DAY 46
The entrance to Polis, and everything that lay behind, looked simultaneously like nothing Clarke had ever imagined, as well as her worst nightmare whenever she closed her eyes. The giant figures of buildings lay eerily silent, not a single noise in the entire city. The entire surface was blackened, the remains of burned things scattered across the ground like a thick, malicious covering of snow.
The first apocalypse had not been kind to whatever city this had been before, and the second had been no less understanding. Clarke wondered if this is what Polis looked like when the first grounders found it all those years ago? Was everything they stumbled upon the result of years of building in their own image? Would humans get that opportunity to do it again?
"C'mon, this is giving me the creeps," Bellamy muttered, tightening his jacket, as though it was protection from the unnerving feelings that Clarke was experiencing also, "Let's find the bunker quickly."
Clarke could not agree more.
Even in the desolation of the city, it was easy to find the old Heda tower. It had only crumbled half-way. This gave Clarke a thrill of a feeling, as though she were proud of it, when all the other buildings had fallen and roofs lay scattered among foundations, this one had stood the test of fire. It was a beacon, a sign of hope that flared in Clarke's heart and made her foolishly imagine that they would be perfectly fine.
As they approached the entrance, Clarke's toe hit something lightweight and ivory. It skittered across the ground and it wasn't until it hit a wall and stopped that Clarke realized she'd just kicked a bone.
She threw out her arms, stopping Bellamy.
"We're walking on a graveyard," Bellamy said in horror. Now that Clarke's eyes were scanning the ground, she could see the whites of remains peeking out from the gray ash. Though some of the bones had been upended by the fire and winds, it was abundantly clear that these people were all laid out in neat rows, as though they were in a general camp cabin and had all forgotten about the impending apocalypse, and simply gone to sleep.
Though there were no identifying markers left, such as clothes or hair or even flesh, Clarke's mind whirled. She felt herself sink to her knees, her legs unable to hold her.
"They're ours," She said in a quiet, angry and mournful tone. Bellamy made a sound above her, one of surprise but also confusion. He didn't get it.
Clarke's fingers shakily reached out for a skull closest to her. She brought it close to her chest like it was a baby bird, careful not to hold it too tightly, and shook as she cried.
"Clarke," Bellamy leaned down next to her, panic painted across his face, "What do you mean?" He was near frantic.
Clarke had often been frustrated with her given title, Wanheda, but until she stood on the bodies of her people, alive once again, she'd never felt it so personally. She was the survivor of death and had brought all these people to their end. Perhaps it would have been kinder for the entire Ark to die out, like a candle slowly flickering to the end of its wick.
"It's…" Clarke tried to form the words, "There were too many of the SkaiKru in the bunker. When Octavavia won and split it equally, most of us had to go," Clarke's voice was clogged as she fought back tears, "These are all the ones who didn't make the cut. It's our people, Bell."
Even though she felt proud of Octavia, and she didn't completely identify with the SkaiKru anymore, Clarke still felt something like a black hole open inside of her, sucking in the good and pushing out the bad. She could have named everyone who made the perilous journey to the ground. They had survived so much to die like this?
She wondered who this was, as she brought the skull in front of her face, searching for any sort of sign. She'd made a list. She didn't know if Jasper and Octavia had found it, or if they'd even used it. Many on the list had perished before they reached the bunker. Some might have been deemed unworthy for this new life. Clarke had no idea how they decided.
"None of them look young," Bellamy said cautiously, a bit more stable. Clarke realized that he must have thought she was talking about Octavia, in that perhaps they had never made it in. He sounded a little mournful over the loss of their people, but he'd never loved those who had killed his mother or locked up his sister like Clarke had loved them. His entire experience on the Ark had been nothing short of torture, and while Bellamy wasn't glad they burned, he was not extolling or addressing a sort of sadness either, "But maybe I can't tell," He added.
Clarke set the skull back down gingerly. She stood, pressing the backs of her palms to her eyes, composing herself. She could sit here and cry, but these people were long dead, and hopefully somewhere better.
"There's a path, there." She pointed to their left. Someone had lovingly arranged everyone. Clarke hoped that perhaps they were dead or knocked out by the time the wave hit. Even if their pain would have been mere moments before they were incinerated, she wouldn't want the last thing they remembered to be that feeling.
They approached the side of the tower. No, the front. The back?
It was hard to tell.
Bellamy ran round the edges, cursing all the way when he came back. Clarke cursed herself for letting him exert so much energy; she should have.
"The fuck do we get in?" He asked.
"There's no entrance?" Clarke asked, frowning, stepping back to stare up at the monolith that still arched over them.
"Not anymore," Bellamy said. He frowned, eyes looking at the assemblage of rocks and stone that blocked them. He started tapping at locations, pressing and pulling.
