The 100 WalKing away chapter 7 Weakness and Death

Hello, I started this story at the start of season 4 and took it into a complete different direction. Once the shows new season began I backed away from it. At a request I am starting back up, and will see where it goes. Some characters are totally different..Roan, Luna and Ilian are all still alive in this one, and Bellamy stayed in the bunker, Clarke and Raven went to space, leaving Bellamy to struggle with moving on without Clarke... let's see where this verson goes...hope you like it.

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Carter needed to relieve himself so he stepped outside of the shack. It was dark and misting rain. The moon reflected on the mud, lighting streaks of blue and white like glass on the wet ground. The gleam off the full moon lit the area just enough for Carter to see Bellamy's body was gone.

"Lang," he shouted. "Lang, get out here."

Lang rushed outside, followed by several others. The tone in Carters voice told them of the urgency. "The grounders gone," Carter said. "Find him, He couldn't have gotten far, not in his condition."

"You said he was dead," Lang argued.

"If he wasn't dead, he was close to it," Carter said "We need to find him."

"What's the point," One of the others said. "He probably crawled away to die."

""The point is, he could have friends," Carter said. "You really want a bunch of crazed savages out for revenge?"

At that, the men began searching. It was dark, raining and hard to see anything. The men searched for hours, and finally gave up, retreating back to the shack and the warm fire. By morning they searched again, but found nothing. "It's like he vanished," Lang said. "I don't like it."

"We should leave," one of the men said.

"Why?' Carter argued. "He was one kid, and even if he's not dead, he aint coming back; besides, we have food here and a place that's warm," Carter said.

Bellamy used some of the rainwater he collected in the pot to clean his face after he had his fill first. He still couldn't open his eye, it was swollen shut. His jaw was swollen and the gashes on his face reminded him of the past. He was used to those as well as his busted lip. He felt like his nose may be broken, and a rib or two. He coughed up some blood, it didn't alarm him, he had had worse. He was hungry and wished he had thought to grab some meat from the smokehouse and corn before he left to hide, but he figured his teeth and jaw would be too sore to eat anything anyway.

He got the rusty knife and a large stone from the floor and began dragging the side of the blade across it. He spent hours sharpening it. He needed a weapon if he was going to kill those men. With each stroke across the stone, he plotted his revenge. He would strike at night. They wouldn't see him coming. Darkness grew in him. The darkness brought on by those men. He knew if he walked away, they could follow. They could strike again at any time. Nobody was safe with them roaming around. He thought of Octavia, Murphy, Emori, Harper and Monty. What if they ran into these cut throats? No it was his responsibility to take care of the threat.

Bellamy spent two days sneaking out; hunting food, and supplies. He was still sore, but was ready to put his plan into action. The men that stole his home and tried to kill him had picked the wrong victim.

It was midnight with a quarter moon, so darkness was heavy. He had watched and noticed that each night they had a man standing guard. He waited until the bearded man walked towards the smoke house. Bellamy threw the spear with accuracy. He had gotten good with it, thanks to Roan. The shock on the dead man's face when it went through his chest was clear. The only sound was the swish of the weapon sailing through the air, and the thud of his body hitting the ground. Bellamy stayed in the shadows until he knew that no one was coming out, and no one knew of the sneak attack.

He quickly emptied the smokehouse of any food that was left. He returned and dragged the man's body inside and hung the corpse up where the food had once been. Bellamy remembered the hidden knife inside the door frame and took it. He loaded the meat, what little was left, and carried it back to the root cellar, careful to hide his tracks.

He went back to check and see if the man's body had been found. It had not. Everyone was still sleeping. Bellamy sat and waited. It wasn't long before a second man stumbled out into the cold. He mumbled something as he relieved himself in the bushes next to the shack. Bellamy threw a rock across the yard and the man quickly zipped his pants and turned. He quietly yelled to his friend, who was supposed to be guarding the camp. He walked towards the smokehouse and the moment he peered inside, Bellamy stepped up behind him. The man quickly turned and Bellamy's knife found his chest. The heavy man fell to the ground, and Bellamy's face staring back at him was the last thing he saw.

Bellamy hoisted his body up alongside the other victim. He grabbed an armload of corn and made his way back to the root cellar, again covering his tracks.

Bellamy went back and like a ghost in the night, he found Lang and Carter as they both came out to check on their men. Bellamy threw the spear and caught Carter in the chest. No sooner than Lang saw his friend fall, Bellamy's knife found its way into Lang's skull. Bellamy was spotted. The horror of what he had done didn't go unnoticed and the remaining men were frightened. They hadn't witnessed such savagery before. They barricaded themselves in the shack. Their leaders were butchered before their eyes and they didn't want to be next.

"It's six to one. We can take him," Troy said.

"He's like an animal," Mack said. He was clearly shaken up. "He killed them both in seconds," he cried "Were all going to die."

"Carter said he was dead," Alan said. "He's a ghost."

"Carter was wrong," Troy said.

"I say we run," said Mack.

The others agreed.

"I don't think we need to go anywhere right now. It's dark and he's out there somewhere," said Alan

"We leave at first light," said Troy.

"Where do we go? We don't know who else is out there," said George. He had stayed quiet, but it was clear, he wanted to rejoin his people. "I think we need to go back," he added.

The others agreed. "Okay," said Troy. "We go back, and we need to report this," he said.

"But what do we say?" asked Mack. "That Lang tried to kill that kid, and the kid got pissed off?"

"No we just say a crazy man attacked and murdered our friends," said Troy "for no reason at all."

Bellamy felt sick. Bellamy took no joy in killing. He felt as if he were losing his mind. He not only kept seeing the faces to the men he killed, but it brought back memories of his past, and his promise to Kane to do better. What was he doing? This wasn't who he wanted to be. Aside from the emotional sickness he felt, he was beginning to actually feel physically sick. "This isn't worth killing someone over," he said to himself. Bellamy decided he was going to move on. He would never forget about the men that tried to kill him, and how he killed them instead. He had not changed. He couldn't be around people, not if this is what he was turning into.

He looked at the blood on his hands, and for the first time needed to see it in the light. He stepped out of the cellar and into the sparse moonlight. It looked black! How did he not notice before? In his anger and rage, the realization had escaped him. These men were night bloods. Who were they? Were they survivors from another Mt Weather facility?

Bellamy made his way to the creek and cleaned the blood from his hands. He stumbled and crashed to the ground. Why was he so tired? He felt like something was wrong. He found his way back to the root cellar and curled up into a ball on the old blanket.

When Light peeked in from the cracks of the opening, Bellamy woke and didn't feel much better. He knew he had been seen and he should try and escape before he was found, but he couldn't find the energy. He stayed where he was. He had covered his tracks like he did in the past, but knew his luck wouldn't last forever. Maybe this is how he was supposed to die; alone in a dark pit. He didn't care right now. He was too weak to care. His killing those men took all of his energy. He was already weak , but now he knew he was dying.