[ 2.22. THE END ]
this is it. the last chapter of dubiety, almost 12 hours of me crying throughout writing it, before the epilogue. do you have any predictions?
___
"YOU STILL CRYING?" Aiden turns his head to the side from his position in front of me, appearing humored yet still speaking with a certain amount of hesitancy. His words cause the rest of the group to twist their heads towards me, except Maya, who stays with her shoulder flush against my side and fingers woven through mine, even through the hazmat suit. It is somewhat uncomfortable, but all that matters is that Maya is safe. She needs the support, anyway, now that Vincent is gone.
"No," I clear my throat in response, sniffing dryly and dragging a hand across my cheek. Jasper and Monty share silent glances with an interjection of Aiden's own gaze, and Bellamy stops in the middle of the hallway, bringing us all with him.
He tilts his head momentarily, pausing for a second before he approaches me with two small steps and brushes a strand of my hair behind my ear. My head instinctively leans into his hold and my eyes set onto nothing in particular in the distance as he brushes his thumb against the skin just below my eye, "Hey, look at me. It's not your fault. You couldn't have known."
"Could I?" I challenge quietly, just barely allowing my eyes to flicker up to his. They ache stubbornly, void of any moisture after the time I spent crying in the holds of my friends after they had found me in the harvest chamber. It was a long shot of reunions and consoling Maya, so it's no wonder that everybody seems to be drained of any energy. The Vie girl next to me barely has the power to let go of my hand, but her touch becomes a phantom of its memory in a matter of seconds as Jasper reaches her side and decides to linger by it.
Bellamy shakes his head, silent, and situates himself beside me, firmly grasping my hand. My lip quivers, but I suck in a breath of air and swallow the urge to cry again. The man begins walking once again, so the rest of our team stays behind us this time, only the shuffling of feet informing us of their presence. It's only a few steps until we reach the door that will grant us entry into the caves, where the grounder army should be. At this point, the curse of a bloodbath is inevitable, but a part of me deep down just can't wait until this nightmare is over, no matter what cost.
Absentmindedly, I hear the sharp click of a gun cocking, so I sigh myself out of my dazed mindfulness and shortly look up at Bellamy, who holds a gun in his free hand and jerks his chin out towards the metal door, a wordless gesture to have me open it. I fumble to wrap my hand around the handle, seeing how Monty shortly fumbles with the keyreader, and move it down. It bleeps melodically and I can push open the slate of metal, hastily positioning myself behind Bellamy's frame. And the door is ajar.
First thing I notice is a person, hair of woven precision and the appropriate attire of a grounder warrior. It's Octavia, her arm halfway across her shoulder and threatening to reach the end of the sword that pokes out behind her shoulder. She stills in place, dropping her hand while her eyes of soft ice dance between Bellamy and I, wrapped in each other's hold, even through the swallowing darkness of the cave, finally freezing onto her brother, "Oh, Bellamy!"
I let go of his hand so he can catch Octavia as she leaps into his arms with a deep sigh of relief and once again, I catch myself wanting to burst into tears. It's been weeks since they've seen each other.
And then I notice Clarke. The head of blonde waves lowers almost bashfully, but her gaze still travels up to Bellamy, and then me. My lips are pursed as I offer a challenging stare in return, but hers almost twitch up in an absentminded smile. Still, it is clear she knows her faults as her feet shuffle uncomfortably and I decide to approach her just slightly, a single question burning on the tip of my tongue.
Clarke swallows, while I pass by the Blake's and end up mere feet in front of the girl, "My dad. Did he make it out?"
I quickly decide that I absolutely loathe her silence, because she fights for words a moment too long. Her lips part with shaky finality, and her head lands in a curt nod, "There were many survivors." So she doesn't know.
"Okay," I bite down onto my lip, slowly nodding in silent reassurance of myself; many survivors means that there is a large possibility of him being just fine, but my chest still stings under the sharp stab of worry, so I look back up, locking our eyes, "At least you're here."
Clarke's light eyes storm with clouds of puzzlement, and I find a certain amount of triumph in the way her own thoughts thunderously clash behind her irises. She doesn't know what to think and frankly, neither do I, because in the past few weeks she's done nothing but betray my trust for her, yet she is still my friend. I think she realizes exactly what I'm thinking, so she manages an apologetic roll of her lips and says, "I'm glad you're okay, Emily."
"Thanks. You, too," I resist the urge to carelessly shrug, as that would come off entirely too hostile, but I know the lack of emotion behind my words sets off a sting on their own. For a moment, I feel bad that I might be projecting the negativity of the past day solely onto her, but I count on Clarke to figure it out herself and realize that it's not just her presence setting me off.
When I spin around on my heels, my eyes instantly meet Bellamy's, who looks just slightly scandalized (he must have been watching our reunion) as he releases Octavia from his embrace. The youngest Blake finally turns to face me as I already move closer towards her, a small smirk reaching across her lips, "Hey, Superwoman, long time no see."
I barely manage a soft laugh, reaching my arms over her shoulders as Bellamy stands beside us, intently watching us greet each other with a tight hug, "You look sexy as hell, O."
"Don't let my brother hear you," the younger girl rumbles a chuckle into my shoulder and I strain to move my eyes to the man in question. He stands motionless, but the mindless grin on his face deceives his façade; he already heard me. Octavia carefully pulls away and we exchange one last smile, before she hears Monty, Aiden and Jasper enter the cave and moves to greet them, as well, remarking about their collective amount of scrawny shared between them. Slowly, Maya also joins the group and the boys have to inform Octavia that she is with us.
