The sound of someone coughing uncontrollably nearby to me startles me awake, my eyelids dropping heavily straight after they open.
"Hey jackass," I call out, my voice raspy as my throat burns, "you mind dying quietly?"
The coughing stops and Murphy tries to catch his breath, panting heavily. "I see you haven't lost your charm," he calls back to me.
I look over at him in his hammock, expecting to see a smug look on his face but instead he seems...weak. The only other time I've seen John Murphy look weak, was when he was being hanged by his fellow delinquents for a murder he didn't commit.
I keep my mouth clamped shut as the memories of that day come flooding back.
Someone else starts coughing uncontrollably, sounding as if they're choking. I lift my head up, looking over as Clarke rushes over to the girl and trying to get her to breathe.
I scramble to my knees and crawl over as the girl falls out of her hammock, crouching next to her as her body writhes on the floor, but it's too late. Blood spurts out of the girls mouth, dripping down her chin as her body stills.
"Clarke?" I look up at the blonde girl as she presses two fingers to the younger girl's neck, feeling for a pulse.
After a couple of seconds Clarke looks up at me and shakes her head, causing me to fall back onto the floor. Clarke recruits two guys quarantined from upstairs to carry the girl's body outside.
I don't even know her name.
I sit back against the wall again and watch as her lifeless body is carried outside, Clarke following after them.
I release a breathe and climb up into her vacant hammock. As sick as it may be, I'm not spending any more time on the goddamn floor. The moving fabric causes me to be slightly nauseous, but as I rest my head on the pillow it eases off.
"Octavia, you okay?"
My heart skips a beat at the sound of Bellamy calling out for his sister. When he finds out she's not here he's going to try and go after her.
I try to get up again, but my body feels too heavy and slow.
"You should stop moving." I look up from my hammock, over at Murphy who watches me intently. "You're not gonna get better if you keep moving around."
"I'm not gonna get better," I say, giving up with a sigh and letting my head rest against the pillow once more.
A commotion from outside rings in my ears, everyone shouting and screaming.
"Clarke?" My voice doesn't reach her as I watch the determined blonde come back into the drop ship and grab a gun, leaving again and firing three shots.
Multiple scenarios of the situation in camp run through my mind as I lay on the hammock, my eyelids feeling heavy again as I try to keep them open.
Octavia's voice is carried in from outside, but I can't make sense of her words.
At least if she's back, Bellamy didn't leave, that means he's safe. He'll be pissed at her, but he's safe.
Three figures—one being carried by another—walking into the drop ship sparks something within me to get up. I lift my head, seeing Finn carrying Clarke with Octavia following behind.
"Finn..."
"If he's not sick by now then he's probably immune, like me," Octavia says to Clarke as Murphy gets to his feet.
"Here." He draws the trio's attention, "come on, she can take mine."
Finn doesn't hesitate to carry Clarke over to the hammock, glancing over at me once she's settled in.
"Hey," he ducks underneath Clarke and squeezes my hand, "you okay?"
"Oh...so now you're worried about me?" I tell him, my voice quiet and raspy as my eyes drift close again.
Hurt flashes in his eyes at my words, and he moves some stray hair out of my sweaty face. "I'm always worried about you, Chris," he whispers.
My breathing becomes slightly more even as I start to drift off to sleep, not taking notice when Finn's hand leaves mine.