We had some issues this past week with uploads. I'm not sure why this happened, but it seemed to occur for all stories on the website. So sorry it interfered with ya'lls reading.
Stylo1: I'll address each review individually. 1: I've spoken about this extensively. Look back at my answers to other reviews if you want to know my opinion. 2: Not much happened in that episode, so don't blame me for that. 3: The wristbands were unusable because they all broke at the end of the previous episode. Also, individual survival is different from group survival. Groups are irrelevant, only individuals are important. 4: Lincoln literally got beat half to death in canon. In my opinion he would've died before he gave up the antidote. I don't know anything about languages, so I put in what I thought made sense. 5: I don't say how beautiful nature is, but I do like to describe the surroundings so the reader can envision the scene. I just like to say what's going on, I personally don't really care about nature that much. As to your second point, if you've ever tried to work with a group of people then you'll know that drama is a common occurrence. Not everyone is capable of working to a common goal because people disagree. Also, a pure survival fic would be boring as hell.
PS: None of this is a shot at you. I just want to answer all your reviews in the most logical way possible to clear up misunderstandings.
Kidblow25: Believe it or not, I actually thought about that at the beginning. I just like him with Raven a bit more.
Williams1996: Nope, they won't appreciate that at all.
Finshadow212th: Okay, I'll keep that in mind.
FriggleBerry: Thanks. I'm not usually a fan of those either, but I thought this would work well. If there's one thing I can do in my writing, it's describe events. Fighting is something I'm very familiar with, so there are many details I can focus on.
GODKINGNASH: I'm glad you liked it for the period of time that you did.
Guest: Yes, he does in fact care.
Scurra71900: To be honest I wish I would've written this chapter more like that. Ah well. Though, I promise there will be plenty of reaction to Maynard's abilities and personality later.
Silentmayhem: That could've been fun to have a brawl with the reapers. I'll keep that in mind for later chapters.
Williams1996: Yeah, I got a message about that as well. I'm not too sure what the problem is.
Picking up after the cliff hanger.
This changes everything," Bellamy said excitedly. "No more running from spears. Ready to be a badass Clarke?"
Clarke grabbed the rifle in front of her and held it experimentally. She had never held a gun before in her life. It felt odd to hold such a deadly tool as this, yet it was simultaneously empowering. Clarke had never experienced a sensation like this before.
Inside she smiled at Bellamy's overt joy. They finally had a chance against the grounders, and Bellamy was expressing just how important that was. This levelled the playing field. Now they could defend themselves against an enemy far more skilled than the hundred were.
In that moment of holding the gun, Clarke realized just how valuable a tool this was. Throughout the course of history, the stronger better trained man would win in a fight. With a gun though, self defense was simple. It wasn't complicated and didn't take years to learn. Pretty much anybody could pick up a gun and take care of themselves. The power in her hands was truly incredible and not to be taken lightly.
"Look," Clarke said still slightly hesitant. "I'm not going to fight you on bringing guns back to camp. I know we need them, but don't expect me to like it."
That was the issue. It took no skill to kill someone with a gun, and in an unfocused moment you could accidentally kill someone. Clarke wasn't thrilled about the idea of them just sitting around for people to pick up and use. It wasn't Bellamy or Maynard she was concerned about, it was the rest of the delinquents, the ones who had self-control issues.
"We're lucky the rifles were packed in grease," Bellamy observed. "The fact that they survived means we're not sitting ducks anymore. You need to learn how to do this."
Clarke knew he was right. She made a face of resignation and stepped in front of Bellamy. She lifted the stock awkwardly to her left shoulder.
"So, I just hold it on my shoulder?" Clarke questioned.
"Are you left-eye dominant?" Bellamy asked, a bemused expression gracing his face.
"What?" Clarke asked confused.
"You aim with your dominant eye," Bellamy explained. "Mine is my right, so I hold the stock to my right shoulder."
"What do you mean left-eye dominant?" Clarke questioned further.
Bellamy held his hand out to take the rifle from Clarke. She handed it over, still wondering exactly what it meant to be left eye dominant.
"Ok," Bellamy started. "Hold your finger out in front of your face. Center it over that beam there."
Clarke followed his directions covering the beam with her right finger. With her eyes focused on it, her finger was sort of transparent. She could see the beam, even though her finger covered it.
"Now close your left eye," Bellamy told her.
Clarke did so, noticing that the beam was now covered.
"Now what?" She asked.
"Close your right eye only now," Bellamy said.
As soon as she switched, Clarke saw the beam again with her finger well to the right of where it had been moments before.
"Notice the difference?" Bellamy asked.
"Yeah," Clarke answered alternating back and forth between right eye closed and left eye closed. "My finger moves."
"Open both eyes now," Bellamy said. "Put your finger over the beam again and close your left eye."
Clarke obeyed, and once again the beam went from visible to obscured.
"Can you see the beam?" Bellamy asked.
"No," Clarke answered switching to her left eye and observing her finger move.
"Then you're right eye dominant," Bellamy said.
"How do you know that?" Clarke asked.
"If the finger doesn't move, when you're looking at it with your right eye, then you're right eye dominant," Bellamy explained.
"So, I should put it on my right shoulder instead then?" Clarke asked for confirmation.
"Yep," Bellamy answered. "Also, if you look at the gun." He held the rifle up for Clarke to see. "Right here," he indicated a small rectangle with his finger. "Is where the gun ejects the shell casings."
"What?" Clarke asked, confused again.
"The rifle has to eject the shells after it shoots the bullet," Bellamy said. "Otherwise, you'd only be able to shoot one bullet. The shell casing would block the chamber and when you pulled the trigger again, your gun would explode."
"Oh," Clarke said in understanding. "But what does that have to do with which side I shoot from?"
Bellamy smiled, "If you shot this gun left-handed, the shells would eject into your right arm. Your forearm would be covered in cuts and burns."
"Well thanks for saving me the trouble," Clarke said smiling in return.
"Couldn't exactly let that happen, now could I?" Bellamy smirked holding the gun out for Clarke to take back.
She took it in her hands and brough the stock to her right shoulder this time.
"This way then?" Clarke asked.
"Yeah," Bellamy said stepping around to get behind her. "A little higher now." He placed his hand on her shoulder.