By then, Bellamy and I have ended up in front of Clarke, expectant of important information -- the former out of the two of us wonders, "Where's your army?"
"Gone. Just like yours," Clarke wastes no time in responding, eyes coated with a helpless sheen of unshed tears. Her words instantly take me back to the harvest chamber where the grounders had been gathered up by the Mountain Men and lead away. My shoulder bumps against Bellamy's arm as I feel the sudden sensation of losing my footing, but it's all in my head. "Say you have a plan."
The desperation in her words somehow agitates me into thinking that just her words manage to worsen the alarming situation at hand. Under the push of terror, all that's left of my hope tumbles down to the pit of my stomach where bile threatens to choke me into being unable to breathe, forcing me to retort with strained growls, "Why don't you?"
"Not really," pointedly corrects Bellamy, diverting Clarke's attention from my jab and wrapping his hand around my wrist, "We need to talk to Dante. Maya says he's in quarantine."
It feels foreign, once again being back into the usual position sandwhiched between both Bellamy and Clarke like it once used to be, but the three of us end up walking towards the door into Mount Weather shoulder to shoulder, only this time, there is a major difference in both of my dynamics with the leaders of delinquents. It almost makes my skin crawl with uncomfortable shivers.
The moment of deja-vu doesn't last too long, though, as Jasper, Monty and Aiden rush towards Clarke, in the blink of an eye enveloping her into a group hug and my heart almost lurches when the girl's face twists in relief so intense it must hurt, and she looks genuinely on the verge of breaking when she mouths a thank you to Maya. I stubbornly dig the toes of my shoe into the dirt below me.
A shrill beeping sound attracts our attention and all of us begin staring at Maya, whose suit informs us of the inevitable; her oxygen is on the brink of running out. Jasper rushes up to her, while Bellamy's fingers move down my hand, and whispers in horrified defeat, "30 minutes. And we just changed it, that can't be right." He moves around her, hands weakly grasping onto her arms almost as if she'd perish if he let go, and breathes shakily, "Uh, sh-- It's her last tank!"
Clarke springs into action, immediately approaching a distraught Maya and nodding in a hesitant promise, "Hey, uh, we'll find you another tank."
"All of the supplemental oxygen is on level 5," the girl argues, the threat of tears slowly drowning her words.
"Then we'll get you to level 5," Jasper announces stubbornly.
Maya directs a strict glare towards him, the plastic encasing her face fogging beneath the force of her aggravated huff, "5 isn't safe for any of us!"
I attach my free hand to the left side of my face, a heavy sigh tumbling past my lips as I harshly rub the skin of my temple; we should have come up with a long term solution for Maya in the very beginning, but now we have to run around like headless chickens, which endangers all of us.
"What about the trash chute again?" Aiden perks up with a suggestion, eyebrows pulled in a tight frown.
Jasper's head snaps towards him as if my brother has cracked the case, "That will work!"
"To get in, maybe," cuts in Bellamy sharply, his head moving into a feverish shake, "Maya's right, every soldier in this mountain is there."
I continue in an attmept to dismiss the boys' plan of action, "We will never make it out of there, they won't hesitate to blow our brains out." That they are good at, unfortunately, and I'd like to keep my friends out of their wrath.
"We can do this," Jasper insists in a whisper and Bellamy tilts his head in immediate disapproval, "We'll split up."
"Okay," interjects Octavia, seemingly realizing the importance of Maya's wellbeing to us all, determination evident in her tone when she offers Bellamy, Clarke and I a narrow glance, "You guys go for Dante." She then directs her eyes towards Jasper, tone softening. "We'll help Maya."
Next, an unspoken agreement settles over our silence and we begin moving in formation, Bellamy and I staying behind to direct everybody out of the cave and into the walls of Mount Weather. I hope it's the last time I enter it.
Aiden is the last one in line, pursing his lips and beginning to walk past us, until he makes an unexpected stop and stands in front of us. I quirk a confused eyebrow, refraining from releasing a petty insult -- after all, we discovered our family ties pretty recently, so I stay silent. Finally, my brother shuffles to extend his hand out for Bellamy, mumbling, "Thank you."
"For what?" Bellamy inquires, uncertainty evident in his tone.
Aiden pauses. His dark eyes flicker to me, a wordless motion of explanation, still under by Bellamy's grip, and then back towards him, until they exchange a silent promise within each other, and Bellamy nods in understanding. He grips Aiden's hand in a firm handshake, dismissing, "Thank me when we're out."
A smile threatens to crack the solemn exterior of Aiden's expression, "Already did, but okay, I will."
I offer a tired smile, unable to keep it away due to a part of me putting the pieces together. Aiden must have finally realized that Bellamy and I have come to term with our emotions, and he must be thanking him for looking out for me. Come to think of it, it's been that way for a very long time, since the delinquent camp reign, only back then I had no clue to what end our friendship would bring us after everything we've been through together, side by side. Back then, I was oblivious to what extent of problems we'd end up facing and how far in hell we'd go to together that would bring us so close, I was scared of his attention and dismissive of the obvious. Only now, as he grips my hand in a silent promise of always being a shoulder to fall against, I truly realize that there is no trace of dubiety anymore. I know what he feels, and I know what I feel. I just hope it's enough to get us both out of this war.
