Isaac felt like he was floating. It was a strange sensation; he could feel something soft pressed into his back yet he didn't feel completely there, and the room felt like it was swirling around him, almost as if he were back in space, outside with no gravity. His arms felt heavy and useless at his sides almost as if he weren't supposed to be able to move them. He tested them out and realized with great relief that he could, in fact, move his limbs.
His eyes were heavy and he felt almost drugged when they were closed, and happier. But he knew he needed to wake up, and so the first thing he did as he began to come back to his senses was force his eyelids open. He cringed visibly as he was met with a shining light, his surroundings being unbearably bright so that it hurt to look at it without squinting. Isaac groaned and dragged his arm up so that it rested on his forehead, just above his eyes, blocking out some of the bright light.
Using his other arm, he slid it back and planted his hand against the soft fabric that was underneath him, splaying his fingers out so that he could push himself forwards into a sitting position without wobbling or falling sideways, which he figured that at this point collapsing was the most appealing option. He was still so tired, like he was in a dream, not quite ready to be woken up but forcing himself to do so.
As soon as he was sat up his scooted back so that his back was pressed against a wall and, with his fingers blocking the light from above, looked around the room. It was pristine and everything was neatly arranged to the point of perfection. And everything was white; from the floors and walls and ceiling to the sheets of the bed he way laying in and the stand to his right. There was a cup on the stand of what looked to be water, and upon sighting it Isaac realized just how thirsty he was. But he refused to drink it, because he didn't know anything about the situation. It could be poisoned.
Looking down, Isaac noticed that not only was the room he was in spotless and white, but so were his clothes. While he was knocked out, somebody had changed his clothes to a plain white shirt and a pair of loose fitting, cotton shorts that ended just below his knees. Tugging the thin blanket away from his body, he noticed that his feet were bare. He was also cleaner than he'd seen himself in a long while. His skin was practically shining and it was clear that he'd been washed up. He ran a hand through his curls tentatively and noticed that they were sleek and bouncy, instead of the dirt-caked greasy mess that they had become to represent. His jawline was smooth and the small amount of hair that had been growing there had been shaved away.
Isaac ran his hands over his face with a sigh, and finally he noticed that there was a tube coming from his arm, putting something into his bloodstream from a bag that hung on a stand a few inches away from the bed, a clear substance inside of the packet. Immediately thinking the worst, Isaac took the tube in between his middle and index finger, carefully pulling it out of his arm. The spurt of pain that came from the spot as blood began to run down his arm made him hiss and he leaned down to rip of a strip of his shirt, wrapping the scrap of cloth around the cut the I.V. had made and tying it there in hopes to stop the bleeding. The place where it had been connected to him still stung and Isaac tried to ignore it, instead turning in his place on the bed so that his feet hung over the side. His legs were long and his toes were brushing against the ground, which was cold and hard.
With a grimace, he stood from the bed, jumping as a shiver ran up his spine from the coldness of the linoleum flooring. His bare feet slapped against the material as he padded across the room. There was a door in the middle of the wall that was directly across from the bed, and there was a circular window in the center of the door, the center of it about five feet off of the ground. He walked over to it and, being as awkwardly as he was, had to bend over so he could see through the window properly. Peering through the window, he was a hallway, just as white and clean as the room he was currently in. And on the other side of the hallway, just a few inches to the left, was another door, looking eerily similar to the door he was looking through at the moment.
He wasn't sure if anybody was in the room or not, but Isaac was hoping that there would be. He wasn't sure who he wanted it to be; Monty, because he'd been with Isaac when they were taken by the men in suits. Maybe he wanted it to be Clarke, because then he'd know where she was and that she was near him. Bellamy, because once they found a way to get out of their respective prisons he would definitely know what to do. Raven, because she was wittier than anybody he'd ever met before. Octavia, because she was his best friend. Jasper, because he was the man behind the magic of everything. Maybe even Murphy, because his ruthlessness would come in handy if they needed a quick escape.
Of course, Isaac would have liked to know what he was going to try and escape from. He had no idea what this place was. He had a feeling that told him it was someplace dangerous. He knew that whatever this place was, grounders and reapers had nothing to do with it. This was someplace new and terrifying and unfamiliar. Leaning forwards, Isaac pressed his cheek against the glass window, turning his head in an attempt to look down the hallway. He saw nothing when he gazed right, but when he turned his head to the left and pressed his cheek against the glass yet again, he saw a sign that was attached to the wall, just on the other side of the door across the hall.
MOUNT WEATHER
QUARANTINE WARD
Isaac felt his breath catch in his throat. He was in Mount Weather. Or at least, that's what it seemed like to him. His stomach swirled with anxiety and he was brought back to the night when he'd spoken with Clarke. Just before his embarrassing admission, he remembered Bellamy mentioning something about how Octavia had brought up the Mountain Men. This must be it, then, Isaac thought to himself. The Mountain Men live in Mount Weather, and they've taken us.
Turning back around, Isaac took some more time to survey his room. Looking up, he saw a metallic colored bulb hanging above his head and made a face at it. There had been one of those in his cell on the Ark; it had been smaller and less high tech, but they looked similar enough to let Isaac know that it was a camera. Turning his face away from the camera, he walked back over to the bed and sat on it, taking his time to observe his surroundings.