Clarke shivered under his touch. For some reason it just felt so right. As much as she didn't get along with Bellamy, there was something about him that Clarke found irresistible. He wasn't like Finn, who always knew the right thing to say to help her. He wasn't like Maynard either, whose enigmatic nature and physical appearance made him attractive. Bellamy was different, and, as much as Clarke hated to admit it, better.
She lifted the gun higher and leaned her head down to look through the sights.
"Higher," Bellamy insisted. "You shouldn't be bending your neck to look through the sights."
Clarke followed his direction and raised the gun higher, so she wasn't bending her neck. Surprisingly, she found the position more comfortable.
She felt Bellamy's breath on her neck. It was warm, and she felt suddenly sweaty. Her heart rate increased. Clarke had thought that her first moment holding a gun was empowering, but now, that feeling was dwarfed. She felt totally safe and secure. With Bellamy behind her, she felt like she could do anything.
"That's good," Bellamy said leaning over towards he left shoulder, giving her space to use the weapon. "Now focus on your breathing. You want deep breaths okay?"
He demonstrated. When his chest expanded by taking a breath it brushed lightly against her back. Clarke's heart fluttered at each momentary contact.
"Good," Bellamy encouraged. "Before you pull the trigger, take a deep breath in then half a breath out." Bellamy demonstrated this. "Hold it for a second then squeeze the trigger slowly. Don't think about the recoil. Just relax."
Clarke found herself relaxing deeply, but not because she felt comfortable with the gun. It was Bellamy's mere presence that made her relax.
'Deep breath in', Clarke told herself mentally. 'Half breath out. Relax and squeeze.'
The gun kicked in her arms and pressed back against her shoulder, but it was nothing too bad. There hadn't been as much recoil as Clarke had first anticipated.
"See?" Bellamy met Clarke's eyes, a happy expression on his face. "Nothing to it."
"Yeah," Clarke agreed still holding the gun in shooting position.
"Now," Bellamy swung his head back to Clarke's left shoulder. "Try again, but this time really focus on aiming at the center of the X."
Clarke centered the crosshairs on the intersection of the two lines on the red canvas.
"Relax," Bellamy reminded her. "Don't get too excited."
Once again, it was just the advice Clarke needed to hear. She felt like she could do it now, but if she jerked the trigger too quickly, she'd probably miss.
Clarke followed the breathing pattern Bellamy had told her then squeezed the trigger. The bullet punched through the canvas multiple feet above the center of the X.
"You anticipated the recoil and pulled up early," Bellamy explained. "It's a common problem."
"Oh yeah," Clarke said dropping the gun to her side. "Then why don't you show me how the expert does it." A smirk flitted over her face suggestively.
"Watch and learn," Bellamy said confidently. He released her shoulder and went to grab another gun.
Clarke felt cold and empty without Bellamy's presence against her back. Somehow, he completed her.
Bellamy aimed at the X and pulled the trigger quickly. His body didn't move, but neither did his gun. A hollow click was all that came from the gun.
"Still watching," Clarke quipped.
"Yeah yeah," Bellamy responded sarcastically.
He lowered the rifle and cleared the chamber before pointing it at the X again. Once again, nothing other than the click of the action cycling around into the chamber.
"That doesn't look too expert to me," Clarke said an evil smirk on her face.
"My bullets are duds," Bellamy concluded. "That's annoying. You try again." He signaled for Clarke to do it again.
Clarke stepped up and focused on keeping the muzzle down. 'Don't anticipate the recoil,' she told herself. Clarke pulled the trigger and saw the bullet pierce through the canvas below the X this time.
"This is amazing," Clarke breathed. Then she stopped considering the destructive power she had been wielding. "Am I horrible for feeling that?"
"No," Bellamy answered honestly. "Try it again." He made an encouraging hand gesture.
"I don't want to waste ammunition," Clarke said, thinking about the three bullets she had effectively wasted.
"You need the practice," Bellamy argued.
"No," Clarke responded trying to bring herself back to reality. It had been fun to spend this time with Bellamy, but there were more important things to handle. "We should talk about how we're going to keep guns around camp, where we're going to keep them, and who has access."
Bellamy made a frustrated face and aimed his own gun at the X, pulling the trigger. His shot was much closer to the center than Clarke's, only slightly to the right.
"You left Miller in charge of the grounder," Clarke pointed out. "You must trust him."
"You should keep him close," Bellamy advised. "The others listen to him." He wouldn't meet her eyes. Something was going on, like the mood had shifted instantly.
"I should keep him close?" Clarke questioned. "Bellamy what's going on? You've been acting weird all day."
Clarke thought back to the events of that morning. Bellamy had taken a lot with him in his bag. She looked down at it thinking of its contents, the majority of which were rations. Then it hit her.
"All the rations you took," Clarke realized. "You're going to run. That's why you agreed to come with me. You were going to load up on supplies and just disappear." Everything she had felt for Bellamy over the last ten minutes was quickly fading.
"I don't have a choice," Bellamy returned. "The Ark will be here soon."
"So, you're just going to leave Octavia?" Clarke asked. She couldn't believe that Bellamy Blake would leave his sister behind.
"Octavia hates me," Bellamy said resignedly. "She'll be fine."
"You don't know th-" Clarke responded hotly, but Bellamy cut her off.
"I shot the Chancellor," Bellamy said loudly. "They're going to kill me Clarke. Best case scenario, they lock me up with the grounder for the rest of my life, and there's no way in hell I'm giving Jaha that satisfaction. Keep practicing. I need some air."
Bellamy left quickly and angrily; his shoulders hunched forward against some invisible force pushing back against him.
Clarke turned and watched him go, concerned for the man. She hoped against hope that he would be wrong, and that when the Ark came to the ground, Bellamy would walk free. A part of her believed that was unreasonable though. And she didn't even know what to think about his personal relationships that were falling apart at the moment. First he alienated himself from most of the other delinquents, then his relationship with Octavia fell apart, and finally his friendship with Maynard ended in a fiery explosion. Clarke felt for him.
Clarke shook her head, wondering whether or not she should go after Bellamy.
Footsteps crunched outside my cell. I tried to pinpoint their position, finding them to be slightly to my right. A door slammed. That was probably a good sign. If there was a building nearby, then my stuff could be inside it, and there probably wouldn't be many people inside. If the grounders were smart, I wouldn't be in one of their villages right now.
