𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐭︱raven reyes, book 1

xxv. destroyer of worlds

"June." Clarke saying her name softly had June letting her eyelids flicker open and stare back in question. "You should go lay down," she suggested, noticing the way she was barely standing without gripping the ladder. "Drink some water, cough if you need to."

A snort came from June, along with a small, amused smile. "I don't see you getting any rest," she pointed out with a tilt of her head. "There's too many of us sick here, and I'm much more worried about them. They need help." As if it was on cue, a female delinquent in the corner of the dropship started coughing, the sound wet and rough. June sent one last lingering gaze to her friend before pushing her weight off the ladder and wandering towards the noise.

As June patted the ill female's back comfortingly, waiting until she managed to cough up the blood lodging in her throat so she could rush to get her some water, June pondered in her thoughts about Murphy. When she looked up, she could see him resting on a hanging sheet with his eyes shut. She remembered when she hated him more than any person in this camp for taunting Wells, even trying to kill him in vengeance for his father when he had done nothing. June's jaw clenched at the memory, but she said nothing. She knew his banishment was still in place, and he'd be gone once this blew over.

Although the time was before, and they were here now, June couldn't help but feel as if Murphy was only a ticking time bomb that would go off and take whoever is in his way with him. June tore her stare away as she poured water into a cup held by a trembling hand, a familiar unsettling emotion stirring in her chest.

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June didn't consider chaos would be the first thing to erupt when the sickness washed over half their camp, including the gunners. She felt the same as time went by, possibly a little better after forcing herself to move around the dropship so much, taking some two minute breaks for a drink or to shut her eyes for time to herself momentarily. It was as June was helping a new ill male into an orange blanket and settling him next to a bucket that havoc arose just outside of Clarke's quarantine inside the dropship.

"Take this if you cough up anything," June instructed, sliding the bucket beside him. "If you can't breathe - " She was cut off by the sound of shouting, various delinquents exclaiming words she couldn't understand as they blended into one another with the sound of fear. Her head shot up at the sound. "Hey, you!" June exclaimed as loud as she could to the first one she could see. "He'll get sick soon. If he can't breathe, roll him on his side," she ordered, not waiting for a respond or a nod before she was stumbling to her feet and heading straight for the opening.

"Calm down!" June recognized Bellamy's voice echoing through the camp, trying to silence everyone.

"Put that gun down. Put it down!" Finn called out next, having June attempt to limp faster.

As soon as June's hand brushed the edge of the cloth in front of the opening, it was ripped to the side and she came face to face with Clarke, startling her. "Everyone - everyone is pointing guns at each other, and, and..." She stammered anxiously, desperately trying to find words.

"Here." An idea popped in June's head. She stepped to the side, grabbing the first gun she saw and pushed the firearm into Clarke's hands. Clarke loaded it quickly with shaking hands, moving back out of the dropship, the cloth falling behind her, showing a shadow. She lifted the gun in the air, and a gunshot echoed, the bullet flying to the sky.

A wave of dizziness washed over June, but she steadied herself by balancing her hand on the wall and hearing Clarke's speech. "This is exactly what the grounders want. Don't you see that?" Footsteps thudded as she walked down the open door. "They don't have to kill us if we kill each other first."