It seemed to be doing nothing until he grasped the edge of a stone.
"Here!" He said, looking back, "Don't just stand there, help!"
Now that he was mere feet away from his sister, his expression and drive shifted. Clarke found this sheer rock to be leaning and as she and Bellamy were able to lift it a few inches, she could see a pathway beneath.
"Good job!" She breathed when the rock slammed back down.
"Not good enough," Bellamy said, angry at himself. He wiped his muddy hands on his shirt, "Here." He said, spotting a broken pipe. He eased it under the rock. Clarke admired him for a moment; there wasn't space for her to step in, and she was sure Bellamy would bite her head off if she tried to talk him down. His face was beautiful, even under duress. Though he'd been on bed rest for nearly two months, he still had some musculature. She never properly admired it before this...at least, not in a way she wanted to admit.
"Should I give it a go?" She offered gently, hoping to ease him away.
Bellamy stepped back, kicking it, "Yeah. Damn it. If I weren't sick-,"
"I know. You'd easily be able to," Clarke said. She braced her bad leg so that she wasn't putting weight on it and pushed hard. As the rock started to move, Bellamy got in on the other side. With his help, they shoved the offending rock flat. It puffed up dust, human ash, and charcoal into the air.
Clarke and Bellamy coughed into their sleeves.
Bellamy crouched low, staring into the darkness, "Looks suspiciously unsafe," He turned back, a wry grin, "But do we have another choice?"
It was rhetorical. It was bunker or bust; they both knew it.
They spent the day clearing out debris, stones, and foundational pieces from the tunnel. Neither knew if they were tunneling in the right direction or if this was going to lead them to the bunker entrance, but it seemed they were out of other choices.
They ate one of the last few packs of food. They had two days, as Clarke had predicted, even with the help of the rover. They had not expected that the entrance would be caved in, but perhaps they should have.
They worked in rotation, taking naps, eating, and taking just a moment to listen to Maya's music. Clarke found she could not sleep fitfully; even her naps were full of trauma and nightmares which startled her awake before she fully entered REM. She knew this was unsustainable; the best sleep she'd had was with Bellamy in the desert, but she could not survive without rest.
She was trying to sleep, very unsuccessfully, when Bellamy shook her awake. She'd been fully aware of how his foot crushed the dirt under his feet. The wind whipped around the open back of the rover, making weird whispers in her ear that if she let herself slip under sounded like the voices of all those who were dead.
"I made it," He breathed. His entire face was dusty and a few shades darker than usual, due to the blackness of the ground currently. When he wiped his fingers across his cheeks, it smudged two lines, bright against the cloying particles.
Clarke shot up, "Yeah?"
Bellamy licked his lips, "It's the chamber to the entrance. It's here."
Clarke scrambled out of the rover, almost throwing herself down the staggered pathway in the tunnel. Her hands scraped the sides of the walls as she tripped to the surface, her eyes catching the room once reserved for those who worshiped Becca and her image.
"Where's the…" She frowned.
Bellamy got on the floor, pushing some dust up. The sound of metal tapping cued them into where it was visible.
"More rocks," He laughed, "Suppose it couldn't be easy."
There were no more taking turns. It had been a full day since they'd arrived in Polis and they could not afford to lose this time. Plus, the anxiety and excitement upon finding it, finally, had both of them wide-eyed and awake.
They managed to clear away most of the rubble. Enough so, theoretically, they should be able to open the door, at least enough to slip in. Bellamy grasped at the handle, pulling and pulling to no avail. Even when Clarke joined in, it would not budge.
Clarke stumbled backward, biting her lip in anger.
She reached out and felt something smooth.
In her absolute singular focus in finding the hatch and clearing out space, she'd failed to notice a structure half-buried in the corner.
Her fingers reverently ghosted over the frame of the throne, something clogging up her throat.
"That's…" Bellamy whispered, coming to stand next to her, "You okay?"
"Huh?" Clarke's mind felt very far away, miles and miles and a time and place apart.
"I know you really loved her," Bellamy said quietly, "And I never got to say sorry, not really."
Clarke stared at the throne, recalling how Lexa sat on it. Her heart was heavy, just for a moment.
"I did," She said, unable to lie to him. She ground her teeth, "But we are alive, and she is not."
She grasped one of the wooden spears that made up the throne, ignoring Bellamy's half-spoken 'stop', intent on using this as a tool again.
Before she could slide it underneath the handle, the world around them shook. Dust fell from the sky like rain and the whole building quivered.
Bellamy threw himself back, pulling Clarke sharply by the stomach as he went. They hit the entrance to their tunnel hard, and he scrambled just out of the way, Clarke dragging behind him before the structure broke. They both watched in horror as the whole of the building fell in on itself, concealing their entrance and their only hope entirely.