I sniffed the air, searching for the smell of a fire or meat. As the darkness approached, people would be going to eat whatever food was available, so that would be an area to avoid. There were three fires I could smell, each was hundreds of yards away from me, indicating that I was in a relatively large space.
There were probably fifty or so grounders around me. Thankfully though, not all were warriors by their smell. There seemed to be seven or eight children, one of which had a smell that approached adulthood, but wasn't really childlike either. Aside from the children there were ten more that smelled weaker than the others. Those were probably more workers than fighters, but they could still pose a threat to me.
So far, the escape I had devised wasn't very sophisticated. It was pretty much limited to, wait until it got dark, goad a guard into the cell, take him out, and use the key or his knife to escape. Then, I had to find my weapons, though, if that took too long, I wasn't against just running without my weaponry.
I sighed and started drumming a polyrhythm against my legs. My left hand counted a beat of three-four time, while my right counted two-four. The drumming had kept me entertained for the time I had spent in the cell. It drew my attention to something somewhat challenging that didn't require any tools.
I wondered whether or not the leader with the blonde highlights would return before the darkness set in. It could be some sort of interrogation tactic, make me wait around in a box until I get bored and antsy enough to say something. Though, she could be coming back at any time.
The smell of cooking meat wafted over to my nose. It was the same deer I had been tracking this morning. For some reason that just pissed me off, knowing that I was in this mess just because I had cared too much about bringing a deer back to camp. Although, I hadn't known at the time that there was a whole squad of grounder soldiers out there.
My situation had given me time to reflect on the issues I was dealing with back at camp. My trouble with Clarke, and constantly conflicted emotions surrounding her were finally becoming clearer to me. I wasn't interested anymore. I was confident of that now. That left the obvious question: why had we kissed then? I think I had worked that out as well.
It was loneliness. That seemed like an unusual explanation on the surface, but it made sense. In the aftermath of her fling with Finn, Clarke was left with no one to turn to for support. Raven had trouble standing within ten feet of Clarke without getting angry and Octavia was going through her own issues with her brother and Lincoln. That left Clarke with pretty much no one to talk to.
I, for my part, didn't connect with people well. That was probably my fault, at least partially. There had never been a person that really connected me to everything, and I was looking to find whatever kind of love and compassion I could.
Knowing all this, I figured the best thing to clear the air between us was to talk directly to Clarke about the kiss. I would tell her I wasn't interested. I would also apologize if she wasn't happy with that, but if there was one thing I couldn't do, it was accepting Clarke's affection when it went unreciprocated. I wasn't totally heartless and cruel.
Unfortunately for me, after thinking about my problems with Bellamy, I hadn't come up with a good solution. In the end I had opened myself to his criticism, but if he couldn't forgive me for what I did, then it was unlikely our friendship would ever return to its former state.
The sound of confident footsteps attracted my attentions away from my thoughts and cast them outward. It was the leader. She approached my cell with an air of confidence and a little bit of condescension. I could feel how superior she believed herself to be. I didn't like that, not one bit.
"Has he shown any sign of weakness?" The leader asked to the guard outside my cell.
"No," The guard returned deferentially. "He came to the bars earlier but said nothing. Since then all he's done is sit against the wall slapping rhythms on the floor."
"A strong one," The leader observed. "Impressive. Lincoln told me they were inexperienced and weak."
"Perhaps he was mistaken?" The guard questioned his leader. The fact that he used a question to speak to his leader showed that he believed she was above him in every way. It was just psychology.
"No," The leader spoke. "He mentioned one who was different. One who stood apart from the others, showing no weakness."
The leader's eyes flicked to me then. She held eye contact for a moment. I blinked but didn't look away.
"Ready to talk?" She asked.
"About what?" I returned with a smirk. Toying with your captors was a dangerous game, but if I played my cards right, I could put the leader in a bad mood. Then hopefully, she would take it out on the others around her. And, if I was lucky, one of those people would end up guarding my cell next, making it easier to encourage the guard to enter my cell.
"Tell me about your people," She ordered. "Are there more of them?"
"I dunno," I answered. "Maybe, but we kinda just fall outta the sky, so who knows really?"
"Answer my question," The leader snapped. "I don't appreciate your tone."
"'Course ya don't," I said under my breath. The I raised my voice so she could hear, "I really don't know shit."
"How about the village you burnt down?" The leader changed up her question.
"Already told ya we didn't do that," I answered. "We didn't even know ya'll had villages."
"You're lying," The leader said paranoid.
"Nah I ain't," I assured her.
The leader's eyes bored into mine. They seemed to vibrate in place, jiggling like a smoker's hand would when he wanted a cigarette.
"You're a stubborn man," The leader pointed out. "But, if you don't answer my questions, then I assure you, things will get much worse."
"I don't doubt it," I replied easily.
"Then, you'll know it would be in your best interest to share your knowledge," The leader insisted.
"I don't think it would be actually," I disagreed. My face contained the same calm expression as it had all day, and I could tell it was annoying the blonde highlighted leader.
"You don't think being released unharmed is in your best interest?" The leader questioned, trying to provoke me into answering a question by offering me an out.
"Nope," I answered shaking my head.
"How?" The leader questioned further, trying to make it more comfortable for me to talk. She was hoping I would slip up and answer something important.
"'Cause it's in my self interest to keep my people alive," I said simply.
The leader huffed lightly, doing a poor job of hiding her obvious frustration.
"Don't bring him anything to eat," The leader ordered turning to the guard. "Vinda will take your place in thirty minutes."
I heard the guard nod as his clothing brushed against his neck. Then, the confident footsteps of the leader faded away, but this time they carried the smell of frustration and anger with them. I smiled to myself, hopefully Vinda would be easy to frustrate and I could make my escape during dinner when everyone was distracted.
It could be hours before they noticed I was gone. Things were looking up for me at the moment.
I passed the next thirty minutes by drumming the same polyrhythm for a while, then I grew bored and started singing songs. I could tell the guard didn't like my singing. He found it annoying, yet he made no comment on it.
I was in the middle of Shape of My Heart by Sting when Vinda arrived. Vinda was a woman, and a tall one at that. She looked to be about my height and had flaming red hair and a round face. She also seemed to like my singing more than the first guard had.