His weight and support is what I rely on as we walk through the doorway once again, shutting the outside world out with a mere click of the door as it fixates into its own position.
___
On the way over to the quarantine zone of the mountain, I realize I've never seen Dante Wallace in person, only Bellamy and Clarke have. The latter of the two also seems to navigate her way around the Mountain freely; I tend to forget she was once also kept here before her escape with Anya, so she must still remember how to find the place we're looking for, hence why we arrive at Dante's temporary quarters pretty easily. The quarantine zone is bindingly light, a stark contrast to the power-abandoned hallways nobody bothered to illuminate after repairing the turbines, and we are enveloped in hues of white and disenfectant blue. Now that my eyes have been blinking into receiving some moisture, they continue aching from the harsh lighting.
Bellamy pushes open the perfectly polished door, striding in first, Monty, me and Clarke following in tow, as Aiden went with Jasper, O and Maya. Dante Wallace is an age-gnawed man, with hair of thin snow and permanent wrinkles around his exhausted, ghostly eyes and across his surprise-creased forehead, and he acquires a defensive stance upon recognizing three of our faces, minus mine. I believe he is wise enough to figure my involvement out by himself, as I'm sure he knows that Bellamy has had a helpful hand since the very beginning. Dante narrows his eyes at us, but the blonde of our group seems to pique his interest the most, "Hello, Clarke."
"Sir, we need your help again," Bellamy states matter-of-factly and without unnecessary hesitation, seeing how Clarke doesn't look too ecstatic to return the pleasantries of the former president.
"It's okay," Monty assures, shooting a quick glance back towards the door that was left ajar, "I took out the camera from the junction box in the hall. We can talk freely."
"No one's watching, anyway. Thanks to you, they're all on level 5," Wallace drawls with a slight edge of accusation and his line of sight slips over the four of us pointedly.
I tilt my head, but Clarke beats me to voicing her obvious notice, "You're not."
"No, I'm not," the older man retorts lowly, intently staring her down to the point where he looks like a wild animal, ready to pounce, but restricted by itself. His papery eyes are void of any spark, but still project a considerable amount of menace, of hatred.
Bellamy quirps, "Please, we don't have much time. We need a way to get our people out of this mountain without killing everyone!"
Dante Wallace stays silent and appears almost careless -- he doesn't seem like the helpful man he theoretically was just days ago.
"You're not gonna help, are you?" I then offer, gingerly nodding to myself. He shifts his head to the side, as if I have exclaimed something of sheer ridicule.
"You cut the power, risking the lives of everyone in this mountain -- my people, even the ones who helped you," he allows poison to drip from his tongue now, a sharp sting of his incredulous anger jabbing accusations towards me and my friends.
"We knew they'd be safe on level 5," Clarke argues heatedly, approaching him with determined strides, "We made sure not to destroy the turbines so you could repair them. We're to good guys here, not you!"
Wallace looks unfazed by Clarke's sudden outburst of yells, and his fairly calm exterior is unsettling to me and I tighten my arms around my frame, eyebrows cinching into a frown when he challenges Clarke, "Tell me, if we released your people, and theirs, what would've happened to mine?"
The blonde is stunned into silence in front of the former president, weakly shuffling on the balance of her feet and sharply twisting around to face Monty, "Can you get us into the command center? We need to see what's happening on level 5."
"No problem," Monty affirms hastily.
"Let's move, then," I chirp, releasing my arms from their hold and taking large strides towards Dante, before I can grasp his upper arm in my grip and attach the other hand to his back.
Bellamy situates himself by Dante's other side, wrapping his hand around his arm, as well, "You're gonna help us, whether you like it or not."
The way over to the command center is shorter than the trek from the caves to the quarantine zone, as we only have to move up a flight of stairs and make our way through a few corridors; the levels are void of any soul, but Clarke still takes the lead with a gun and we walk slow enough to not make any noise. Only Dante moves as one normally would, completely unbothered and not frightened when making a sound.
Sometime during the way over, Bellamy and I had to let go of a grumbling Wallace upon him insisting that he can walk up the narrow stairwell by himself, so he keeps his distance from the rest of us and stays firmly behind Clarke, who rounds the corner with a hasty turn, pistol gripped in both hands and heralding warning to potential threat.
"I told you," Dante says, "There's no one here."
"Sorry if we don't take your word for it," retorts Bellamy, beginning to move faster as Monty takes off into a run towards our destination and causing the rest of us to speed up, while the youngest member of our little team works on opening the door.
"Does that hurt your feelings, President Wallace?" I wonder aloud, jutting my bottom lip out in distaste, yet keeping my tone as blank and dry as possible. He ignores it.
"Why aren't you with your people on level 5?" Clarke cuts in.
"After what I've done, they can be free. I can't," the older man responds. I release a snort, having been caught by surprise by his answer; as far as I know, he didn't participate in the bone marrow extraction, but, then again, I don't think I will ever understand the morals of Mountain Men. "Deliverance comes at a cost. I bear it so they don't have to."
The hallway settles into a heavy silence as we all wait while Monty works his magic with the card reader. It's an eerie sensation, really, to be standing in a ghoulish, twilight hallway with the heaviness of our minds weighing down onto both sides of this war, seeing the fresh battle scars into the eyes of Clarke, Bellamy and even Dante, himself.
