Silent Moments: Book One (The 100)

Chapter 26

In the tense aftermath of the bridge explosion, our camp was on high alert. We had extended our guard duty hours, maintaining a sharp vigil for any potential Grounder threats. The atmosphere was thick with anxiety and the palpable sense of imminent danger. If I had thought that Clarke, Finn, and Raven had been overprotective before, I quickly realized that their concerns had grown even more intense. It seemed that one of them was always nearby, their watchful eyes following my every move. The constant presence and the feeling of being closely monitored had become overwhelming, exacerbating the stress of our precarious situation.

As I walked through the camp's gate, I unexpectedly found Clarke waiting there. It appeared that our roles had reversed, and it was now my turn to arrive unannounced. This encounter marked a moment of connection amid the heightened tension, where unspoken emotions and concerns hung heavily in the air, waiting to be addressed.

"Anything?" I asked Clarke, my voice tinged with concern. She shook her head, her expression mirroring my unease.

"It's been two days. Maybe the bomb at the bridge scared them off for good," Clarke sighed, her gaze shifting towards me.

"You believe that?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow in skepticism.

"No. They're coming," she replied with a solemn certainty that sent shivers down my spine.

"Jasper thinks that he can cook up some more gunpowder if he gets some more sulfur. Raven said she could turn that into landmines, so watch your step," I attempted to lighten the mood with a jest, though the gravity of our situation lingered in the background.

"Ha! Funny," she responded with a smile that momentarily eased the tension. "What we really need is one thousand more of those tin can bombs so we could blow those Grounder villages right to hell."

I shot her a meaningful look, contemplating the grim reality of such an act.

"That's what they want to do to us," she reasoned, highlighting the brutal nature of the conflict we found ourselves in.

"I can't believe we survived one hundred years just to slaughter each other. There has to be another way," I lamented, my frustration and exhaustion evident in my voice.

"Any word from the Ark?" Clarke asked, shifting the topic to the distant hope of rescue.

"Radio silence," I replied somberly, my words punctuating the bleakness of our situation.

"They finally ran out of air," she sighed, acknowledging the harsh truth that had begun to settle in.

"Maybe she was lucky, being on the Exodus ship. At least it was quick," I said, offering a solemn reflection on the fate of those on the Ark.

"No one's coming down to save us," Clarke concluded with a heavy heart, resigning herself to the harsh reality of our isolation and the desperate struggle for survival on the ground.

***

I found myself inside the "meat shed," a humble place where we cured and preserved the meat. Octavia and I were hard at work, our hands skillfully slicing and hanging the meat, while Murphy and Max, a kid from the farm station, joined us in our efforts. Murphy, always quick with a sarcastic remark, couldn't resist commenting on our choice of tasks.

"Your siblings couldn't have gotten you two better jobs?" he quipped, a wry smile playing on his lips.

Octavia, never one to hold back, shot back at him with a roll of her eyes, "Yeah, but all that means is that someone else would have to do it."

Murphy simply shrugged and muttered a half-hearted "Whatever" before heading over to help Max. Octavia and I exchanged knowing glances, a shared understanding of the quirky dynamics within our group. As we continued to hang the meat, the temperature in the shed began to rise noticeably. I couldn't ignore the growing concern.

"Max, can you slow down on feeding the fire, please?" I requested, my voice tinged with worry. If the heat continued to escalate, we risked starting a fire within the confined space. Max, however, responded with a glare and defiantly added another log to the already roaring fire. I glared back at him, silently thinking that if this place went up in flames, it would be squarely on his shoulders.

The temperature continued to soar, and the fire grew uncontrollable. The meat hanging in the shed began to catch fire, and despite our frantic efforts to extinguish it, we had no choice but to abandon our work. I swiftly yanked the door open and helped Octavia escape from the increasingly perilous situation, her relief palpable as she breathed in the cooler air outside.

"Are you okay?" I asked her, my concern for her well-being evident in my voice. She nodded, grateful to be out of the stifling heat and potential danger.

"He told you not to put more wood on the fire!" Murphy's voice rang out angrily as he confronted Max. Frustration and tension boiled over as the two of them exchanged punches in their heated dispute. It took the intervention of Bellamy to break up the brawl and restore a semblance of order to the chaotic scene, leaving us all with a palpable sense of tension in the air.

"Save it for the Grounders," Bellamy's stern voice cut through the tension, bringing a temporary halt to the dispute between Murphy and Max.

The smokehouse, our sanctuary of preserved food, was engulfed in flames. Octavia's exclamation mirrored the shock and despair that rippled through us all. Our entire food supply had turned into ashes, leaving us on the brink of desperation. Clarke sought answers in the midst of the chaos. "Do we know what happened?" she asked Bellamy, her voice tinged with urgency.

Bellamy relayed Murphy's account, his words implying that Max's insistence on adding more wood to the fire had led to this catastrophic outcome. Clarke turned to me, her gaze a plea for confirmation. I nodded, silently acknowledging the unexpected alliance that had formed briefly in this situation. Murphy's version of events was oddly accurate this time.

With the reality of our dwindling food supply setting in, Clarke took charge. "We have some wild onions and nuts in the drop ship. It's only enough to last us one or two weeks. What's left here?"

I replied bluntly, not sugarcoating the grim truth. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It all burned."

Clarke's unwavering determination prompted her to devise a plan. "Then we have to hunt. Anyone we can spear goes out." She started to move away, but Bellamy halted her, voicing the concerns that had been circulating among us.

"With the whole Grounder Army out there?" he questioned, articulating the inherent dangers in her proposal. For once, I found myself agreeing with Bellamy. The risks seemed far too great to undertake such a venture.

Clarke, however, remained steadfast. "Look, we can't defend ourselves if we're starving." Bellamy sighed in reluctant agreement, releasing her arm.