Vinda also smelled of venison, meaning that she had already eaten her dinner. No one would be out here for a while, which played in my favor.
Tilling my own grave to keep me level
I started singing Weak and Powerless by A Perfect Circle, a personal favorite of mine. The drummer, Josh Freese, played the same polyrhythm I had been slapping against the floor earlier today.
Jam another dragon down the hole
Digging to the rhythm and the echo of a solitary siren
One that pushes me along and leaves me so
Desperate and Ravenous
I'm so weak and powerless over you
"What song is that?" I heard Vinda ask from outside my cell. "I've never heard it before."
I stopped singing. I hadn't been expecting that. This could work to my advantage. As much as I hated taking advantage of someone like this, it was necessary. If I could get Vinda to approach the bars, then maybe I could find a way to knock her out and escape.
"It's called Weak and Powerless," I answered standing to approach the bars. "Why?"
"You have a good voice," Vinda said. That was annoying, I would have to kill the first person I had met on irradiated Earth who said I had a good voice.
"Thanks," I said leaning casually on the bars. I couldn't see anything outside the cell because the walls extended outward well past the bars.
Vinda stepped closer to the bars looking at me with some undefinable expression.
"I heard you killed four of our warriors," Vinda started. "And faced six at once."
"Yeah," I said. "That's true."
"Wow," Vinda breathed. "I haven't met anyone who could accomplish a feat like that in my life."
I remained silent, pondering what she had said. This was a good sign for my miniature army back at camp. The grounders weren't nearly as well trained as I had first thought. Sure they were better trained than us, but we might be able to handle them given the appropriate strategy and a bit more practice.
"How many warriors have you killed?" Vinda asked.
"That's a strange question to ask," I observed, while avoiding answering the question.
"You are a great warrior," Vinda said like it was an obvious fact. "So, you must have killed many."
I chuckled at her flattery. It was an odd feeling to be doted upon by someone I didn't even know or understand in the slightest. I had never taken compliments well, and that held true here, as I found myself staring at the ground uncomfortably. In that moment I also knew how I would escape.
"C'mere," I told Vinda. "I'll whisper it to ya." It seemed stupid to say, but I hoped that Vinda's excitement at meeting a 'great warrior' would bring her to me with no issues.
Just as I had hoped, Vinda stood next to the bars, her face as close to being in my cell as was possible without actually entering it. I smirked and turned to face her face to face.
"One more than before," I said quietly.
I grabbed her by the shoulders and jerked her head violently into the bars. My move had been so unexpected that she hadn't been able to resist at all. Vinda's body crumpled to the ground at the clanging sound of her head contacting one of the iron poles. The noise hadn't been loud. It seemed unlikely that anyone would have heard me.
I pulled her body towards the bars, reaching to her belt and removing her knife. It was fairly thin, and nowhere near as heavy as mine, but it would do for the task I needed it for. I jammed the point of the blade into Vinda's neck. The blood began to flow quickly from the open wound, pooling around the woman's head.
Pulling her body closer, now no longer afraid that Vinda would wake up and kill me, I reached through the bars with the knife and cut her earrings out of her earlobes. The earrings were long, thin, and made of some kind of bone. Their thinness would hopefully allow me to pick the lock to my handcuffs, then to the cell.
I inserted the thin ends of the bone earrings into the keyhole. To pick a lock you had to lift the pins off their attachments. Unfortunately, you had to do them one at a time, since there were at least five of them. That was the reason keys had a unique shape because that shape is the one the unlocks each of the pins.
Carefully lifting each pin while maintaining constant pressure at the bottom of the lock, I eventually unlocked the handcuffs by awkwardly bending my wrists. I sighed happily and dropped my chains to the ground. Rubbing at my red wrists, I ignored whatever pain I felt, in favor of focusing on my escape.
I moved quickly, repeating the process on the keyhole to the cell. The only difference was, I had to mirror my motions as the lock was facing opposite me. The door opened with a satisfying clunk. The hinges creaked as I pushed the door open just enough to slip through.
Looking to Vinda's body, I noticed a sword attached to her belt. That would help. I'd be much better protected now that I had a weapon other than Vinda's thin knife. I took the sheathed sword from her and briefly looked at it. It was a one-handed sword, certainly not my preferred kind of weapon, but at least it was pretty much my size. Two-handed swords were much better in my opinion. This would do for now though.
Then I slid Vinda's body back into the cell and cut her hair off, roughly but quickly. I locked the cuffs around her wrists and closed the door to the cell. If I was lucky, when the guards inevitably switched positions in the next few hours, they would mistake Vinda's body for mine in the darkness. I kicked dirt over the blood on the ground, hoping no one would notice it.
I stepped up to the edge of the wall, hiding in the shadows. I smelled and listened for the presence of any enemies. If I could use my other senses to detect threats while remaining hidden, I was going to do it. Glancing back at Vinda's shadowy form, I felt sort of bad. She didn't seem like a fundamentally bad person. But she was in my way, an obstacle to my own freedom. I had killed five people today, maybe six if the female archer from earlier got an infection in her wound. I had killed them because if I didn't I would've been killed.
I shook my head pulling a sad face. It was what it was unfortunately.
Finding no immediate threats, I stepped out of the shadows and looked to my left and right. On my right was a sort of barracks. It looked like a military outpost to me. A fire roared in the distance based on the flickering light I saw over the top of the barracks. Voices laughed and cheered happily. That was good, if they were having a good time, then they would be reluctant to leave.
To my left was the forest. There was a distance of about three hundred yards to the edge. My stuff was probably in the barracks. I briefly wondered whether I should even investigate the barracks at all. I would be wasting time and risking my life to retrieve relatively replaceable items. I knew the weapons were valuable, but were they worth my life?
I moved to the left, hoping to plan out the location I would escape to. The gap between the forest and the barracks was about fifty yards at its narrowest and five hundred yards at its widest. I would move to the narrow point, the less distance I had to travel in the open, the better.
Turning back to the barracks I inhaled slowly, preparing for what was to come. I walked towards the barracks, and nearly missed an object lying to the right against the wall. I backed up and saw my crossbow, knifes, belt, and fleece.
