Bellamy reached the bottom of the cliff quickly, wanting to remove himself from Clarke's presence at the moment. He knew she was just trying to help him, but Bellamy didn't want her help right now, or anybody's for that matter. He could handle himself and make his own decisions.
He took a closer look at his surroundings, trying to think of where the door could be located. The space itself was so large that it could be anywhere. Bellamy would have to narrow down the location to certain areas.
He walked down the hill to the ground below to continue his search for the door. While walking down the hill, Bellamy spotted the most suspicious spot he'd seen so far. A pile of long grass lay bunched up like a mini hill. Whatever was beneath the grass stood about the high of Bellamy's waist.
Bellamy walked over to the grass and tore it off the object beneath it. He furiously pulled backwards hoping he'd found something, but underneath it was only a log. A log and nothing more. Or maybe…
Bellamy pulled out his hatchet and began hacking away at the bottom of the log. The door could be cleverly disguised as this log. The blade of the hatchet landed against the wood splintering it. Bellamy swung again and again totally intent on his task. After a few more well-placed hits though he was interrupted.
"Bellamy! Wells!" Clarke called out from below him.
In response to her call, Bellamy walked up to the edge of a steep decline and looked down. Below him Clarke stood, looking back up at him. Bellamy had to try hard to avoid getting caught up in his feelings.
"Over here," She said. "I found a door." Bellamy meets Wells gaze where he stands not to far away.
Bellamy turned his back on Clarke and started working his way back down to her. Seconds later he was down standing in front of Clarke who looked at him expectantly.
"This way," Clarke motioned for him to follow.
She led him through a barren section of the area, one he probably wouldn't have thought to check. There was a steep hill to their left and a shallow plateau to their right, each covered in the same dry yellow grass.
It was an old metal object. The hatch had rusty looking hinges, and even rustier handles attached to its flat circular face. Bellamy wondered how long it had been here, certainly over a century, maybe even a century and a half.
Clarke pulled against one of the rusty handles, heaving with all her strength. The position she took was limited, as she wasn't using all the leverage available to her. Had she stood and pulled with straight arms she would have been stronger. Though, Bellamy doubted it would have made a difference if the hatch was really as rusted as it looked.
"I think it's rusted shut," Clarke said.
Wells jumped down from an old tree branch and landed beside Bellamy.
Bellamy lifted his hatchet and prepared to break the seal.
"Watch your foot," Bellamy warned.
Clarke looked back noticing that Bellamy was going to use his hatchet to break the seal. She quickly moved to make space for Bellamy to swing unhindered. Two swings later the seal was broken.
"Ok give me a hand," Bellamy said.
Each grabbed onto one of the handles. They lifted together, and grunting they managed to open the door to the supply depot. Clarke picked up her bag in her hand and stood.
"Let's see what's down here," She commented. Bellamy just nodded, picking up his bag as well.
Wells tug his backpack off his shoulder and grabbed a handheld flashlight to use.
Clarke hands another flashlight to Bellamy and led the way down the metal staircase first, then Bellamy, and then Wells. Cobwebs stretched from floor to ceiling due to the amount of time the bunker had been left unattended. At the bottom of the stairs Wells brushed his fingers against a thick metal wall with words on it. "Emergency Aid Depot #22." Wells read. Bellamy had to duck his head to descend further down the stairs, as the ceiling was in the way of his head, as Wells did the same.
"You really think this place hasn't been touched since the war?" Wells asked, curious of Clarke's thoughts. It was fairly obvious to him that it hadn't been.
"A girl can dream," Clarke remarked.
She started off to the right of the staircase, where there was another staircase, leading to lower levels. Bellamy thanked whatever god that existed right then for the flashlight he held. Without the flashlights, they would be totally blind.
Clarke started, letting out a frightened sound. She calmed quickly though. "What is it?" Wells asked, concerned as he stands next to her when Bellamy stands beside them and realized why she was so startled. The decaying carcass of a skeleton lay on the stairs.