"It wasn't Cage," Bellamy suddenly reveals, staring off into the distance, and the two men tilt their heads up to lock their calculating gazes onto one another, "It was your idea to make the deal with the grounders."
I want to ask how Bellamy figured it out, because Dante just calmly nods beneath the fire of the former's accusatory glare, but I stop myself from doing so when the lock of the door chirps robotically and Monty calls, "We're in. Got it."
Bellamy pulls his own gun out of its holster and lifts it up towards the door, which Monty lightly pushes open and steps back, grantic Bellamy access. He enters first, gun prepared, yet nobody is awaiting us in the dusty room and he deems it safe with the lowering of his weapon, "It's clear. He's telling the truth."
My hand lands onto Dante's back once again and I give a barely harsh push so he finally moves to walk in, being greeted by Bellamy's grip upon stepping in. Clarke urges Monty to follow, lifting her hand in a wave so he approaches the control panel, shutting the door behind him, "Let's get the monitors up."
The room is dusty, like it hasn't been used in ages, but it's only been a few days. My legs threaten to buckle as soon as I see a row of spinning chairs situates in front of the plethora of keyboards and computers with one too many screens, but I know that now is not the time. Even Monty doesn't sit down as he turns on the devices with several taps across the keyboards and the screens chirp and squeal to life, illuminating the room with weak blue light, "I think command center is live."
My lips part when grainy images of the Mountain encase us in colorless projection of ongoing activity, but my stomach lurches unpleasantly as soon as my eyes land onto one of the screens that shows the dormitories, now turned into a makeshift extraction chamber; several doctors are enveloping a shadowy body, hovering above it with horror inflicting tools of medical use, one of them being a drill, that I'm certain of.
And then, my heart painfully constricts in my chest when a light shines across the victim's head, and even through the blood and grime caked across her motionless face, I recognize the sharp features of my best friend, Raven.
"Is that Raven?" Bellamy asks from beside me, but I barely register it, as the camera angle shows a line of the delinquents and more or our people chained to the walls. Abby, Miller, Monroe and...
"Dad?" I choke on a ragged gasp. In that moment, Clarke also notices her mother, but my gaze is set firmly onto my dad, who is just barely keeping himself upright, and I struggle to comprehend as to how he ended up here, in this mountain. My eyes burn with the force of fresh tears and throat tightens beneath the chokehold of my emotions and the terror that is shown across from me, baring its razor-sharp teeth of violent terror in promise of ripping, slashing, destroying what is left of my strength and I can already feel it draining as if it's not Raven laying on that cot, a drilled hole somewhere in her body, but it's me, I'm the one being tortured, my bones are rattling with the quake of fear. I feel like I am about to throw up, or cry, or suffocate, whichever inflicts the most agony because this is the nature of Mount Weather, they hurt you, they hurt your friends and they kill them, kill them so viciously that they bleed out the entire volume of their body's blood, make them scream until their vocal chords are shredded to nothing and they can only still, frozen, with the ghost of their inexplicable agony etched across their face.
Suddenly, I swallow these emotions, and instead my skin sets ablaze with the flames of rage, igniting a growl into ripping out of the back of my throat and setting my burning gaze onto Wallace, who doesn't show a single drop of remorse in his eyes as he stares, takes in the horror through those computers. Bellamy is pushing a stray radio into his face already, enraged, "Tell them to stop, now!"
"I won't do that," the man hisses, turning his head to the side to bravely look into his eyes.
Ridden by the fueled hatred that violently boils in the depths of my chest, I leap forward and my hand painfully wraps around Bellamy's handgun in a cluster of shaking fingers, ripping it from his hand and wasting no time in attaching it to Dante's forehead as I position myself right in front of him. He is tall, taller than Bellamy, so it's not that easy to reach the middle of his head, but somehow, I am still able to stare at him from below my own arm, "Tell your fucking son to stop!"
Dante doesn't even blink, only moving his eyes up so he can watch the tremble in my hand, forcing me to push the end of the gun further against his skin in warning, but even then, he looks down at me with agitating stillness, "You won't shoot me."
The air is thick with painful silence, and my friends are also burning holes into my back as they struggle to figure out if I really will shoot or not. Bellamy shakes his head from over Dante's shoulder and I just barely take a peek, but it's enough to bring back my common sense, and, with a now rational mind, I drop my arm and return the gun to Bellamy, all the while narrowing my gaze on the former president.
"Emerson," whispers Clarke from behind me, offering me a distraction good enough to turn my back to Wallace and face the younger girl. She sharply spins around on her heels and runs up to Bellamy, taking the radio out of his grip and lifting it up to her face. "Carl Emerson, Mount Weather security detail, come in."
"Who is this?" The voice on the other side of the call replies instantly.
Clarke turns back to the screens, watching the one that shows the Mess Hall, where a man stands in the middle of it, his walkie in front of his lips, "You know who it is. Give the radio to the president."
By now, Monty has sat down on one of the chairs and I make a move to lean against the wall behind me, seeking support before my frame gives out from the lack of energy. Emerson begins moving as well, his miniature figure shuffling across one of the screens and Bellamy calls, "They're moving!"