They were just sitting there. It made no sense. Why would the grounders go through all the trouble of locking me up with an armed guard outside, only to leave my weapons right outside the door? I would take the assistance, regardless of the poor reasoning.
I quickly pulled on my fleece and strapped on my belt. Then I belted the sword to my belt and threw my quiver over my shoulder. Finally, I picked up my crossbow hanging it over my shoulder. Now that I had all my stuff, there wasn't really a reason to head for the narrowest point. I could just run straight across the gap between the forest and the barracks. Taking one final moment to look for threats, I sniffed the air.
I didn't smell anyone within a hundred yards of me. That was a relief to me. I had finally gotten a break to go my way. No one was around and all my stuff was just sitting right outside the cell. I smirked happily as I ran to the forest and disappeared into the trees.
Clarke came to lying on the floor in the supply depot. She grunted pushing herself to her knees. Holding her hand to her head as some block against the pain she felt, Clarke tried to remember why she was lying here. The last thing she remembered was…
Her father. She had been practicing shooting and her father had appeared to her. She had been back in her cell on the Ark, the one with the drawings covering the walls. Her father had told her to forgive her mother. Forgive her for sentencing her father to death. He had said forgiveness wasn't about what someone deserved. Then it all came back.
She had felt a pain on the back of her head. Her dad had called her a crazy bitch. Something had gone wrong. How had she seen her father? He was dead. That didn't make sense.
Clarke cast her mind back to the events of the day, wondering what could've caused her ill-timed vision. She placed her hand to her forehead, checking for a fever, but found her temperature to be normal. Not a fever then. The only other explanation was that she had ingested some sort of hallucinogen. Bad water?
Clarke grabbed her bag and checked the half empty canteen. Nothing unusual as far as she could tell. At least there wasn't any algae growing inside. Her eyes landed on the bag of rations she had taken. Inside were nuts. Monty and Jasper had collected them this morning. That was the only other logical explanation available to her. The nuts were filled with a kind of drug.
The reasoning stopped there, as she remembered Bellamy. He was outside somewhere, with no one watching his back, and he had probably eaten some of the nuts to sustain himself. Bellamy could be out there, a bear breathing down his neck, and not notice.
Clarke jumped to her feet, ignoring the pain in her head as she grabbed her rifle and her bag. She practically ran through the underground depot, and when she came to the stairs, she took the steps two at a time, nearly stepping on the skeleton lying on them. When Clarke burst out into the outside world, she was shocked to find it to be nighttime. That didn't bode well for Bellamy. Predators came out at night to hunt, and Bellamy would be a sitting duck.
She had to find him, only problem was, she didn't know where to look. Bellamy could be miles away for all Clarke knew. On the ground beneath her feet were footprints, leading into and out of the bunker. There looked to be three differently sized feet, but only two people had entered the bunker unless someone was following them. That follower could be the one who knocked her out earlier, and he could be looking for Bellamy right now.
With a renewed sense of urgency Clarke began to follow the footprints. In that moment she wished she had Maynard's senses. It would be a godsend to have his nose or his night vision right now. Better yet, Maynard could be here right now with his knives and crossbow, ready to help her if she got into trouble. Unfortunately, though, Maynard wasn't here. All Clarke had to rely on was the rifle in her hands and her intuition.
She breathed faster and faster as she followed the tracks. In the distance she could hear the sound of voices, then of fighting. Blows rained down on a body. Clarke broke into a sprint.
She was shocked when she found Dax holding a rifle over Bellamy's body. The gun clicked as it fired a dud round, and Bellamy reached to the ground, slapping his hand and holding it up empty. He looked at his hand in confusion.
"Put it down Dax," Clarke ordered sternly, aiming her gun at his center mass. She certainly hadn't expected her first day holding a gun to involve shooting someone. Clarke hoped she wouldn't have to.
Dax wheeled around looking at her. Bellamy too looked to her in surprise.
"Should've stayed down there Clarke," Dax advised his own rifle aimed at her center mass. "I tried not to kill you, but here you are, and Shumway said no witnesses."
"What is he talking about?" Clarke asked directing her question to Bellamy.
"Shumway set it up," Bellamy explained from his back on the dirt. "He gave me the gun to shoot the Chancellor."
"Walk away now and I won't kill you," Dax offered a deal to Clarke.
"Put it down," Clarke ordered carefully pronouncing each word.
"Your choice," Dax said ominously.
Clarke stared through the sights aiming directly at Dax. She pulled the trigger. Click. The bullet was a dud. Clarke quickly turned her back and hid behind a tree as Dax's own rifle fired.
"No!" She heard Bellamy's scream followed by an impact.
The impacts continued along with grunting from the two men as they fought. Clarke desperately tried to clear the jam. Dax knocked Bellamy off him and moved to straddle atop the older man throwing punches to his face. Dax grabbed the rifle off the ground, using it to club Bellamy over the head with.
"Get the hell off him!" Clarke shouted preparing to use her own gun to beat Dax with.
The impact of Dax's rifle against her stomach was brutal. She exhaled hard, unable to breath as she fell backwards, yet in the moment of distraction, Bellamy was able to act. He picked up an ejected bullet from the ground and jabbed it into Dax's neck.
Clarke tried to inhale, searching for her breath, but it didn't come. Dax, meanwhile, struggled to breathe himself. He collapsed backwards off Bellamy, blood pouring from his mouth. He laid down in between Clarke and Bellamy, then died on the spot.
Finally, sweet air entered Clarke's lungs. She gasped again and again, regaining her capacity to breathe normally. Bellamy also panted heavily, though not because he couldn't breathe, but because he had barely survived the encounter.
Clarke laid back against the tree she had used as a shield earlier while Bellamy crawled over to her side. In his eyes was something she didn't expect to see from Bellamy, genuine fear. Clarke expected that this same look was reflected in her own eyes. They had come so close to death then, but they had made it through.
"You're ok," Clarke assured Bellamy, though she suspected on some level that she was assuring herself more.
"No," Bellamy rasped. "I'm not." He too dropped heavily against the tree.
They were silent for a moment, only their breaths stirred the air around them.
"My mother…" Bellamy started. "If she knew what I've done, who I am," he stopped for a moment.
Clarke held her attention firmly on Bellamy's face as the emotions washed over him. She wasn't really sure what to say to him.
