke had never been a big fan of drinking, she let Finn convince her otherwise. They had found shelter in an old abandoned building, locked themselves up in a room, and emptied the bottle. Before she knew it, she found herself holding on to him, his hands in her hair, their mouths entangled in a desperate kiss. The morning after she felt as bad as she never had before in her life. Not just because of the pounding headache, but because she had slept with the boyfriend of one of her best friends. And even though she had always found herself being attracted to Finn, and even though she thought she would not see Raven again, she felt disgusted with herself. A few days later the others found them, and even though Finn was acting normal around her, if not even more attentive to her than before, Clarke could not bring herself to look him or Raven in the eye, the guilt weighing on her too heavily.
And now she found herself lying next to him in the cave, his gaze focused on her, his dark eyes looking straight into hers.
"Clarke..."
"No, Finn!" she interrupted him. "I can't do this. Please don't do this."
"Clarke," he started again, his voice softer this time. "You can't even look me in the eyes."
"Because I'm ashamed of myself!" Clarke tried to keep her voice down, but the desperation she was feeling was boiling up. "I wish that night never happened."
She stared at the wall for a moment before turning back to look at Finn. His expression had changed, he looked like she had physically slapped him with her words.
"I don't," he stated quietly.
"What?" Clarke asked, taken aback.
"Of course I hate myself for cheating on Raven, but that night...that wasn't just the alcohol. That was something I would have also wanted if I would have been sober."
Clarke found herself at a loss for words. Of course she had daydreamed about scenarios where Finn and her could've been something, scenarios where he wasn't with Raven but with her, but to hear him say it felt wrong. Yes, she was in love with him, at this point she could not deny it any more, but she did not want it to happen like this. She couldn't do this to her friend. Her conscience would not let her.
"Finn, I can't..." but before she could finish her sentence she was interrupted by movement outside.
Monty leaned into the opening of the cave. "Guys, there is someone here."
"Walker or human?"
"I'm not sure yet."
Clarke and Finn grabbed their weapons and quietly followed Monty outside. The sun had risen now and it seemed like it would be a lovely day. The sky was blue and there were hardly any clouds in sight. It seemed like nothing had happened last night, like the sky was mocking them, like the weather should somehow reflect the dread they were feeling. The gun felt heavier in Clarke's hand than it did last night.
They carefully moved into the open and crouched behind a boulder at the cave's entrance. She could hear it too now, movements. She tried to push the conversation with Finn out of her mind and concentrate on the threat in front of her. The movement seemed to be coming their way, and soon they could make out voices as well.
"Voices," Clarke said.
"Maybe it's some of us.." Monty suggested carefully.
Finn got up slowly and started moving into the forest, toward the noise.
"What are you doing?!" Clarke hissed, but Finn either didn't hear her or he ignored her. He moved carefully, his gun raised, his body language showing he was alert. He kept moving like this for a few more steps, but then he visibly relaxed. He dropped his gun, and when he turned his head toward Monty and Clarke there was a big smile on his face.
He turned towards the source of the voices again. "Bellamy!"
Clarke and Monty quickly got up and followed Finn. When they reached where he was standing they could see them too; it was Bellamy, Murphy and Octavia. Clarke felt a weight lifting off of her, relieved there were reunited with at least some of the others.
After updating each other about what happened to each group, they decided to stay at the cave and get some rest before moving on. Clarke and Bellamy took first watch, both of them too anxious to sleep. They were silent for a long time, being distracted by their own problems.
"You okay?" Bellamy eventually broke the silence, looking over at Clarke from where he was sitting, his back casually leaning against the boulder that was in front of the cave. Clarke was sitting on the forest floor, leaning against a tree, close to where he was sitting.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"You're a terrible liar," he smiled.
Clarke felt a pang of guilt. Was it that obvious?
"Okay," she smiled back at him. "I'm not fine. But I will be."
They were silent for a minute and for the first time since they took watch, she got a good look at her friend. He looked tired, his usually handsome face worn out and worried. The fingers of his right hand kept impatiently tapping his thigh.
"Bellamy," she said and he looked up at her again. "What's on your mind?"
He held her gaze before looking back at the trees, into the forest. "It just.. It feels wrong to stop."
"Hey," Clarke began. "I know you want to find Zoey, but we can't do that if we're all on the verge of passing out. We have to get some rest," she said with a smile, trying to encourage him, even though she felt he was right. She too felt trapped staying in one place.
He looked at her again, and for only one moment he allowed his eyes to reflect the worry he was feeling.
"I can't lose her again," he said quietly.
"I know," Clarke answered, feeling at a loss for words. Bellamy looked back toward the cave, seeing if anyone had woken up, and when he turned back to Clarke his expression was stern again, the vulnerability had left his eyes. She had these moments with him sometimes. Sometimes, he let his guard down when something was on his mind, and she always appreciated when he did.
They were silent again for a while, and eventually the others from the cave started waking up and coming out.
"You guys can go lie down now," Octavia said as she walked out of the cave.
"I'm not tired. I just want to move on when everyone is up," Bellamy said, and added: "Clarke?"
"Yeah, me too actually."
They were on the move again for a good couple of hours when they came upon two small houses. They carefully moved toward the first one, not knowing whether it was inhabited or not. Bellamy went in first, followed by Octavia, Finn and Clarke. Monty and Murphy stayed on the porch to keep watch. The house was small and nicely decorated, but it looked dusty, like no one had inhabited it for a time. They still made sure to check all the rooms, but they found no one.
"See? I told you there would be no one here," Finn turned to the others, smiling, as he opened the door to one of the small hallway closets.
"Finn, watch out!" Clarke yelled, because while Finn had turned around, he failed to see the walker that was locked inside the closet. He turned around but it was too late - Clarke watched in horror as the walker bit deeply into Finn's neck.
"NO!"
Bellamy was closest to Finn and managed to put a bullet in the walkers head - but it was too late. Finn was on the floor, bleeding heavily from the gaping wound in his neck.
"No, no, no, no, Finn! No!" Clarke kept repeating desperately, tears had already started running down her cheeks when she reached him. Her heart was racing and she felt like she had an out-of-body experience. This could not be happening. She knelt down next to him, touching his face, pleading with him not to die.
"I'm sorry.. princess," he choked, but his injury was so bad that she did not even have time to answer him; he had already passed out. Clarke desperately tried to cover the hole in his neck with her hands, but it was useless.
"Clarke...," Octavia started, touching her arm.
"No!" she sobbed. She was not ready to accept that Finn was dead before she could tell him how she felt. She could not accept it.
"Clarke, he's going to turn," Octavia tried again, but Clarke wasn't moving. Her hands, now covered in warm blood, were still on Finn's neck; her tears falling onto his motionless face.
Bellamy knelt down on Finn's other side, carefully moving her hands away from their dead friend.
"I'm sorry," he whispered before taking a knife out of his pocket. Clarke realized what he was about to do.
"No," she said, taking the knife out of his hand. "Let me."
"Are you sure?"
She used her lower arm to wipe the tears from her face. "Yes."
She tried to pull herself together, but her hands were shaking when she moved the knife to Finn's head. And before she could change her mind, she drove the knife deep into the skull of the man she loved.