"Hell of a place to die," Bellamy imagined the horror being trapped in a place like this until you starved to death.
They came to the bottom of the stairs seeing more cobwebs and walls covered in dark grime.
"So much for living down here," Clarke spoke. "This place is disgusting."
Bellamy said nothing. She was right. It was damn disgusting and would not be livable in his lifetime. Water dripped from the ceiling, clinking lightly against the metal floor. Yep, disgusting. It was like the worst muddiest cave you could imagine.
"Damn it," Clarke swore.
"Anything left down here is ruined," Bellamy observed.
Clarke stopped in front of him to witness water pour from a rather severe leak in the ceiling. Bellamy stepped up next to her shining his own light in the opposite direction, looking for anything useable. Even one multitool would make him happy at this point.
They were in a room full of shelves, some kind of storage area. If they were going to find anything this would be the place. It looked grim though, most of the boxes were open and covered in cobwebs.
"They must've distributed most of the supplies before the last bombs went off," Clarke said.
Bellamy stepped up to a metal boxes cracking the lid open. A loud creak came from the box, echoing through the eerily empty chambers of the bunker. Inside were glowsticks, and not the kind you saw kids waving around on Halloween. These were legit military spec glowsticks, the kind spec ops guys would through into a dark building to see if any terrorists lurked inside. Bellamy tossed the glowsticks towards Wells direction as he tossed it at Clarke's. Wells carefully stepped out of the way when it slides across the dirty floor towards him.
Holding the light in one hand, Wells peeled the lid off a barrel and tossed it on the ground. There some sort of liquid in them. Probably water or something.
"Hey, I found blankets," Clarke said behind him. At least the trip hadn't been a total loss. Could've been a hell of a lot better though.
"Excited about a couple of blankets?" Bellamy asked condescendingly. He has wanted to find tools and weapons, but so far, nothing.
Wells lowered two fingers into the puddle of curiosity. He draws his fingers out of the liquid and rubs his fingers against his thumb. That's definitely not water.
"Well," Clarke said. "It's something."
"How about a canteen?" Bellamy asked his voice rising. "A med kit? Or a decent fricking tent?" He stops when he is only a few inches away from Wells. He noticed the liquid on Wells' finger, realizing there nothing in the barrel except nothing but dark gunky liquid.
Bellamy stepped back and kicked his leg up. Wells dodge out of the way just in time ad Bellamy roared in frustration and kicked the barrel over violently. "Bellamy what the hell?" Wells shrieked at him. They both had their angry faces on. It crashed to the ground, spilling the dirty water everywhere. In the midst of all the anger though, he heard a sound, a clattering plastic sound. Bellamy and Wells shared a confused look. Wells walked around the open section of the barrel to shine his light down on it. "Holy shit." Wells breathed.
Bellamy notice the surprised look on Wells', and bent his knees to inspect the items that had fallen from the oil barrel. What he saw shocked and relieved him.
"Oh my god," Bellamy breathed.
"What?" Clarke turned coming over to see what Bellamy and Wells had found.
Bellamy grabbed and lifted one of the grime covered Assault Rifles to show Clarke. He looked up at her all trace of frustration gone. In its place was excitement. He smiled at the look of shock that crossed Clarke's face.
"Looks like we found something useful after all."
This changes everything," Bellamy said excitedly while eating some of the jobi nuts. "No more running from spears. Ready to be a badass Clarke?"
Wells carefully pick the rifle from the barrel with his back to Bellamy and Clarke. The gun was a bit lighter than he expected them to be. He holds it with both hands and turns around to face Bellamy with a confused expression spread out on his facial features. Wells was not an expert when it comes to guns.
"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."
"We're lucky the rifles were packed in grease," Bellamy observed. "The fact that they survived means we're not sitting ducks anymore. You guys need to learn how to do this."
