Chapter 24
Leaving isn't easy. The walls we worked on day and night to build, the outposts from which we watched to protect this place... the drop-ship itself, offering some safety and protection from whatever was out there - this place was more than a home. The tents in which we slept, and the fires around which we sat - these are the things that have not only kept us alive but made us a family. Bellamy's tent, where I grabbed my hours of sleep between shifts, and the cot on which I felt warm - they almost made me feel the way I felt as a child. I never thought I could feel that feeling of being at home again, but in brief moments, here, I did.
I can't help thinking about the graveyard we're leaving behind either. We might never again see this place, and no one would ever know that Wells lies there, and Atom, and Myles, and Derek, and all the others. It will be almost like they never even existed, like they never fought. Somehow, that's more heartbreaking than anything else.
I try, but it's hard not to think about this as I pack, essentials only. We're taking so little, but leaving so much behind. Past a single change of warmer clothing in my pack, my weapons are all I take. A gun, ammo, the knife on my belt, and the bow and quiver over my shoulder make me look almost like a soldier, but I feel weak and ridiculous. I could never measure up against a grounder.
While everyone else is getting ready, I work on my message for Monty. It takes a while to carve it into the wall with my poor excuse for a knife, but by the time everyone's ready to go, the words are big enough to grab attention.
''MONTY WE WENT EAST TO THE OCEAN THEY WILL TAKE YOU IN''
''If he's smart as I know he is, he won't come back here,'' Bellamy tells me, admiring the big sign, ''He knows the Grounders are coming.''
''Have you met Monty?'' I tell him instead, ''He'd never leave us to fight alone.''
*
''Okay, here we go!''
''Guns at the ready!''
''Keep your eyes open!''
''Gunners flank the rest,'' Miller goes over the formation plan again, ''Gunners at the van, gunners at the tail too. Got it? Everyone else, stay inside and keep formation.''
I don't turn back once we leave. If I look back on the Drop-Ship, my heart will break. So we go on, eyes ahead, carefully, quietly, yet hurriedly. On alert.
I'm at the van with Miller, and with Octavia - much to Bellamy's protests. Though it's technically the least safe position should something happen, I still feel safer at the forefront. I need to be able to see. Maybe it just gives me some false sense of control.
*
I don't think any of us has any sense of time passing. We've been walking for a while now, and with every mile we cover, it seems that we start feeling just a bit safer, like we might just get away after all. The silence gives, and after a while people start chatting, relaxing even, despite the van being on high alert enough for everyone.
''You know the first thing I'm gonna do when I get to the beach?'' Miller asks.
''No, what?'' Drew indulges him.
''You're probably just gonna throw yourself in the water to wash the stink away once this hike is through, trust me,'' I grin, eyes never leaving the foliage ahead.
''No, but listen,'' Miller announces theatrically, ''I... am going surfing.''
Drew snorts. Someone else chuckles.
''If you can make a decent surfboard,'' I argue.
''Which I can,'' insists Miller.
''Give it to Raven,'' I grin, ''Let her tinker for two days and she might just attach an engine.''
''Then you could drive your ass to Europe,'' Drew motions, flapping his hand silly.
I snort, shaking my head. ''Drew, you know nothing.''
''Quiet,'' Jasper hushes us nervously, ''Keep your eyes open.''
''Relax, Jasper, we're whispering,'' I argue.
''But just imagine it though,'' Drew goes on, ''No more woods. A view of the ocean. No more damn trees, just pale, blue water.''
''I don't know, I kinda like the trees,'' I shrug. Drew and Miller scowl at me instantly and give me that exactly-how-crazy-are-you look.
''Stop, stop, stop!''
The hush goes through the formation. We freeze. Fear comes back faster than ever, if it was ever gone in the first place. Something coils in my stomach. My hands clasp the M16 tighter, instantly sweating. My heart's already accelerated, and I can almost hear it pumping. I look around, frantically. I see nothing.
''What is it?'' I ask Octavia, uneasy.
''What is it?'' someone echoes through the crowd.
''Why are we stopping?'' the whispers travel.
''I don't know. I don't see anything,'' someone else says nervously.
Then it happens.
*
A blade strikes Drew right in the face. His body falls with a thud right next to my feet, head split in two, already spilling a pool of dark blood beneath my boots.
Dead.
''GROUNDERS!!!!''
''Move, move, move!''
''I don't see anyone!''
''They're right behind us!''
''Go, go, go!''
We run. I don't have a second to register Drew's death; I don't even have a shred of a moment to acknowledge that that could have been me. Drew was right next to me, shoulder to shoulder. One moment we were talking, the next he was nothing but sliced up meat below my feet. And all I can do is run.
