Chapter 6
''It's all clear,'' Bellamy announces once he dares peek his head outside, ''Anybody out here?! Jones?!''
''We're here!!!'' someone shouts from a remote distance.
''Thank God,'' I breathe in relief. We run immediately toward familiar voices, and I don't quite realize just how amazing it feels to see all of these faces again.
''Lost you in the stew,'' Bellamy frowns, ''Where'd you go?''
''Made it to a cave down there,'' Jones explains, pointing westwards, ''The hell was that thing?''
''Acid,'' I reply immediately, ''And I'm pretty sure we can expect it sometime again.''
Jones scowls, almost in pain, but I know he feels the same fear of the unknown right now that we all do.
''We need to find Atom,'' Bellamy remembers, and with a recalled terror in our guts we split up into a search.
We don't dare split up far enough to get separated. I keep to Bellamy, with Charlotte insisting on helping in the search, yet somehow always up ahead of us. We try to keep up, but the kid is agile and full of energy and with an eagerness to help that only a child can have. I've told her to not get separated or she'll get lost, but it takes reminding, because somehow she's always disappearing every now and then. Maybe she's decided to take Bellamy's advice immediately - no more being afraid.
But she's just a kid, and when we hear her shrill screams in the distance and run toward the sound, I'm reminded of just that. She's found Atom, burned and blistered and dying on the ground, and she's screaming and crying, because what kid wouldn't?
''Son of a bitch, Atom.''
''Charlotte, get back!'' I order, pulling her behind me, ''Don't look, do you hear me?!''
She takes a few steps back with a nod and a devastated look on her face, obeying. Bellamy and I get down to our knees, but there is no helping the boy, I know it before my knees touch the ground. No matter how much Bellamy wants to help him, or how much he checks his body to find a solution - our hands are tied. Atom's dying, and in terrifying agony at that too.
''Kill me,'' he barely manages to gasp out, begging, ''Kill me. Kill... me.''
Others start catching up and appearing for the spectacle, yet all I can do is stare just like the rest of them. My hands are dull and something's blocking my windpipe - I am useless at the sight of him. I barely notice when Charlotte pulls out her knife, and offers it to Bellamy. ''Don't be afraid,'' she says.
I know it's the right thing to do. He will die, and that can't be changed. The least we can do is spare him the pain. The absurdity of the whole moment is lost on me, and I cannot even begin to fathom the fact that - out of all of us - Charlotte is somehow the one with the maturity to understand this. And Bellamy just sits next to me, on his knees, knife in hand, staring at Atom, unable to move, unable to speak.
''I... can't... breathe,'' the dying boy croaks, and Bellamy finally moves his hand, only an inch. It looks like he'll break down before he can touch Atom.
''Bellamy,'' I only say, ''It's okay. It's your call. This is mercy but it's still your call,'' is what I wanted to say. I silently hope he can recognize it. All I can do is call his name, charged with everything I mean. I know I can't do it. I wouldn't blame him if he couldn't. It's unfair, and it's fallen upon him.
''Go back to camp,'' Bellamy finally finds his voice.
''Go,'' I add, refusing to leave him now, ''Take Charlotte.''
Jones takes Charlotte's hand and the rest of the group follows. Once they're gone behind the treeline, Bellamy looks at me and for a moment I think he might break. He grips that knife so hard that the fingers around the handle have gone completely white. I only look back, not daring to try and encourage him with words.
''Kill... me. Bell...a...my... pl...ea..se,'' Atom barely manages to cry again as I put a hand on Bellamy's shoulder. He's trying - I know he's focusing on getting his hand to move.
And then comes our princess.
''Clarke!'' I almost scream her name in delight, jumping to my feet, feeling relief as though just having someone else here will somehow make everything easier. And maybe it's just good to see another familiar face after two days of terror that seem to have lasted an eternity. Clarke rushes to us, kneels right next to us, and looks at the dying boy on the ground. Atom is still trying to beg, but no sound is coming out of him. He is wheezing now, as the remnants of acid in his body eat away at tissue.
''I heard screams,'' Clarke explains, like it's needed.
''Charlotte found him,'' Bellamy says, a tortured look on his face, ''We sent her back to camp.''
Clarke looks Atom's body over, sighs, gives us a heartbroken shake of her head, and we nod, because we know, we've known all along - Atom was dead the moment he fell.
''Okay,'' Clarke speaks to Atom, ''I'm gonna help you, alright?''