"Not a problem, I'll bring it on the main monitor," Monty promises, his fingers expertly shuffling across the single keyboard in front of him until the devices around him chirp and the pictures switch around, and we see Cage Wallace enter the hallway of the Mess Hall, standing right in front of the security camera.
"This is president Wallace," he speaks.
Clarke lifts her radio back up to her face, "I have your father."
It's a powerful announcement, one that clearly takes Cage by surprise as his lips part and arm just slightly drops as the blonde continues, "If you don't let my people go, I'll kill him."
The crown of my head lands against the stone wall behind me with a light thud, and I know I had the right idea in mind when I threatened to blow Dante's brains out just moments prior; he could be the key out of this mess if his life is at stake.
On the other side of the large screen, Cage scowls, "How do I know you have him?"
Clarke twists her body to the side in front of me, lifting the radio up towards Dante, who grips it into both of his hands, "Stay the course, Cage!"
Even with my damaged eyesight I can see Cage's eyes widen as clear as day, and I look away when my lips sneer in disgust, "You won't do it."
"You don't know me very well," answers Clarke with malicious finality of her promise. Once again, it is silent, before she turns her back towards us and walks closer towards the computer desks. Bellamy looks to his right, jutting his chin out inti my direction almost unnoticeably, a wordless question, and I shake my head in response as Clarke hisses into the radio, "This ends now. Release my people."
Cage squeezes the walkie-talkie in his hold, merely moving his lips, "I can't do that."
"It would mean the end of our people, Clarke," Dante adds to his son's words, shrugging, which sets off Clarke immediately, her gun clicking beneath her finger when she swirls around, arm extended out towards the man.
Bellamy and I leap away from where we once stood around Cage's father, escaping the possible trajectory, while Monty gets up from his seat. The former of the two of us argues, "Clarke, we need him!"
He hadn't told me the same when I was aiming at Dante, for he knew I wouldn't end up actually killing him. But Clarke? Clarke is unpredictable, she is determined -- she'll do everything if it's in the word of saving her people. So, she informs, weapon ready, "And I need his son to believe me." She presses down onto the button on the side of the radio, addressing Dante's son. "Don't make me do this."
I move my eyes up to the screen across from Clarke, where the current president is shuffling around to look into the Mess Hall, presumably at his own people and Emerson, who guards him from the side, and hesitates to speak when his radio moves closer and then away from his face several times. Then, his eyes lock onto the camera in his hallway and he whispers, voice cracking, "Dad... I'll take care of our people."
Dante's jaw goes slack but he contains his surprise successfully when he has to look back at the girl who is aiming her gun at him, "None of us have a choice here, Clarke."
"I didn't want this," the girl shakes her head and from the side, I notice her eyes glistening with a coat of freshly gathered tears. She's made up her mind.
Dante still has the time to reply, "Neither did I."
Clarke pulls the trigger. From across me, Monty recoils and squeezes his eyes shut, but that's all I notice before I lower my gaze towards the ground, having not even moved an inch upon the gunshot ringing throughout the room. I hear Dante, whose breath comes out in sharp chokes, wheezing and fighting for one last gasp of oxygen, before a dull thunk overpowers his struggle and he collapses to the floor. I lift my eyes, lips pursed tightly in an attempt to block my own emotion. She did what she had to do. We all do what we have to do.
Cage doesn't look into the security camera anymore. He keeps his eyes trained onto the floor, or the wall, anything as long as it's not the lens he used to communicate with his father through moments prior to his death. His arm falls along with his radio and I look away, towards Clarke as she moves past a frozen Monty and faces the screen, "Listen to me very carefully. I will not stop until my people are free. If you don't let them go... I will irradiate level 5."
My blood runs cold, right as Cage collapses against the wall, holding himself up with one arm. Come on, I silently urge him on, come on, admit your loss, give up for once. He knows this is a war he'll lose, Clarke is currently in control; he is bound to break, he can't just allow her to massacre them all.
Finally, my own eyes fill to the brim with tears once again and I instinctively search for Bellamy throughout their thick blur; he's seen the amount of good people in this mountain, he's seen the children, we once broke through prescool, for fuck's sake, we can't kill them all!
Bellamy's head moves until we're face to face, that much I can see over my extensive blinking in an attempt to rid my sight of the slowly cracking dam. I don't need to form it into words, because he is already moving towards me, stepping around desks and Dante's lifeless body until he's reached my side and I crumble against his side behind Clarke's back.
"There are children, Bell, children," I whisper into his shoulder, a stray tear falling across the skin of my cheek. His arm snakes around my shoulders, shielding me from Monty's own horrified gaze.
He pulls me into him, his hand traveling to the back of my head while his mouth presses to the top of it, "I know, Em. I know."
"Cage, listen to me," Clarke speaks again, causing me to move my head out of the fabric of Bellamy's button-up in curiosity, "I don't want anyone else to die. Stop the drilling and we can talk. There must be a way to get us all out of this."
On the large screen across one of the walls of the command center, Cage can be seen talking, but we don't hear it -- he's not using the radio. From the other side of the hallway he's standing in, Emerson perks up; it must mean Cage is speaking to him. The guard then approaches the president, confirming my suspicions. Cage pushes the walkie into his hands.
"Guys!" I call out in a cracking syllable, watching as Emerson begins moving away from the Mess Hall, "He's coming for us!"
Bellamy momentarily looks over to the screen, before telling Monty, "They deactivated my keycard. Can you do that to his?"