"I'll go first." Wells said. Although it felt very weird to hold such a deadly weapon, he needed to learn how to do this. They needed to get a better shot against the grounders, they'd all be dead.
Bellamy nods before he steps back to give Wells room as he tries to hold the rifle correctly in his hands. "So, I just hold it on my shoulder?" Wells questioned.
"Are you left-eye dominant?" Bellamy asked, a bemused expression gracing his face.
"What?" Wells 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?" Wells questioned further.
Bellamy held his hand out to take the rifle from Wells. He 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."
Wells followed his directions covering the beam with his right finger. With his eyes focused on it, his finger was sort of transparent. He could see the beam, even though his finger covered it.
"Now close your left eye," Bellamy told her.
He did so, noticing that the beam was now covered.
"Now what?" He asked.
"Close your right eye only now," Bellamy said.
As soon as he switched, Wells saw the beam again with his finger well to the right of where it had been moments before.
"Notice the difference?" Bellamy asked.
"Yeah," Wells 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."
Wells obeyed, and once again the beam went from visible to obscured.
"Can you see the beam?" Bellamy asked.
"No," Wells answered switching to her left eye and observing her finger move.
"Then you're right eye dominant," Bellamy said.
"How do you know that?" Wells 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'm guessing I should put it on my right shoulder instead then?" Wells asked for confirmation.
"Yep," Bellamy answered. "Also, if you look at the gun." He held the rifle up for Wells to see. "Right here," he indicated a small rectangle with his finger. "Is where the gun ejects the shell casings."
"The what?" Wells 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," Wells 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," Wells said smiling in return.
"Couldn't exactly let that happen, now could i, Jr?" Bellamy smirked holding the gun out for Wells to take back.
Wells rolled his eyes at the nickname he just gave him as he took it in his hands and brough the stock to his right shoulder this time.
"This way then?" Wells asked.
"Yeah," Bellamy said stepping around to get behind his. "A little higher now."
He lifted the gun higher and leaned his head down to look through the sights.
"Higher," Bellamy insisted. "You shouldn't be bending your neck to look through the sights."
Wells followed his direction and raised the gun higher, so he wasn't bending his neck. Surprisingly, he found the position more comfortable.
"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."
'Deep breath in', Wells told himself mentally. 'Half breath out. Relax and squeeze.'
The gun kicked in his arms and pressed back against his shoulder, but it was nothing too bad. There hadn't been as much recoil as he'd first anticipated.
"See?" Bellamy said. "Nothing to it."
"Yeah," Wells agreed still holding the gun in shooting position.
"Now," Bellamy said. "Try again, but this time really focus on aiming at the center of the X."
Wells centered the crosshairs on the intersection of the two lines on the red canvas.
"Relax," Bellamy reminded him. "Don't get too excited."
Wells followed the breathing pattern Bellamy had told him 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."
"Here." Bellamy grabbed another gun.
"Watch and learn," Bellamy said confidently.
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.
"What happened to don't get too excited?" Wells quipped.
"My bullets are duds," Bellamy concluded. "You try again." He signaled for Wells to do it again.
Wells stepped up and focused on keeping the muzzle down. 'Don't anticipate the recoil,' she told herself. Wells pulled the trigger and saw the bullet pierce through the canvas below the X this time.
"Whoa." Wells breathed. Bellamy was trying his hardest not to smile. He made an encouraging hand gesture. "Go on."
Wells did so, pulled the trigger as the bullet pierced through.
Well, well." Bellamy said. "I knew there was a badass in there somewhere." He patted his shoulder. Wells smirk, maybe Clarke was right, maybe they have misjudged him.
"Alright," Wells said. "That's enough for me." He hands the gun over to Bellamy.