She runs her hands through his hair gently and starts humming a song that would have calmed a war to a halt, and I just stand there, watching, a lump in my throat, as she takes the knife from Bellamy's hand and gently inserts it into Atom's neck. She's done it with so much kindness that I truly don't think he ever even felt it slip in. I cry silently as he bleeds out. Clarke sings still, until Atom's completely gone. All Bellamy can do is stare at Clarke who's done what he couldn't, and all I can do is stare at the red river flowing out of Atom's neck now that my tears have violently stopped.
It's the worst trip back to the Drop-Ship so far, as we haul Atom's body and meet up with Finn and Wells. Atom's body isn't too heavy, but he's heavy on all of us. It's Bellamy that hauls him on a makeshift gurney, in silence all along. We're all exhausted, body and mind. I don't remember the last time I've felt this emotionally spent. And yet despite all of this tiredness that's seeped into our very bones, we have to hurry, for Jasper.
''You guys should move up ahead, Jasper can't wait,'' I tell them, ''We'll be right behind you.''
''There could be Grounders around here, you can't be alone, pulling Atom along,'' Finn reasons.
''I'll stay with them,'' Wells offers. Finn and Clarke decide that's within reason, so they all but run ahead, leaving us to haul Atom's body back to camp and guard each other.
''The guts to make the hard choices, huh,'' I say after a while of dragging my feet, but not with spite. Bellamy isn't cold-blooded or blood-thirsty, and that's a good thing. I'm not nagging him about it; I'm pointing it out because he needs to recognize that's his asset, not a liability. Bellamy couldn't even kill Atom out of mercy, there was no way in hell he would have ever been capable of harming Jasper. And honestly, before anything - that's a relief.
He doesn't reply anything to that. Wells also keeps silent, all the way back home.
We make it back to camp about fourty minutes after Clarke and Finn, as we're informed. Wells goes off to dig Atom's grave immediately, silently taking up that task. I stick around to help Bellamy deal with the body, yet once I touch it over the sheet of fabric and old jacket that we've covered him with, I can't help but recoil. He's still warm. I don't know why that sickens me so much. You could almost mistake him for someone still breathing.
''Octavia, just stay there,'' Bellamy suddenly shouts; I look up - the girl is rushing toward us, shoving everyone out of the way, ''Please, stay back!''
''Why?'' she insists, but he pushes against, tries to stop her from approaching. She manages to push Bellamy away anyway and lift the jacket that covers Atom's face before I can even say anything.
''There's nothing I could do-,'' Bellamy starts explaining, but she won't hear it.
''Don't,'' Octavia hisses, then just starts crying. Bellamy tries to touch her, awkwardly, to talk to her and explain, but she just rejects him, pushes him away, shakes her head in denial, hisses back, almost hits him. Then she just storms off and runs away somewhere and an instinct tell me this girl could do something very stupid right about now. I ignore that instinct, because I can hardly process everything that's happened myself. The horror of everything suddenly grips me, the realization of just how unsafe we all are. The realization comes fast, washes over me like a rainshower, and moves on just as fast as it came, running through me like a ghost. Can't dwell on that now. We have a body to bury, and an acid fog to explain.
I pull the jacket back over Atom's face. Bellamy can still hardly move, looking out toward where Octavia had ran.
''Lose anyone here?'' he asks Murphy once he reports.
''No.''
''Jasper?''
''Still breathing. Barely,'' Murphy replies, ''I tried to take him out, but your psycho little sister…''
Bellamy lunges at Murphy and shoves him so fast that I don't even catch it. It took the one second I used to look down at Atom once more, and when I looked up again his hand was already gripping Murphy's shirt right below his throat.
''Hey, hey, hey!'' I shout. Murphy is an ass, but this day's already horrible enough for all of us.
''Bellamy…'' Murphy starts, but Bellamy just pulls him harder, gets all up in his face. Murphy has to tiptoe to stay on the ground.
''My what? My what?'' Bellamy growls, demanding.
''Bellamy,'' I call, warning, trying to tell him that it's not worth it.
''Your little sister,'' Murphy corrects himself, so Bellamy shoves him off, letting go of him. Murphy stumbles back, almost falling from the force.
''Yeah, that's right. My little sister,'' Bellamy spits, ''Got anything else you want to say about her?!''
Murphy just stands there, staring at Bellamy's face, with the most passive, uninterested look on his face that I might have ever seen. After all this you'd think he'd show at least a little bit of fear - but no, that wouldn't be John Murphy. ''Nothing,'' he finally replies, almost dragging it out, ''Sorry.''