"She raised me to be better, to be good…" Bellamy continued voice breaking.
"Bellamy," Clarke breathed.
"All I do is hurt people," Bellamy said starting to tear up. "I'm a monster."
Clarke sat up, unable to believe what she was hearing.
"Hey," She said leaning towards him. "You saved my life today. You may be a total ass half the time, but I need you. We all need you." Clarke continued insisting, trying to bring Bellamy back to reality, "None of us would have survived this place if it wasn't for you. You want forgiveness, then, I'll give it to you. You're forgiven okay?" Her voice grew increasingly rapid and desperate. "But you can't run Bellamy. You have to come back with me. You have to face it."
The outpouring of emotion that came from Clarke surprised even her. She really did need Bellamy. There was no one who made her feel the way he did.
"Like you faced you mom?" Bellamy finally asked.
Clarke looked away guiltily. She knew he was right, but he didn't have to bring that up now. She stuttered for a moment thinking of the right words. In the moment something Maynard had said to her appeared in her mind.
They had been standing in the dropship and Clarke had asked him what rules he lived by. He was so unorthodox that she had to know. His response in that moment spoke to her now.
"The most important rule…" Maynard had said thoughtfully looking upwards as if God would tell him the answer. "Tell the truth." He nodded assuring himself. "Tell the truth, or at least don't lie. That means to others, but mostly to yerself."
"You're right," Clarke said finally. She hadn't wanted to admit it, but they were inthe same situation, only Bellamy's was a little more serious and potentially life threatening. "I don't want to face my mom," She admitted. "I don't want to face any of it." She looked to Bellamy who was slowly turning his head back to meet her own eyes. "All I think about every day is how we're going to keep everyone alive, but we don't have a choice."
Clarke met Bellamy's eyes, but once again he turned away. Bellamy sniffed and shook his head in denial.
"Jaha will kill me when he comes down," Bellamy said sure of himself.
"We'll figure something out," Clarke said trying to instill hope in the broken man next to her.
"Can we figure it out later?" Bellamy asked looking away to the night sky above them.
Clarke laid down closing her eyes, trying to relax to prevent the pain from returning to her head or her stomach.
"Whenever you're ready," She responded.
The water enveloped my head, taking my breath away. It was freezing cold, not literally, but it was cold enough to make me think twice about my decision to jump in. The whole point was to lose any footprints that I might've left behind me. Going in the river would allow me to travel a certain distance without leaving a trace.
There was another benefit to travelling in the river. The border between our territory and grounder territory was along a river. If I had happened to pick out the right one, then I could climb out and walk towards camp. Hopefully, I wouldn't catch hypothermia before then.
I floated calmly in the current, allowing the river to do the work. I treaded water, but occasionally swam in one direction or another to avoid the riverbank or a large rock in the river. This process was more difficult than it would have normally been due to all the extra weight I was carrying. Not to mention the fact that I had to keep a tight hold on my crossbow to keep it from being lost in the current.
It took a few minutes for me to grow used to the temperature of the river. After this I actually appreciated the time, I was getting to spend floating down the river cooling myself off. The experience was sort of meditative. There wasn't really much time to think about anything because I was too busy worrying about my shrunk-up balls or the rock that happened to be right in front of me.
My eyes scanned over the trees on either bank searching for any sign of the grounders following me. I didn't see or smell anyone. The forest was mostly empty. A squirrel darted along a branch on the left side of the river, and in that moment, I realized just how hungry I was. I would eat that thing raw.
I drifted over to the low hanging branch the squirrel sat on. The thing looked down at me preparing to run. His eyes met mine and he turned darting away, but I was quicker. I sprung out of the water snatching the squirrel in my left hand and pulling him down into the water. The squirrel struggled against me for a moment, his claws scrabbling against my hand, but after about thirty seconds he stilled. I heard his heartbeat stop seconds after that.
It looked like I was eating a raw squirrel for dinner. I smirked at the hilarity of the situation. I felt like Gollum from Lord of the Rings, floating in the water quiet as a mouse and eating raw animals. Had I seen a fish I would have eaten that instead, but I wasn't left with much of a choice.
I tore a hole in the squirrel's skin with my teeth and spat the fur out of my mouth. From there I used the hole to tear the fur off the squirrel. That would be inedible. I looked at the squirrel making a face, there wasn't much meat on him. Ah well.
I bit the head off first, crunching up the tiny bones. It was surprisingly better than I thought it would be. I continued munching content to finally have something in my stomach. I could smell the blood pouring from the squirrel. Hopefully, nothing else could.
I finished the squirrel, bones and all, just a few minutes later. Shockingly, it hadn't been the worst meal I'd ever had. That honor went to a raw potato I had tried to eat when I was eleven years old. It was disgusting.
A short distance down the river, thanks to my nocturnal vision and a gap in the trees, I could see the mountains in the distance. They were straight in front of me, which was another huge break. Not only was I possibly hours ahead of the grounders, but also, I had located camp. The mountains were to the east of camp, which meant if I kept them to the east of me, then I could walk in a straight line and probably locate familiar territory.
Now was probably the time to climb out of the river and onto the land. One thing I was confident of, was that I could now leave safely without concern that I would be found by the grounders. I wasn't even sure if I was in their territory anymore. It seemed that I was, as I didn't recognize anything.
Reaching the bank, I caught hold of a tree branch and held tightly. I pulled myself to the bank and then, after nearly losing my crossbow, onto the land above it. I crossed my arms shivering against the gusts of wind blowing against me. The moon was to my left, I was heading south. As far as I was aware, the grounder territory was north of our camp. That meant I was heading in the right direction.
So, I started off crashing through the bushes until I found a path. That took about fifteen minutes, and the moon was gradually rising to the middle of the sky. This was only slightly concerning though, as I could just keep the mountains to my left and eventually find camp.
The forest around me was alive, much more so than it was during the day. Sounds echoed around me, owls hooted, frogs croaked, and bugs chirped and buzzed. All the noise was a good sign. It meant that there probably wasn't anyone following me around right now. If there was, the animals would be silent. I fit in with them, just another one of the predators in the forest, but normal people didn't. Normal people weren't part of the forest hierarchy, but I was.