"I'm gonna see if I can find anymore barrels." Wells grabbed his light from the barrel and walked down another hallway. He walks a couple feet down the hallway before leaning against the wall and breathes harshly out of his mouth. Not in a million years, Wells would ever see himself getting along with Bellamy himself. He couldn't stand Bellamy. He hated everything he did ever since they got on the ground. But he knew needed to get over it. He knew he needed to forgive him, he has to. But even if he did, how is that gonna change with his father, will he forgive him? That's the more important thing he should worry about. He leans off wall and walked further down the walkway to find anything else useful for them and the camp. Down the hallway, he hears the sound of rifle firing sounds throughout the depot. The room seemed to be filled with him filled with blankets.
"You need to practice," He hears Bellamy voice coming from the other room.
"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." Clarke retorts. "You left Miller in charge of the grounder. You must trust him."
"You should keep him close. The others listen to him." Bellamy said, nonchalantly.
Clarke questioned. "I should keep him close? Bellamy what's going on? You've been acting weird all day."
Wells slid down the wall with the shadows covering him. If either one of them look down, they won't see him.
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.
Wait. How may rations did he take?
"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.
Wells stared at the wall in front of him. What did he just hear? Bellamy is leaving? Eventually, Wells crawled to his feet and makes his way back down the hallway. He slows down when he sees Clarke holding one of the rifles in her hands and starting to point the barrel of the gun at her. Wells lunged forward and snatched the gun out of her hands. "Clarke?!" Clarke snaps out of the weird look in her eyes. "I-I-I- I didn't..." She hawks at her hands. She seemed surprised of what she just did.
"Have you eaten anything today?" Wells began to fear the worst.
Clarke pats her pocket. "Just these nuts from camp."
Wells grabbed the pack of nuts out of her hands. There was a couple of them left in the bag. "How many of these have you eaten?"
"Just-just the bag."
Wells tossed the bag in the puddle of grease. "Do not eat anymore, got it?" He raised his voice. "Clarke?!" He shouted when she didn't answer him.
"Okay!" Clarke breathed out. Her pupils were dilating.
"Did Bellamy eat any of these?"
"Yeah why?"
Shit.
Wells grabbed her wrist and lead her back with all of the containers with blankets.
"I need you to stay here and don't move. Okay? Don't move!" He pointed his finger at Clarke and ran back toward the stairs.
Bellamy went outside to catch his breath. It was getting dark. He was getting a headache. He had so much going on. He hears a voice near him. "Bellamy Blake." He turns and sees Jaha in front of him clutching his stomach where his gunshot wound were with a death glare in his eyes.
Bellamy couldn't believe it. Jaha is up the Ark. How is he here? How is he talking to him right now, in front of him.
This doesn't make any sense.
"How are you here?" Bellamy asked, having no idea what the hell is going on. "You're on the Ark."
"You shot me on the Ark." Jaha said. "But I've been waiting for you." Jaha then released his hands from his stomach as the blood bleeds through his shirt.
"I did what I had to do." Bellamy said firmly. "To protect Octavia?" Jaha asked. "That's right." Bellamy answered.
"Pathetic." Jaha said with disappointment is his voice. "Using your sister to justify your crimes, your cruelty, your selfishness?" Jaha asked walking towards Bellamy.
"If your gonna kill me just do it." Bellamy said firmly.
Jaha stops. "Why sould I kill you? Unlike the others, I survived your treachery."
"What are you talking about?" Bellamy asked.
"The 320 souls that were culled from the Ark so that others could live." Jaha answered.
The radio. Bellamy started to realized his own mistake. "I didn't know that would happen." Bellamy had guilt in his voice.
"It's not my forgiveness you should seek." Jaha said while nodding towards beside Bellamy. "It's there's." People started to come out the woods around Bellamy whispering "Murderer." Chills started to go down Bellamy's spine. The shadows lurking just at the edge of his vision unnerved Bellamy. This was like every bad zombie movie you could ever think of. Jaha then had gotten closer to Bellamy and whisper in his ears "Murderer." Bellamy started to snap. He pushed Jaha. "Just stop!" He roared as he ran away from and all of the other people, although he was aware they were behind him.
To be continued