The piece of wood was still in her hand.
"Are you fucking insane? Didn't you see that it was holding up a wall?" he demanded.
"No, I-," Clarke bit back angrily, but her fury died. It had been her mistake. She'd been too lost in memories and so foolishly intent on throwing them away that she'd been stupid.
"We have to get in there," Bellamy said, grasping at small rocks and throwing them behind him, "We have to…" Yet, even as he spoke, the reality set in. It would take weeks to clear away Clarke's mistake, and they did not have the energy or food for that. Not by her guess.
"I've killed us," Clarke said in a moment of understanding, staring at Bellamy who was still trying to clear a path, "I'm so sorry. I…" She had never felt so horrible.
Bellamy coughed hard, standing back. He ran his fingers through his hair, his hands falling still on the top of his head, stoic as a statue.
"The building could have collapsed on its own," He mumbled to himself, hanging his shoulders low, "And maybe we wouldn't have…"
"Stop it." Clarke hissed, "Stop trying to make me feel better."
He sniffled, falling to sit on his bottom, turned away from the building, "Clarke-,"
"It's my fault." She whispered again.
"I could have made that mistake too," He said, but she doubted it, "It's not going to...we shouldn't…"
He pressed his lips together. He looked back at the building, his face settling you into a deep frown, "We're both stupid. And naive."
Clarke stared, unsure where this was coming from. He didn't seem to even notice her, his gaze fixed on the ground.
"What were the chances we'd get in there anyway? That we could even be let in?" He sounded very quiet and very pensive. In light of events, this scared Clarke.
"What?"
"We were chasing an imaginary hope," He said quietly, "They would have been risking their lives to let us in. We're two people who most of the grounders hate. It would be selfish and if I were on the other side, I'm not sure I...you surely wouldn't have. You wouldn't let people in."
The memory of pulling a gun on Bellamy was burned into her mind. It was one of her biggest regrets to date.
"I-,"
"It would have been the right choice," Bellamy said firmly, "We should be honest with ourselves. Do we fucking deserve any of that?" He asked, "Do you think we were spared death as some kind of treat? Fuck, this isn't it. Don't you see?"
Clarke frowned, placing her chin on her knees, "You think we're being punished."
"We've single-handedly brought the death of hundreds, if not thousands," Bellamy said, stretching out, staring up at the sky. It was still so blue, surprisingly, "I think this is our hell. It's our punishment."
"You really believe that?" Clarke asked. Bellamy's eyes were far away from here.
"Yeah, I do." He said quietly, "And I don't disagree. We deserve this. I deserve this."
Clarke crawled over to him. Without having to ask, he allowed her to curl up on his side.
"So...we either starve or we finish it. But it's one or the other." Clarke surmised, "And we had time together but it's been spoiled by the choices we made in past lives."
"Basically."
Clarke breathed in hard, tears gathering in her eyes. She considered that maybe Bellamy was right. Maybe some god still did exist up there and this was the culmination of every bad thing they'd ever done. Someone was laughing at them and spitting on their very existence, waiting to see which they'd choose.
Clarke looked up, caressing Bellamy's cheek. He closed his eyes, sinking into her touch like it was a magic salve. She traced the thin scars on his face from falling rocks, mapping the older scars from the year on the ground.
She was on death's door. She knew that they were too sensible to think that there might be a last-ditch chance. This had been it. They were out of options; Becca's lab had no food and the world was dead. They could scrounge around Polis, but chances are it was incinerated or full of mold.
She felt like she had faced death, stared it in the face, so many times before, but this moment felt starkly different.
She would hate herself if she died without ever kissing Bellamy Blake.
Just as she was leaning up, inches away from softly pressing her lips to his, there was static.
Bellamy whipped his head up, expression snapping into place.
Clarke paused. At first, she thought it was a trick of her ears.
Then, the static grew louder and more audible.
"-arke? Clarke? Oh, god, I hope I'm just talking to the wind…You up there?" It was a sing-songy voice, but one laced with frustration.
"Jasper," Bellamy muttered, diving for his backpack. They'd brought a small hand-held radio, but somehow in the heat of the work, it had slipped both their minds to attempt to contact everyone down there. At least someone had survived in the bunker, which boded well for the rest.
Bellamy's fingers couldn't hit the talk button, so Clarke took it from his hands, "Yes. I'm here."
"Awe...fuck." Jasper said after a long moment, "You-,"
"Uhm, I'm here too," Bellamy said his voice breaking.
There were a sharp gasp and a sob on the other end of the line. Bellamy winced; Octavia. Followed was the sound of frantic moving and lots of shouting and yelling on the other end.
There seemed to be a scuffle for the radio until someone spoke again.