In the corner near his bed there were two white sheets connected to a metal exoskeleton, making it look as if it were a shower curtain. When he went to look behind it, though, he noticed only an extra pair of underpants, realizing that it was just a privacy curtain. A few feet right of that was a toilet, and a box on the wall for paper. Then there was a sink, and paper towels and a soap dispenser. There was a trash can and a sleek, plastic looking chair in the corner. On the other side of the room was another stand, this one looking more like a small table than anything. On it's surface sat a pad of paper and some markers, which Isaac eyed curiously before turning to look at the rest of the room. There was a white couch that was as shiny looking as the chair in the corner, seeming as if had been lined with a laminating substance as if to keep it from being dirtied. Above the couch, in the dead center of the backrest, a painting hung, the only color in the room besides Isaac's already pale skin. It was easily recognizable as the work of a famous painter from before the nuclear apocalypse, Vincent Van Gogh. There were all sorts of blues and yellows and greens and dark tints. Isaac had to admit that it was truly a work of beauty, but unfortunately, art was the last thing on his mind.
The room looked secure and Isaac sighed, beginning to pace in result of his nerves. He wondered what the rest of the 100 were doing right now. Were they even safe, or alive? The grounders could have attacked since he was taken. They might have found Clarke and Finn and Miles, or maybe they hadn't. Had they noticed that he and Monty were missing and, if they had, were they looking for them, or had they decided that they were a lost cause already, and that there were more important things to be worrying about? Isaac didn't want to think about any of those possibilities, but the room was uncomfortably silent and the only thing he could hear were his thoughts, which sounded far too loud in his head. Worry crossed his features as he imagined his friends being attacked. By grounders, from behind, or maybe by something else, head on. If there was anything else out there. He wasn't sure.
He wondered that, if the grounders didn't attack the 100, then maybe the Mountain Men would. It made sense to him, even though he couldn't fathom what they could want with a bunch of delinquents such as themselves. If they'd taken Monty and Isaac, then surely they couldn't be the only ones. The Mountain Men should have some other goal, an ulterior motive that they needed the 100 for. They could be out there right now, picking off the rest of their friends and bringing them to their facility right now, while Isaac was stuck in this stupid white room, feeling as helpless as ever.
Isaac ran his hand through his hair again and walked past his door; only this time, when he glanced through the glass, he noticed something moving through the doorway of the other room. Rushing to the glass, he pounded on the window with wide eyes. "MONTY!" he shouted, coughing as he realized how dry his throat was, his voice coming out weak and scratchy. He slammed his palm against the glass, and somehow the frantic movement must have managed to catch the shorter boy's attention, because soon enough Monty was standing in front of the window at his door, eyes wide as he stared at Isaac.
Isaac, he called, but Isaac couldn't hear him through the doors.
"Monty!" Isaac called back, and the look on his friend's face made it clear that he couldn't hear him either. "Are you okay?" he asked, exaggerating his movements.
Monty seemed to understand, and nodded, although he did it reluctantly while hesitantly glancing around his own room. Are you?
Isaac bit his lip, nodding as he glanced to both side of him, and then turning around nervously, as if he were expecting something to pop out behind him. As he did this, the markers and paper that were on the table caught his eye and he turned back to Monty, holding up a finger to tell him to wait. He quickly ducked away from the door and grabbed the paper and marker, uncapping the marker with his teeth and spitting that cap onto the ground carelessly, kicking it away with his toes. It skidded across the floor before it hit the back wall and Isaac approached the door again, glancing at Monty through the window before he looked down, writing something on the pad with the marker. Monty frowned at him, seemingly confused until Isaac held up the pad, the writing facing his friend. He had written, We're in Mount Weather on the pad. He held it up to the window for a few seconds longer before taking it away, only to see that Monty disappeared.
He returned a moment later and held up his own pad to the window. Isaac squinted and leaned against the glass of his door, reading, seriously? how do you know?
there is a sign, Isaac wrote back, pointing to just a bit left of Monty's door. Monty nodded, before he stared back at his writing pad.
where are the others? he wrote, and Isaac bit his lip anxiously, shrugging at the boy in response. So neither of them knew where their friends were. This made Isaac even more nervous about their current situation. He looked to the ground, wishing that he had pockets so he could tuck his hands away, something he tended to do in nerve-racking situations. But he felt more exposed than ever now- he was wearing clothes that weren't his, in an unfamiliar room, kidnapped by people he didn't know if he could trust or not, not to mention there was a camera just above his head, letting him know that his every move was being monitored.
what's going on, do you know? Isaac tried asking. He knew that it was almost pointless to try asking, seeing as Monty was just about in the same situation as him. But Monty's face was stonier than he had ever seen it as he held up his pad again, the three words written on the paper sending chills down Isaac's spine.
We aren't safe.
A/N: so a quick little chapter for you guys!! I had this completed on Friday but I'm at a camp all this week without a computer and I hate writing on my phone so I just did this ahead of time so that you wouldn't go a week without some new stuff. wow i sound so professional and prepared for life the total opposite of what I actually am ahaha. But yeah technically I'm updating this from my phone but I wrote it earlier this week on my computer so yeet. also I hope you liked the chapter, there's really only one chapter left before the end! AHHH! also if you have any suggestions for what I should name the sequel then let me know bc i have no ideas so far???
i also deleted a bunch of books recently because i've decided i'm only publishing books that i know i'll pay a lot of attention to, so the updates will be more frequent and i'll actually be excited about writing instead of forcing myself to pull my way through chapter after chapter. so that's the story behind that. so updates should be decently quick for this story, and any other i might have up at the moment. sorry for the long authors note, but i'm done now lol.
goodbye my smol children!!