I brushed my hand through my hair as water dripped out of it onto the ground. I shivered again, trying to fight the cold. The river had been a necessary path to take unfortunately. Seeing as the temperature was about forty degrees, I was having a rough go of it right now. I needed to warm up, so I started jogging.
Jogging wouldn't make me comfortably warm, but it would keep me from getting hypothermia, probably. I would certainly dry out quicker if nothing else.
My breath fogged the air as I moved quickly through the forest. The weapons attached to my body rattled and banged up and down. It was somewhat distracting, but eventually I learned to treat the rattling as a rhythm.
Then I found myself in the meditative state of breathing and running. Unless you stooped you could stay in that state for an hour and not feel any pain or suffering at all. As soon as you stopped though, you broke the cycle of breathing and the pain would envelope you, making it impossible to continue onward. Don't stop.
After maybe an hour of running I finally saw something I recognized. The pebble covered beach where I had stood after the hundred had turned on Murphy who had been innocent at the time. I stopped for a moment breathing hard. I was out of grounder territory. I was safe now.
I smiled happily holding my left side as I tried to gather enough air to support me. Having broken the cycle, I was now in the stage of suffering. I smacked my lips, feeling the stickiness of cottonmouth. I knew I was almost back to camp, but if I didn't drink something now, I might pass out the moment I reached the fire. I was probably going to do that anyway.
I leaned over to the edge of the water and slurped greedily. I exhaled in pleasure as the water rolled down my throat, easing the dryness of my throat. Scanning the water for any lurking animal that wanted to bite my head off, I leaned over and drank again. Then my feet brought me up to stand again.
There was probably another two miles to reach camp. Compared to the unknowable distance I had travelled though, that was nothing. I might've done ten or fifteen in this night alone. Most of those I had run, but the last two I would walk.
The people of the camp were milling around aimlessly in the dark. Most of them held their heads in their hands, walking around like they were in pain. Something weird had happened here, and I wasn't sure what. I did know that the story would be great.
I approached the gate I had designed. It was fairly simple, made of a bunch of logs lashed together and stuck on a hinge. I had some improvements in mind, but for now it did its job, which was mostly to keep the animals out of our camp.
"Hey!" I shouted to whoever was manning the gate. "Open up." I slapped the logs for good measure.
"Maynard?" I heard a familiar voice on the other side of the wall. "That you?"
"Yeah Darius," I responded roughly. "Open the damn door."
Seconds later the gate swung open to reveal the tall black man. He looked exhausted, like he was hungover or coming off a huge high on crack.
"The hell happened to ya?" I asked. "Ya look like shit." I punched him lightly on the shoulder.
"Same," He responded looking at me critically. "Where you been?"
I sighed, remaining silent for a moment. Telling the truth was the best policy, but I could delay telling that truth for now, I wasn't really in the mood.
"Long story man," I answered honestly.
"Why are you all wet?" He asked.
"Had to swim in the river," I explained.
Darius narrowed his eyes but said nothing. His eyes dropped to the sword on my belt. I hadn't had that when I left.
"Where'd you get that?" Darius questioned.
I looked down at the sword, then back to Darius, then away from Darius and off to his right. The others looked just like Darius, and they smelled like him too.
"Tell ya later," I told him slapping him on the back as I passed. "Gotta go dry off before I get hypothermia."
Not two steps later I bumped into Raven, who didn't smell like Darius and the others did. I couldn't figure out why the hell they smelled so weird. Raven had a different smell, one that was easier to pinpoint. She'd had sex with Finn. I didn't think their relationship was on the upswing though, based on the look Raven gave Finn as he passed.
"Woah," Raven said leaning back. Then she recognized me, "Hey," she said. "Took you long enough. Find anything good?"
"Yeah," I returned. "Don't know what happened to it though."
"Did it get away?" Raven cocked her head to the side.
"Kinda," I returned. "I'll tell ya in a minute. Just let me sit next to the fire. I'm freezin' my ass off."
I walked quickly to the fire, Raven just behind me. As I neared, I felt the heat bringing me back to life, like reanimating a corpse. I moved to the wigwam structure set up to cook and dry various things and hung my fleece at the edge. Hopefully, it would be dry by the time I was ready to go to sleep.
Plopping down on a log set out as a makeshift bench, I sighed contentedly dropping my weaponry beside me. It felt good to unburden myself after my altered biathlon. I closed my eyes letting the heat wash over me. Raven sat next to me, though I felt her do so more than saw her.
"Cold?" She asked sarcastically.
I nodded my answer vigorously.
"Holy shit," Raven breathed. "What the hell happened to you?"
I opened my eyes, not sure what she was talking about. I couldn't exactly see my face, though I figured it could be a mess of blood. Looking down, I noticed my hands were caked in dry blood, which hadn't come off in my swim apparently.
"A lot," I answered vaguely.
"I can see that," Raven pointed out. "Your face and hands are covered in blood and you're all wet." I huffed preparing myself to tell her the whole story. "Don't think I didn't notice that sword either," Raven warned.
"How could ya not?" I questioned. "It's pretty obvious."
Raven looked at me pointedly. She was telling me to get on with the story of my crazy ass day.
"Right," I started awkwardly. "Well, I was trackin' a deer-"
"How did this happen when you were tracking a deer?" Raven asked.
"Don't be so impatient," I shushed her with a smirk. "I'll tell ya the whole thing, ya just gotta wait fer me to do it."
"Fine," Raven huffed. She didn't like it when I got the best of her like that. I personally found it kind of funny, the way she crossed her arms and looked away pouting.
"I found it," I continued the story with a look of warning to Raven. "But this grounder was already skinnin' her."
Raven's eyes widened in surprise, but true to her word, she said nothing.
"I tried to scare him off, but he wouldn't go anywhere," I said. "So, I ended up fightin' him."
A frustrated huff came from Raven's lips as she tried her best not to berate me for fighting a grounder without purpose.
"Anyway, I killed him," I explained. "But he had friends. Six more showed up to attack me, and I managed to kill three of them and wound another. Then their leader came out with a whole squad of soldiers."
Raven made a face and then, unable to keep her silence, spoke, "Sorry to interrupt, but did you eat any of the nuts Monty and Jasper found by any chance."
"Monty and Jasper found nuts?" I asked smirking immaturely at the innuendo.