"Why in the hell are you not up in space? How are you not dead?" Octavia's voice was warbling, as though she was trying not to cry, but holding it together for the moment, "Clarke, I'm not surprised that you're still kicking down here."
"Gee, thanks," Clarke said, but couldn't help but smile a bit.
"Honey?" Abby said and Clarke covered her mouth.
"Mom?"
"Not now!" Octavia snapped, "Bellamy, you'd better have a good-ass answer…"
"I'm a nightblood now," Bellamy said, looking sideways at Clarke, "Surprise?"
"Shittiest surprises in the history of the universe," Octavia spat, "Oh if I were face to face, I'd slap you silly." Bellamy rubbed his cheek, as though feeling the phantom sting.
"Oh, I'm sure you would."
"There was lots of noise down here. What happened? Where are you guys? You're in Polis, aren't you?" Jasper said, taking the receiver back over. Sometimes it surprised Clarke to remember how he'd taken control of the kids at Mount Weather. He was a leader and right now was handling the weight well. Octavia and her mother were, very understandable, a bit emotional. She could hear Kane in the background, as well as Indra. She doubted that the pair were feeling overwhelmed by this revelation.
"Yeah, we're here," Bellamy licked his lips, as though weighting something, "We were, uh, trying to clear a path to open the bunker. The foundation was unstable and it collapsed in." Bellamy very obviously chose not to throw Clarke under the bus.
She was grateful but still felt guilty.
"The whole building?" Octavia echoed worriedly, "But, I mean if you were clearing a path before…It wasn't opening from our side. We tried to get to you, well, Clarke."
"O," Bellamy whispered gently, "Before, it was manageable. Smaller pieces. Even if we had the tools, I'm unsure...it's stuck." He said. There was a moment of silence on their end.
"Well, good thing you have five years to dig us out," Octavia said dryly, "I've been down here for less than three months and I'm ready to go back outside."
Bellamy gave a sad laugh, holding back a sob, "Yeah, five years."
Clarke wasn't sure if Octavia didn't pick up on his tone or chose not to, but she seemed fine with that answer. There was some whispering on the other end, the sound of a door opening, and then there was a slow silence.
"Octavia is going to tell the group that it was you two. Everyone's wondering," Jasper said, his voice guarded, "It's just me and Kane in the room now."
"Uhm, hi?" Clarke said, shrugging.
"Oh, cut the bull. I know you well enough to know that your tone isn't promising," Jasper snorted, "What are you not telling Octavia or your mom?"
There was a shared look between Bellamy and Clarke, an unspoken question. Clarke gave a slow nod the same moment Bellamy did. They were in agreement.
"Jas, we won't make it two days," Bellamy whispered.
"Fuck."
"Even though we survived the radiation, the rest of the world didn't," Clarke took over, hating that she was imaging the look on Jasper's face right now, "There's nothing out here and we don't have any food. Not much more, at least. Our last chance was the bunker and-," She used to be better at giving bad news without crying. Now, she couldn't stop.
"Have you been to Arcadia yet?" Kane spoke from the side.
"No, we came right here once we left Becca's lab," Bellamy said, brows knitting in confusion.
"Yes!" Jasper said in the background, his voice lighting up with excitement, "Why didn't I...awe, you're a genius, Kane!"
"Care to explain?" Clarke asked.
"Food! Seeds! There are some seeds that survived from Agro station, way back when. We buried them in the ground, in like five boxes, for safekeeping. We left them because the soil down here wasn't sustainable, but at least that should get you started!"
"But the soil here-,"
"It's a big world, Clarke. Do you really think everything is truly gone?" Kane broke in. Clarke frowned. She couldn't prove him wrong, not when they'd only seen a small portion. True, the fact that there was nothing to see yet did not bode well for the rest of the universe, but perhaps Kane was right.
"We might as well try," Bellamy said, but still seems jumpy. They'd get there tomorrow. They were sure as hell cutting it close unless they halved their rations. They could do that, Clarke thought internally, they were going to survive.
"Until the end?" Bellamy asked, covering the radio for a second. Clarke gave a quiet smile.
"I'll go to the ends of the earth if you want to," She said honestly. Bellamy gave the first genuine smile she'd seen in a while.
"We'll try," Bellamy said, coming back to the radio.
"Great! Sorta. Uhm, for sure radio us back, if you get the chance...I'll just be waiting here, anxiously. Seeing if you can narrowly escape death...again."
"At this point, we're rather masters at it," Bellamy said jokingly. She could hear Jasper snort.
"Right. I'll get your mom and Octavia so you guys can talk to them." But he didn't leave right away, "Bellamy, you think I should tell her?"
"That we're inches from death?" Bellamy widened his eyes, "I'm not sure Jasper. I'm honestly just not sure. I'll leave that choice up to you."