"That one's easy!" Monty replies much to our relief, sitting down in front of the computer right away. The rest of us search for Emerson's progress over the many monitors that stretch across the wall in front of us, also noting Cage's whereabouts.
"Where's he going?" Asks Bellamy, seeing how the man in question retreats into the Mess Hall, but doesn't stop there. His hand falls slack behind my head, but still stays on me as it falls across my shoulders so I can watch without restriction, too.
The president makes his way through the resident-filled area, escaping through the other exit and walking into corridor 5b, when Clarke makes a sickening revalation, "The dorm..."
Our eyes collectively switch the monitor that shows the dorm, our parents and friends still held hostage against the walls, and Raven still laying on the cot, as Cage enters through the door and shuts it after himself. My eyes land onto my father, who stands the closest to Cage, who faces his direction, but it's not hard to figure his next move out; he wants to make the ultimate revenge move. He'll chose another victim to the drilling, won't he?
His hand moves out to the side and he gives a soundless gesture for the doctors to remove Raven from the table. Clarke jumps to call up Monty, "Monty, can you do it? Can you irradiate the level?"
"I can do it," he confirms shortly, through a heavy exhale.
"Wait a second, Clarke, we need to think about this!" Bellamy interjects as I release myself from his hold, sniffing and directing a sharp look towards the girl.
I shake my head feverishly, until my hair whips in front of my face, "There are children here, Clarke..."
"I know!"
"...people who helped us. We can't murder them all!"
"Then, please, give me a better idea!" Clarke pleads, visibly desperate. It's not an easy decision, but she's making it without enough hesitancy. Still, Bellamy and I go speechless, and I look away through tearful breaths to calm myself.
The camera in the dorm shows Cage point at Clarke's mom, and the soldiers present free her of the restraints and carry her struggling frame towards the now vacant cot. We are only capable of blankly staring at the screen, and I swiftly grow to hate the feeling of pure helplessness. Clarke's voice comes out barely above a weak whisper, "What have I done?"
The doctor attaches the drill to Abby's hipbone instantaneously, beginning the procedure while my dad yells in protest from behind them. Abby's mouth opens in silent screams and her body begins resisting, back arching in spasms of agony; I have to look away.
"Clarke, if we do this, there is no going back!" Bellamy shouts heatedly. My eyes are set onto Monty; regret is already pooling into his eyes, but he appears conflicted as he watches the projection of the real time horrors happening somewhere in this facility. What if this is the only way?
Clarke seems to have made her mind for the second time in the past few minutes -- her head sets into a curt nod towards Monty, "Figure it out."
And he begins typing. It's the only noise in the otherwise silent room as I place both of my hands over my face and press them against my skin until it gets hard to breathe. If we do this, how does it make us better than Dante, or Cage, or Emerson? How do we move on? Do we even deserve to live after this?
I don't want to do this. It will kill hundreds of people, innocent or not. Those are the lives of one entire population group on Earth, a large portion of the survivors. Women, children.
But my family are also survivors. Now it's a game -- who deserves to live more? I've looked death in the eye many times now, earlier today quite literally, so what's the chance of me making it out of this war as well?
My hands drop and I take in a swift gulp of air, allowing it to hitch in the back of my throat until it soothes my burning lungs. My eyes narrow at unexpected movement on one of the screens as soon as my eyes adjust to the light, "Is that Maya? With Octavia?"
Bellamy follows my line of sight quickly, proving my suggestion right as he urges, "They gotta get out of there!"
Monty halts his typing with one more forceful tap against a stray button, but before he can follow up with more actions, somebody slams against the metal door. Emerson.
"He's here," breathes Clarke. The camera in the hallway through this door shows him using his foot to kick the door down.
"Jasper," mumbles Monty suddenly, "And Aiden. They caught them."
My gaze snaps towards the screen that shows the dorm; a guard leads in my best friend and brother, both handcuffed. I leap towards the monitors, hands landing down onto the edge of a desk with heavy slams, "Fuck!"
And then the Mess Hall reveals both Maya and Octavia, trapped between aimed weapons of the guards and it is too much. Beyond end of the war level; I don't think we are the winning side anymore, unless...
Monty's computer chimes, obliviously cheerful, and he halts his endless typing, gazing up at Clarke. While I lean against the desk, struggling to catch my breath, she shouts, "Why are you stopping?!"
"Because I did it," Monty responds, looking away from the girl and towards the control panel, where a large lever sits, "All we have to do is... pull this. Hatches and vents will open and the scrubbers reverse, pulling in outside air."
It's an eerie moment -- horrifying, even, because this is our only chance to save our friends, and the deadly weapon is into the unappealing form of a lever. You just pull it and it kills everyb--
"He's gonna blow the door!" Bellamy exclaims, raising his gun and forcing the rest of us to either stare at the camera footage or at the door, expectant of the explosion.
"Clarke!" Monty jumps up from the office chair, "We're out of time!"
And she places her hand onto the lever. No hesitation, no words, she just... does it. Her eyes shine with tears, and mine do, too, and my heart rattles my chest until every fast beat of it hurts and I hold my breath deep within my body. Octavia and Maya are held at gunpoint in the Mess Hall, that's what one of the monitors says as I look up.
"My sister, my responsibility," Bellamy produces a broken whisper.
