Do Not Go Gentle--A Bellarke Story

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Clarke grips her gun fiercely. She will never let its fierce protection go. As she marches with the large band of people--her people--she carefully inspects the gun. There. Her fingers find the safety, which Bellamy has carefully turned on. That was probably good on his part. She hadn't even thought about turning her safety on until now, and they must have walked a good half mile.

Everything still seems strange to her. Turning her head from side to side, she sees the people surrounding her, gripping guns like her own as well as knives and handmade spears. And yet, out of all the people who surround her, not a single one can be older than eighteen. What happened to the adults, she wonders.

She stores away the question for later. It is irrelevant now. It doesn't matter their age. It matters that she can see such fierce love in their eyes. Love for her.

She doesn't tear up then. But she cries on the inside.

"Monty?" A strong voice says beside her. "Come in, Monty."

There is a long screech. And then a staticky voice is coming through the walkie that is in Bellamy's hand. The voice is not familiar, but since Bellamy and her seemed to have been friends, and he must trust Monty, Clarke assumes that she too knew and trusted Monty.

"I'm here. Sorry it took a while."

Bellamy gives his head a small shake before speaking once again. "We good?"

A pause. The walkie screeches. "We're good. Don't worry about us, boss. I've almost reestablished the connection. I'll radio back in a few."

Bellamy smirks, giving the machine a half-smile. "Good. Let's finish this. I'm going off now. Radio back when it's done."

He pushes a button and the staticky background noise stops.

"I guess Monty's good with tech, huh?" Clarke asks Bellamy, who is clipping the walkie back on his belt loop.

"Like you wouldn't believe. We've also got a mechanic with him. They make quite the team."

"A mechanic? Is he an adult?"

Bellamy laughs and shakes his head. "He's a she. And not quite. She's only eighteen."

Clarke turns away, shocked. In this society, is everyone so young? Is this the entire population of humans? Clarke has too many questions for her to find out the answers by herself. So instead of waiting around for the answers to fall into her lap, she decides to ask the hard questions.

"Who are we?" she asks Bellamy, who has not left her side. "Why are there no adults?" She pauses to shake her head. "Where are our parents?"

If Bellamy is shocked by her questions, he doesn't show it. "Some of our parents are dead."

Still, she does not understand. "Only some? Where are the rest? What happened to them?"

Now Bellamy reacts to her questions. He blinks hard and clenches his jaw, looking away from her as though her questions have hurt him. "We left them behind," he tells her.

And then, as Bellamy quickens his pace to walk forward, leaving her behind for the first time that day, some of the pieces click together. We left them behind. Somehow these people, herself included, left behind their parents and their families to go to this place.

Clarke holds her gun tighter, and tries to remember everything that she has seen in the past twenty four hours that could help her figure out this mystery. Something that all these teenagers could have left in.

It would have to be made of metal, probably, unless they traveled on foot. Somehow, she finds that possibility unlikely, and pushes it to the side. They have to have come in something made of metal.

And yet, how could they? The only thing made of metal in the camp was the. . . Oh. Oh!

She had woken in the metal room. She had talked to Bellamy, who had told her that the room she was staying in was called the drop ship. The drop ship had to have dropped from somewhere.

And then she realizes.

She came from the sky.

AN: sup y'all.

Guys season three comes out soon and I am dyinggggggggg. 

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