Raven rolled her eyes at me.
"The kind of nuts you eat dumbass," She said.
"You eat nuts?" I asked with fake incredulity.
"Shut up and tell me if you ate any of the…" Raven paused thinking of another word she could use. "Food Monty and Jasper found."
"No," I answered seriously. "All I've eaten today's a raw squirrel."
Raven raised her eyebrows and made a gagging sound. I chuckled.
"What's the big deal?" I asked.
"Just finish telling me what happened," Raven said looking away in disgust.
"I was sort of trapped," I said. "So, I had to surrender, or they would've shot me full of arrows. They knocked me out and trapped me in some kinda cell in a barracks." Raven made a confused face. "It was like a military stagin' base or somethin'," I clarified. "They had a guard outside and the leader wanted to know why we burnt their village down."
"What?" Raven asked confused. "That doesn't make any sense."
"I think it was the flares," I explained. "They must've landed on a village and set it on fire."
"Fuck," Raven swore. "That is not good."
"Nah it ain't," I agreed with a slight nod.
We sat in silence for a moment, as I considered how to continue my story. Thankfully, Raven came to my rescue, asking a relevant question.
"Who was the leader?" Raven asked.
"Dunno," I responded. "It was a woman. She had blonde highlights in her hair, and her face looked like a sad dog."
"A sad dog?" Raven questioned my word choice.
"Yeah," I said. "Her face was kinda long and… well sad." I finished lamely.
"That's so helpful," Raven said elongating the so like an emo teenager would.
"Shut up," I quipped.
Raven smiled, looking like she was going to say something to me, but no words came from her mouth. I was grateful for that, as I was a bit tired of the constant grief, she was giving me.
"Thanks," I said. "Now, what was I talkin' about?" I took a moment to recall the last even I had described. "So, I just sat in the cell until it got dark. I got the guard to come over to the bars and pulled her head into the bars. Then, I took her knife and killed her with it. She had on these weird ass bone earrings; they were thin enough to use as lock picks. So, I got out and ran all the way back."
"Sounds like you had quite the day," Raven observed.
"I guess I did," I agreed.
I leaned backwards using my hands to keep myself from falling over. Crossing my legs out in front of me, I sighed contentedly. In this moment I was so relaxed, especially after all the running I had done today. I closed my eyes before speaking again.
"So," I started smiling despite myself. "What happened with the nuts?"
"Oh yeah," Raven remembered her promise to explain the situation. "Apparently those nuts were some kind of drug. Everyone just freaked out and started wandering around aimlessly. They were hallucinating."
"Do ya still have any of the nuts?" I asked.
"Trying to get high?" Raven asked standing to find one.
"Nah," I answered. "Just wanna know what's in them."
Raven came back seconds later holding what looked like an oversized peanut, only it had a hairy sort of texture. I took it in my hand and looked at it for a moment. I sniffed it but was unable to define anything about it. I broke the nut in half revealing a greenish texture inside. I took another sniff of the nut, but this time the scent was extremely powerful.
"Psilocin," I commented tossing both halves of the nut into the fire.
"What?" Raven asked.
"It's Psilocin," I clarified. "It's a psychedelic drug. Makes ya have visions and shit. I didn't know there were nuts that had Psilocin in them. I thought that was just mushrooms."
Raven shook her head with a hint of humor on her face.
For the next few minutes, we sat in silence. The crowd milled around aimlessly; everyone held their hands to their heads fighting the pain of a hangover.
"Anythin' else interestin' happen?" I asked.
"Clarke and Bellamy came back about an hour ago with guns," Raven said.
"How many?" I asked.
"They had fourteen on them, but they said there were a lot more," Raven answered.
I smiled happily. I wasn't sure if any news would have pleased me more than that. Guns would do us huge service. Now we weren't outmatched by the grounders, and we actually had the technological advantage.
"I looked just like that when I found the guns," A voice commented behind me.
I turned my head to see Bellamy standing behind me, a light smile on his face. I didn't understand exactly what it was for, but if he was managing to smile while coming of his own free will to speak to me for the first time in weeks, then I wasn't going to complain.
"I uh," Bellamy started. "I need to talk to you Maynard." He motioned with his head off to a more private spot where we wouldn't be overheard.
"See ya," I said resting my hand on Raven's shoulder before standing.
I walked past the fire on my way to the spot Bellamy pointed out. I touched my fleece, wondering if it had dried out. The answer was unfortunately, no.
"What's goin' on?" I asked as Bellamy and I stood in the corner against the wall. "Ya haven't wanted to talk to me for weeks."
"I think," Bellamy inhaled shakily and swallowed hard, trying to keep his nerves down. "I think it's time I forgave you."
I narrowed my eyes, not saying anything. Had I heard Bellamy right?
"For your stunt in the dropship a couple weeks ago," He clarified.
"I know what yer talkin' about," I cut him off.
"Yeah," Bellamy looked to the ground. "I don't exactly agree with what you did, but you were only trying to save Finn's life. And, if Octavia can forgive you for that, then I can too. You weren't endangering my life."
I smirked lightly, "About time ya came around chief."
Bellamy nodded still looking at the ground, "I've been a real jackass, and I'm sorry. You didn't deserve any of that." He then looked up to meet my eyes. "But don't threaten Octavia like that again." His dark eyes were serious and deadly.
I looked to Bellamy, thinking about telling him that was a one-time thing. For once in my life though, I managed to keep my opinion to myself. He knew that was a one-time thing too, but he was just trying to protect his sister. Bellamy didn't actually think I would hurt Octavia.
"I won't," I said finally. I stuck my hand out to Bellamy.
We shook hands, comfortable with each other for the first time in weeks. I smirked up at him.
"Heard ya went out with Clarke today," I said suggestively as we walked side by side back to the fire.
Bellamy gave me a side-eyed glare.
Well that was one hell of an episode, two weeks and twenty thousand words. Hope ya'll liked this one.
Also, this episode will be the start of more plot changes, though I'm trying to keep those changes to a realistic amount.
On another note, I've been thinking of writing another fic in Star Wars or The Walking Dead. That story would be updated less often, maybe once a month or so. It would help to give me an occasional distraction from this story. I have some good ideas for both of those stories. Let me know your preference, or if you even have one.
Thanks for reading.