In the dormitory, where Jasper is being chained to the wall next to his close friend, Andrea Cavanaugh, a young child, lifts her small legs even though she's chained to the wall, and kicks the guard in his stomach in an attmept to fight back. Somehow, her small wrists have escaped their restraints and the man shoots her in the abdomen to stop her.
"Andrea!" I cry out, my stomach slamming into the edge of the table as I fight to get closer towards the monitor, as if that will bring me to her, as if that will help me help her as Jasper thrashes around beside her, and Aiden screams at the monster that hurt her. And Abby is still laying onto the cot, unmoving, yet her eyes still flickering.
"I have to save them," fights Clarke through her own dam of tears. Bellamy sets his hand over hers.
"Together," he whispers when she looks up at him, shellshocked.
I straighten up with a determined inhale, not even fighting my tears anymore. This is the end.
Blindly, I grab Clarke's free hand, and she looks at me, really looks, and squeezes my hand with twice as much ferocity upon her realization. Then, I also grasp Bellamy's vacant hand, holding onto it the hardest I ever have, "Together."
I release Clarke's fingers and lift my arm, until my palm lightly settles over Bellamy's skin. My eyes slam shut. I contemplate backing out.
But I don't abandon my family. And the lever is already moving. It clicks and it clicks, and it clicks, until it reaches the bottom of the trail and stops. A red light begins flashing by the door, accompanied by an alarm that shrilly screams throughout the facility. Level 5 is now irradiated. People are collapsing to the floor one by one, vomiting blood and choking, twisting uncomfortably from the sensation of their bones mimicking breaking. They're dying, in the dorm, in the hallway, in the Mess Hall. And amongst the dying is Maya.
I look down, retracting my hand from Bellamy's as if he's caught fire, or me, I don't know. It's just suffocating and sickening, and absolutely horrifying, and we have to live with this for the rest of our lives. There is no going back; we wiped them out.
I begin trembling. Uncontrollable quivering overtakes my body, like I am the one succumbing to the radiation instead of them, and my breath comes out in short, quick sobs as my hands freeze in front of me and I am unable to tear my gaze away from them.
"Emily," Bellamy takes immediate hold of my elbows, pulling me towards him and trying to calm me down with shushing, all the while holding an alarmingly calm exterior up for himself, "Emily, hey, breathe for me. Sh, sh, come on."
It takes me a few seconds longer to cease my erratic breathing and last couple of times sucking in oxygen until I can calm down; neither Bellamy, Monty nor Clarke are freaking out. I can't as well, I have no right.
Clarke shuffles her weight from one foot to another, turning to face us as I tip my head back, not yet straightening up, and glance up at her with a tear-stained face. She steps towards me, "Let's go get our people."
With that, she moves past Bellamy and I, so my boyfriend gathers my fingers between his and begins following Clarke. From the other side, Monty maneuvers around the chair and reaches for my other hand. I grip it wordlessly, only releasing a shaky exhale I can't control until it dissipates on its own accord, and we make our way out of the command center, hand in hand as Clarke leads us away.
The way over to the Mess Hall evaporates into a sheer memory of corridors void of life and the continuous blaring of the alarm. It screams and it shouts, and it yells, but nobody deserving to hear its warning is around to listen anymore. Mount Weather is no longer the home of survivors; it is merely a place where a massacre has taken place.
The Mess Hall is filled with the deceased. Families are still in their chairs by the dining table, heads either lolling to the side of in their own plates. The floor is also covered in bodies, and so is the seat by the piano and the lounging area. Everyone is dead, covered in boils and blood. Everyone but the Arkers.
Clarke leads us through the Hall, dodging the corpses of Mount Weather residents as she makes her her way through some columns that separate the areas. There, we see Jasper, cradling Maya's still body on the ground, and Aiden, barely keeping Andrea Cavanaugh upright. They had to have escaped the dorm together, but I can't bring myself to speculate exactly how.
"What did you do?" Jasper growls, cheeks glistening with trails of his pained tears and dripping onto Maya's ruined skin. She becomes a blur to my sight too fast.
From beside him, Andrea gives a strained moan of discomfort, twitching around in Aiden's arms; he pulls her small frame tighter against him, but she doesn't show any sign of feeling the movement when her eyelids struggle to peel open. My brother looks up at me, pleading and helpless.
"We had no choice," Clarke says, and she visibly fights to reassure herself.
I shake the holds of Monty and Bellamy away from my hands, stumbling to reach Andrea and Aiden. The entire bottom half of her lavender shirt is swallowed by her own blood that pools around the gunshot wound, already seeping into the waistband of her pants. I drop to my knees in front of her and, upon recognizing my face, she smiles.
"I was gonna kill Cage! If you'd just given me one more minute, it would've been over!" Jasper argues from beside me, right over Maya's body that is the only thing separating us. I can't even look at her. She should have lived, she was good.
Andrea cuts in with a weak whisper, "Emily, hi."
"Hi, Drea," I choke out a forced laugh through my tears, brushing her hair back from her face and allowing my hand to linger over her braids, "You're okay, you're good, don't you worry."
"Jasper, they never would have stopped."
"I know I am," Andrea mumbles, coughing, a tiny trail of blood slipping over her blue lips, "I don't feel pain. It doesn't hurt."
"Because you're a fighter, Drea," Aiden taps her hand that's laying by her side, unwrapping his arm from around her waist, "Look at you, you're a fucking champ."
