The 100 | [PG-13]
Canon divergent. With the Apocalypse banging at their door, the Arkadians and what’s left of Trikru take refuge in the remains of Alpha Station and hope for the best.
Over 500 souls crammed into a tin can, but there’s only one that has Bellamy wrapped around her little fingers.
Chapter One: Can’t Save Everyone
Thunder cracks in the distance as clouds gather over the mountains. Bellamy pointlessly watches the trees for trouble. The forest is eerily quiet without the familiar sounds of insects and birds. The animals are all gone. The grounders have fled to Arkadia or are trying their luck in Polis, mistakenly thinking their city will protect them. The planet is dying. And there’s nothing we can do about it.
Another rumble of thunder sets him on edge. They’ve been waiting months for the black rain to start. Every dark cloud, every rumble of thunder, every rain shower threatens to be their last. On the horizon, lightning snakes across the sky. Already the air tastes sour. The breeze that should be damp before the storm prickles his skin with static electricity. It won’t be long.
Miller holds up a test tube and shakes it, his expression grim.
He tosses the tube into the woods before wiping his hands on his pants. “Tainted.”
Bellamy sighs. “That’s every stream within five miles. There’s no clean drinking water left. Nothing will survive out here.”
“We can’t save everyone, Bellamy,” Miller murmurs. Lightning flashes, and the thunder that follows is closer. “Let’s get the hell out of here. We’re not going to find anything.”
They start walking at a steady pace, the storm trailing behind them. They spent the last two days going through every grounder village they could find looking for refugees. The grounders that didn’t try to kill them also didn’t want their help. They wouldn’t listen to reason no matter what.
Bellamy hates to think of what will happen to them. But he can’t force them. They pleaded for over an hour at the door of a widow with five children. He could tell she was already getting sick. They begged to take the children, but she refused. The thought coils in his stomach, making him sick.
Next to him, Miller snorts.
“What?” Bellamy asks.
“I just never thought we’d find ourselves back here. You know, locked up in that tin can. After everything.” He shakes his head. “But, hey, Alpha Station. Better than being stuck in Mecha.”
Bellamy chuckles. “Just be glad it wasn’t the Skybox that survived the crash.”
Miller visibly shivers, making Bellamy laugh again. A crack of a branch to their left has them both tensed. It’s getting late, and the storm clouds aren’t helping visibility. Bellamy scans the forest for signs of movement. Just when he thinks it was nothing, there’s a crunch of leaves. Bellamy signals Miller to go around the left while he flanks on the right.
They move silently—in sync after all of these months on the ground—careful not to alert whatever might be hiding. From the scuffling noises, it sounds big. Bigger than a rabbit or fox. Not that they’ve seen many of those around lately. But anything could possibly be food.
Bellamy’s getting closer. He hears a growl from his left and realizes the animal is hunting something else. Two for the price of one. He sets himself up to take out the predator once it’s captured its prey.
Through the brush, Bellamy sees sleek black fur rippling over smooth muscle. One of those panthers then. God, he hates them. They’re fast and savage, and their nails are like razors. Niylah swears Clarke took one down all on her own with only a knife. Clarke will neither deny nor confirm that Wanheda myth. Bellamy’s not sure if he believes it, but it’s Clarke so anything’s possible. He smiles at that thought then curses himself for losing the panther in the trees.
He hunches down, weaving between low branches, searching the surrounding area for a glimpse of black. He hears a whimper from ahead and presses up against a tree. He peers around it. The cat is off to the right—its yellow eyes glowing through some ferns. To his left, the prey.
Bellamy squints in the dim light, trying to make out what kind of animal it is. His eyes widen with a gasp. “No.” He glances back at the cat as it readies to pounce, and without thinking, he moves.
The cat races forward at the same time Bellamy does. He launches himself at the cat’s prey, grabbing it around the waist and rolling. It screams. Something slices into Bellamy’s shoulder, but he doesn’t let go. He curls around the tiny body in his arms as the cat screeches. He can feel its breath on his neck. Jesus.
Then there’s a pop pop pop and a howl.
Feet pound up behind him. “What the hell are you doing?” Miller shouts. “Are you insane?”
Bellamy falls onto his back with a groan as pain shoots through his shoulder. The small girl looks up at them with a quivering lip then starts to wail.
That’s the understatement of the century.
To be continued.