*
We run back toward the camp, and though I'm keeping my gun ready and trying my best to stay alert, I see nothing. Nobody else screams, or falls, nothing else seems to come our way. No axes, spears, or arrows flying - hell, not even a sign of a possible attack. At first, the realization doesn't set in, because we're all so terrified, and all I can care about is running, running as fast as I can. But then, somewhere half through the run back, it hits me - they're herding us back into our pen.
They've done this before, and yet - we can't do much else. We don't have a choice.
''Behind the wall!''
''Shut the gate! Shut the gate!''
Silence falls on the camp as soon as the gates are shut. It's as though no one dares to breathe. Nothing can be heard, except the sounds of the forest at night.
We stand ready, guns poised, everyone at their respective position. We wait. I look out through the scope, sheltered behind the wall. My heart beats too damn fast, but my hands are steady.
I see nothing out there.
''Where are they? Why aren't they attacking?'' Bellamy asks.
''Because we're doing exactly what they wanted us to do,'' Clarke says, reading my mind.
''What are you talking about?'' asks Bell.
''They've herded us back here,'' I explain desperately.
''Lincoln said the scouts would be the first to arrive,'' Clarke argues.
''If it's just scouts, we can fight our way out,'' Octavia insists, ''That's what Lincoln would do.''
''We're done doing what that grounder would do,'' Bellamy growls, ''We tried it, and now Drew is dead. You wanna be next?''
''That grounder saved their lives!'' I insist, correcting him, ''And a grounder pretty much saved mine! You wanna just forget about that fact?!''
''Exactly,'' Finn nods, ''And I agree with Octavia - for all we know there's one scout out there.''
''One scout with insanely good aim,'' Jasper quips.
''Clarke, we can still do this,'' Octavia practically begs her to make the decision. Bu how could any of us know what the right choice is here? How could Clarke bear to make that decision for all of us?
For a moment, Clarke just stands there, weighing it all out.
''Looking to you, princess,'' Bellamy says, ''What's it gonna be? Run and get picked off out in the open, or stand and fight back?''
''We're running out of time, Clarke,'' I urge her.
''Clarke,'' Finn starts, ''If we're still here when Tristan gets here-''
''Lincoln said "scouts". More than one. He said, "get home before the scouts arrive". Finn, they're already here,'' she says, turning to Bellamy, ''Looks like you've got your fight.''
''Okay, then!'' he announces, ''This is what we've been preparing for! Kill them before they kill us! Gunners, to your posts! Use the tunnels to get in and out! From now on, the gate stays closed!''
Everyone around me is rushing back to their positions. I find that, for a moment, I can't move. It's as though my feet are frozen solid to the ground, and I realize I'm more afraid than I ever thought I would be. When I look at Finn, he has his hands on his head, exasperated, desperate, devastated.
''Come on,'' Miller gives me a push, ''On me.''
I give Finn one final look before we tear off through the tunnel.
*
We get to our positions, as hidden as we can be, guns ready at the foxholes, awaiting orders.
''O, you don't have a gun,'' I note.
''But I've got this,'' she whips out a machete I didn't even know she was packing.
''Lincoln?'' I ask.
''Yeah.''
''Hope he taught you how to use it,'' I say, though I mean it like a prayer.
''All foxholes, listen up,'' Bellamy's voice sounds through Miller's walkie, ''Keep your eyes and ears open. Inflict casualties, as many as possible. You can hold them off long enough to make them turn back. That's the plan.''
''Great,'' I breathe, taking Miller's radio, ''Bellamy, you know we won't have enough ammo to get them to turn back.''
''We've got those landmines too,'' he argues, ''Remember, we don't have to kill them all, we just have to make them think we're not worth the trouble. If we can make them turn back, that's victory.''
''Great,'' I mutter again beneath my breath. There's no turning back from this point now, even if it seemed like we had a choice before. This is it. I'll have to kill.
Even worse, if I'm lucky, I'll have to watch my people get killed.
*
For a while, we just wait. Raven comes up with another plan, to use the rocket fuel. This would be the endgame, the thing that ensures we win, if we can hold them off for that long.
I'm not sure we can.
We're still waiting, when the night turns pitch black. I knew they would come at night. They know the terrain and have every advantage, and don't need the light of day the way we do. So even as I'm terrified, I am not surprised when the war drums start booming through the night air.
I've never been this scared by a sound before. The nearer it draws, the more it chills my blood, and with every new boom, I feel I could cry if I wasn't under so much shock. The sweat on my palms is cold, matching the shivers and goosebumps that the drums are causing. Quickly, I wipe my hands against my pants.
The nervousness is almost contagious, and I see it in everyone around me, in every pair of eyes glistening with terror. Monroe, though one of our best gunners, is struggling the most, teetering on the edge of a panic attack. Miller is somehow the calmest, eyes almost flawlessly trained ahead. For a moment, I wonder if the three of us can even handle this one foxhole.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Dum, dum, dum, dum, dum, dum.