"I know, right? Hey, where's-- Where's Jasper? I gotta tell him something," she suddenly opens her eyes once again, making a sharp move to twist her body towards the boy in question. He merely looks up at her words, lips quivering.
I clear my throat quietly, shuffling aside so I'm not obstructing her view of the boy. She meets his eyes, oblivious to his own state, and gurgles up a weak, bloody laugh, "Jas, hey. Hey, did you know that-- that I think I love you?"
Her words take me by surprise, as well as they do Jasper, himself; his eyes widen and, suddenly, he seems to be torn by which body he should be cradling. I always knew the two of them shared some history -- I guess this is it.
The boy looks down at Maya, hesitant, before releasing her from his hold and he shakily crawls towards Andrea, causing Aiden to pass her unnaturally pale body over to him; she is beyond saving. She's bleeding out.
Andrea laughs absentmindedly when Jasper collects her into his lap slowly, carefully, treating her like the finest glass that will break upon the minor movement.
"May we meet again," I mumble so she doesn't hear and lift myself up from the floor and step backwards, until my back collides with a chest. It's Bellamy, wrapping an arm around my waist and beginning to lead me away. I still wait for the moment all these deaths catch up on me.
Aiden appears to be staying behind, a nod of his head signalling that I can leave and he'll take care of this. Monty also lingers, but Bellamy and I stay hot on Clarke's heels, who halts in the doorway to the dormitories on the other side of the Mess Hall, searching for her mother.
Abby is still on the cot, but sitting upright, being tended to by my father, who remains oblivious to our appearance in the room until I weakly call, "Dad!"
Bellamy relieves me of his embrace, urging me to greet him as he looks away from Abby, eyes being covered by a watery sheen as soon as they set onto me, "Emily!"
I take off in a run towards him, past Clarke, who only then gathers the courage to approach her mother, and I swiftly cross the distance between dad and I, stumbling into his outstretched arms in the very end, where he meets me with a relieved sigh, "Hey, sweetheart."
His voice is what finally takes me over the edge, and I allow myself to fall apart in his embrace with sobs that wreak my whole body, muffled by his shoulder so I don't have to mind anyone else hearing me. What matters is that I'm back in his hold, and he's safe, and now his safety is mine and he makes sure of it when I release a series of louder cries and he encases his arms tighter around me.
Even after several minutes of my crying, the dorm is still rustling and buzzing with the happiness of many reunions, families being reunited and friends discovered safe and sound; even Aiden and Monty have arrived when I escape my dad's arms, sniffing and hiding my face behind curtains of my own hair that's escaped its ponytail.
When I look up at Marcus, he's peering over my shoulder, beginning to slowly retract his hands from my shoulders, so I twist around to find out what exactly he is looking at, only to discover Bellamy, who looks to be awaiting something, or, someone.
I am embarrassed by how I probably look after several minutes of sobbing, but tumble to land into his arms nonetheless, winding my arms around his neck and pulling his lips down to meet mine. We kiss for as long as it can be deemed appropriate in said moment, so it lasts mere seconds, but it captures both our urgency and our relief to have made it out together, just like we promised.
I pull away first, landing back onto the heels of my feet, yet my arms stay around him as I lower my head, flustered, "I look like a mess right now."
"Don't care," he replies with the ghost of a smile, but it is painfully obvious that it is forced, because his eyes are clouded by the hurricane of our thunderously horrifying wrongs as he uses his hand to tip my chin back up to meet his eyes, "You're okay and that's all that matters to me."
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes again, but this time, they're of relief, and I genuinely announce, repating, "You're okay and that's all that matters to me."
Bellamy leans down to place a short but meaningful kiss onto my forehead, moving to hold me into his side when we both face my father, who nods at the two of us. It's mildly embarrassing, to kiss your boyfriend in front of your dad, but I think that, given the circumstances, it's acceptable.
"You did good," Marcus firmly assures Bellamy, who doesn't look to be agreeing in the slightest, but that's our conciousness' fight, not our's. We get to live, at least. My dad clamps his hand down onto his shoulder, "Now, let's get these people home. Let's get you home, right, Emily?"
"Yes, sir."
I nod shortly, pushing a small smile onto my lips so my dad takes it as a sign of us being okay in the long run. He doesn't know what it took for us, but it's okay, he doesn't have to.
We bear it so they don't have to.
___
END OF ACT TWO.
less than 24 hours until the epilogue.
i genuinely think that this thing, what i'm experiencing now, is heartbreak. i've been crying the whole day, throughout writing, throughout these 9 thousand words, throughout rewatching the last episode of season 2 and throughout the end of emily's journey in mount weather.
i've written this book for 2 whole years as of now, and it's been a wild ride. and now that i've prolonged this author's note enough for midnight to strike, i will publish this chapter.
happy birthday, dubiety, and, simultaneously, goodbye for now.
i will see you tomorrow, for the epilogue and for some very heartwarming news (for me and possibly for you).
meanwhile, i guess you can cheer yourself up with my other books -- game on (fred weasley) is still ongoing and i don't know, maybe while you wait for an update on emily's continuing story 👁👄👁 you could also keep an eye out for a new publishing that is coming soon! 👀 hint: high school musical, the musical, the series.
i'll see you tomorrow, or i guess today, same place.
- ana (:
july 15, 2020.