Bellamy just sizes Murphy up one last time. He spits something else at him that I don't catch, because Jones and a few other boys have come to pick up Atom. Murphy's already out of sight when I turn around.
''Wells is still digging,'' I tell Jones, ''But it's better to take him away as soon as possible. Out of sight.'' Jones nods, understanding. I suddenly realize I know nothing about this boy except his name, yet after the past two days I feel a kind of trust toward him and everyone else in our hunting group that I've never experienced before.
Bellamy still hasn't moved.
''Hey,'' I call to him, ''You okay?''
He doesn't reply. When I approach him, he doesn't even look back at me - his eyes just dart across the camp restlessly as he tries to settle down his breathing.
''Octavia liked the boy,'' I'd long concluded, ''But it's not your fault.''
''I didn't let them,'' he replies, angry at himself, nostrils flaring, shaking his head. ''I was trying to protect her,'' he adds after a moment of heartbreak. He looks like he could cry, and this time, he actually looks at me. He wants to justify himself to the whole universe, and hopes that justifying himself to me, to anyone, will be enough. I watch him swallow the lump in his throat, and I see the clenching of the knuckles on his hips, and the veins that pulse on his temple and neck, and the way his jaw is set. He might break, except that he wouldn't dare. If he breaks, what the hell will the rest of us do?! I think he knows he's the backbone of this camp now, and I hate that I know it too.
''What's done is done. We move forward,'' I make myself say, ''No use looking back. Unless it's to draw a lesson from it.''
He nods. He knows. He's learned the lesson.
''Octavia will be okay,'' I say, and mean it.
''I know,'' he replies.
''We all did our best,'' I squeeze his forearm, ''Let's go check on Jasper.''
He accepts the proposition, so we go together.
*
The Drop-Ship no longer trembles with the echoes of Jasper's cries. Relief rushes through me when we see he's better - visibly better. His breathing is even, and his sleep seems to be calm now.
''Guess we'll get to sleep tonight,'' I smile, somehow drawing a few smiles back. Monty's shines the brightest.
And we do sleep. There is finally peace, yet after such a long nightmare, the silence almost seems out of place, like there is something missing, like we've gotten used to the terrifying cries and fear and anxiety looming over our minds.
*
I sleep less than I thought I would. I guess that once you ruin your sleep schedule, getting truly nourishing sleep again becomes a difficult task. It's Octavia that wakes me up, just as the sun starts rising over the edge of the horizon. She apologizes in a hushed whisper as she steps around my cot to walk out of the Drop-Ship. Everyone else is still asleep.
''Where are you going?'' I ask, whispering. I only notice now that she's been crying, as I rub the sleep out of my eyes. Her whole face is puffy and still pink.
''The graveyard,'' she whispers back softly.
''I'm coming with,'' I say, knowing I won't be able to fall asleep again. And none of us should wander alone. And I feel an odd pull to go to Atom's grave again.
Octavia nods in gratefulness, sniffling, before we silently make our way outside.
''I'm sorry about Atom,'' I tell her as we walk, because I haven't had the chance yet, ''There really wasn't anything we could have done. We barely made it ourselves.''
''I know.''
''Bellamy wanted to help him but there was nothing he could have done-''
''I know.''
It's not about that, apparently. I don't push that narrative anymore.
When we get to the graveyard, I don't even notice Wells right away. Octavia collects some flowers and puts them down on Atom's grave, so I walk away a bit to give her some privacy. Right around the corner, I find Wells, lying in a pool of his own blood. And it takes a long moment to sink in, too long. The shock of it takes over me.
''Oh, my God. Octavia,'' is all I can say, or merely breathe out.
''What? What is it?'' I hear her footsteps coming closer as I stand there, petrified, unable to take my eyes off this new horror.
''Oh, my God,'' she echoes me in barely a whisper, yet her fear is somehow so loud that I want to cover my ears and bury my face somewhere in the ground, run away, run away from all of this. Somehow I bring myself back to reality and remember to check Wells's pulse even though I know he's dead, he's cold, all of his blood has seeped out of him, he's done.
''We need to tell Bellamy,'' Octavia panicks.
''Wait,'' I stop her. Right in the pool of the remaining redness that hasn't yet soaked into the earth, lies a knife. I pull it out, and my skin crawls at the touch of Wells's thick blood. I feel light-headed.
''He was murdered,'' I breathe, the words sounding foreign to me, ''We need to alarm the whole camp.''