The sound of the drums isn't exactly helping any of us gather the bravery and confidence.
''We keep it together,'' I say, my palms jittery on the rifle, ''Not for ourselves. Alright? There's people depending on us.''
''Right,'' Monroe nods hectically, her body almost entirely vibrating, ''Right.''
''Hey! Zoey?'' I insist, ''You're the best damn shot we have. If anyone can handle this, it's you.''
She only looks at me, nervous as ever, eyes glistening with moisture. But then she nods appreciatively, seemingly accepting it.
''Where's Octavia?'' Bellamy demands out of nowhere, jumping in.
''She left 5 minutes ago, didn't say where to,'' Miller replies, ''She thinks she's a damn samurai.''
''You see anything?'' Bellamy asks me.
''Not a damn thing,'' I say, my voice shaky.
''What the hell are they waiting for?'' Monroe wails, and for a moment I really think she'll start crying.
''The longer they wait, the better,'' Bellamy tells her, ''This is about buying time for Raven.''
''I see them, they're moving!'' a voice sounds through the radio, ''I count two, three- no, wait, there's more! I don't know, man, there's too damn many of them!''
''Who was that?!'' I ask urgently.
''Sterling, I think,'' Miller replies, ''South foxhole!''
''South foxhole, report now,'' Bellamy calls.
''Yeah, yeah. We're ok,'' Sterling replies, to my relief, ''They didn't attack... it's like shooting at ghosts.''
''There!'' I see one, moving like a shadow, one moment there, another gone, ''Did you see that?!!'' I panic.
''Another one!'' Monroe cries, and then there are two, three, four, five of them, running like shadows around us, and before another thought can spring, Monroe and Miller are shooting - at what, I don't know - because not even my eyes can catch one, let alone my bullet.
''Stop! Stop! Hold your fire! Hold your fire!'' Bellamy shouts, ''Reload! Now!''
''Those were our last clips,'' Miller says, his gun clicking empty, my heart falling into the heels of my feet.
''We should- We should fall back,'' Monroe stutters.
''We can't,'' I want to cry in desperation, re-adjusting my rifle nervously, ''We're what's keeping them from our front door.''
''Exactly,'' Bellamy positions himself too, ''This position can't fall.''
''It's like they're literally trying to make us waste bullets,'' I spit, ''And we just fell for it.''
Before I can get a reply to that, an explosion booms somewhere to our left.
''At least we know the mines are working,'' Miller says. Jasper shouts as much through the radio, like he's just gotten the best Unity Day present ever.
''Jasper, we need you in the Drop-Ship right now,'' Clarke calls.
''Negative,'' Bellamy replies, ''We can't give up the west woods.''
''The west woods are mined, Bellamy. The grounders just figured that out,'' Clarke argues, ''Jasper, get in here.''
''I can take his spot,'' I offer.
''No one's changing position now,'' Bellamy insists, before firing at a Grounder running up ahead.
He has to have missed him. They are elusive, impossible to catch. I aim, but the Grounder moves the moment I train my gun on him.
I've already wasted a full clip on nothing.
''This is insane, it's impossible,'' I breathe, shaken to the bone. Bellamy fires again. Nothing.
Of course.
''All gunners, listen up!'' Jasper calls, confirming my suspicions, ''The grounders are not attacking, they're making us waste bullets! Don't shoot when they're running laterally!''
''Jasper's right. Don't fire until you're sure it's attack,'' Bellamy announces, ''Repeat, do not fire until you are sure.''
Standstill. No one fires. No Grounders appear again either. They've figured out that we're onto them.
More waiting. More horrible, painful, anxious, horrifying waiting, as time stretches defying all rules of reality.
Then, for the first time today - they come.
''Here they come!'' Miller announces, as the silhouettes near from the bushes.
Monroe runs, I see it in my peripheral vision, but my feet are glued to the ground even as the Grounders near me. Bellamy and I stand shooting, focused, terrified, but in control.
I don't miss. Grounders drop dead, one by one, until I'm out of bullets. And I'm out of bullets fast, way before they can even reach us. Time speeds up now, when I need it slow and steady, and next thing I know I am face to face with pure hatred.
I am toppled on to the ground before I can register it. The rifle is no longer in my hands, useless as it is. The Grounder is almost too heavy for me to breathe below him, let alone to try and fight him off. He pulls back, allowing me a breath, only to swing his axe, hard. In that one moment, I know it's meant to split my skull. It's my reflexes that save my life as I half-roll to the side and the axe splits the ground next to me instead. Too close for comfort, and too little time bought - I know I can't do this forever. The axe is up in the air again.
And I'm pretty sure I'm breathing my last.