Chapter 26
It's becoming increasingly hard to move. The arrowhead in my calf is intact and therefore not moving too much - which luckily doesn't allow much bleeding - but it doesn't take me long to realize what's going on. The effects of the poison kick in pretty quickly. I also know how this story is likely to end if I don't do the only thing I can do now - go the only place I can go.
Lincoln's cave.
He has to have left a lot behind - he'd surely only packed essentials before he made off with Octavia - and if I see the antidote we once used on Finn and O, I'll surely recognize it. If there is no antidote, well... then I'm dead.
The problem is getting there. I've been there before, and I know how to find my way from where I now am - that's not a problem. The problem is my leg, and my fever, and my exhaustion, and dawn is breaking. I am alone, exposed, weak, wounded and hardly armed. It won't take much effort now to kill me, whoever comes my way.
I stagger ahead, trying not to put pressure on my right leg, trying not to faint with my now accelerated breathing and heartbeat. I feel dizzy, and even one step ahead is exhausting. I know it for what it is - arrhythmia and lung blockage.
This is bad. I know that if my lungs get just a bit more clogged, I won't be able to move anymore. I'm sweating as fever shakes me - hot sweat, cold sweat, cyclically. My legs - or leg, more like - are too weak. I can't go on, and yet I do - mind over matter. I am closer now. The tunnel is just through that treeline and below the underbrush enveloping the hillside.
I crawl - I have to now - and the more ground I manage to cover the more I rely on my arms and less on my legs, eventually ending up just dragging them behind me. It's exhausting. I'm positively wheezing now - I can barely breathe, especially once liquid starts forming in my lungs and coughing bouts start seizing me when it was hard enough to breathe without them. I think my heart will burst even before my lungs betray me, at the speed that it pumps. I have to literally claw at the ground to get myself into the tunnel leading into Lincoln's hideout.
And I've clawed my way to it.
I did it.
Scraped elbows and knees and pain everywhere, I make my way through, hurrying more now, pulling my last bits of strength out of God knows where - because dying here would be unacceptable. I am so close, so damn close.
Proning. One arm in front of the other. One leg after the other. My lungs work less and less. My ''breathing'' can be heard outside.
So close. Just a bit further. Just a few more pulls of my hands. Just a bit more strength for my arms.
Until I tumble through and land on the cold floor of the cave. The impact as I land on my back has most of what little air there is in my lungs just escape me.
''Fuck,'' I wheeze as soon as I gulp down enough air to be able to. Struggling, I turn over, ignoring the spots in my vision, dancing in the corners of my eyes. I need to get back on all fours. I need to find Lincoln's stash.
I hear the unmistakable sound of a bow string being pulled behind me.
''Don't. Move.''
*
No way.
No fucking way.
I freeze, lying belly down on the ground.
''Waste of an arrow,'' I manage to wheeze out, ''I suggest... you wait a minute instead.''
Darkness takes over me.
*
When I wake up, it takes me a moment to realize where I am and what has happened and what kind of situation I am in. I find myself on a makeshift cot, next to a fire. Still in Lincoln's cave.
Then I'm alarmed.
When I try to scramble up and move, worse pain than ever before shoots through my leg, and it's beyond me when I cry the hell out. So much for stealth and silence. The animals in the forest above me could have heard my growls.
I lift the pelt I'm half-covered with to look at my leg, only to find blood gushing out of the wound. No arrowhead.
I panic again.
''I said don't move,'' he says, that voice again, and I don't recognize him the moment I see him - all I see is a huge person and a looming shadow covering half the lit up cave and all I've known is Grounders and death so how could I have possibly reacted any differently than I do when I make for my knife?
But when I feel up, it isn't on my belt.
More panic. Another mini heart-attack.
The man pushes me back to the ground, back to a lying position, and I am so weak, there is no fighting him. I'm not sure I would be able to fight him even with my full strength and health intact. He holds me down with one hand only.
With the other he pulls out a red hot dagger right off the coals.
I squirm against him, head unclear, thoughts a mess, alarmed, because someone helping me in this moment is the last God damn possibility on my mind.
''Stay still,'' he growls, easily managing to keep me down, and when he presses that blade against my flesh I scream out until the blackness takes me again.
*
I wake up feeling almost as weak as I felt with that virus in my system. My lungs work properly and my heart beats steadily though, which is a relief. My leg still hurts and burns, but there is something cold and soothing on it. I still have a fever, or the last remnants of it. I'm not as cold.
I open my eyes.
''You're awake.''
I turn around to meet the source of the voice, but too fast - it's another one of those splitting headaches that rampages through my skull.
''Easy,'' the man says, reading my expression of pain. He's sitting on the other side of a fire, sharpening a knife. My knife.
For the first time since I tumbled in here, I look up at his face. And I almost think I'm dreaming.
''Rand?''
How? What is he doing here? What has happened? His people- My people!
''The wound won't fester but you need to lie low, regain your strength,'' he says, ''The poison is still not out of your system completely.''
''What are you doing here?''
''What are you doing here?'' he asks.
''Medicine. I was dying,'' I oblige him, ''This was the only place I could go.''
''I am glad you didn't die with the rest,'' he says.
''Why are you helping me?''
''Why wouldn't I? I have no quarrel with you.''
''But your people do. With my people.''
''I am no longer with my people,'' he replies, ''And as far as I can tell, you're not either.''
''I need to get back to the Drop-Ship,'' I sit up hurriedly, pushing off the pelt. I should have recognized that as a bad idea before another bout of sharp pain spreads through my skull with the force of twenty hammers.
''You won't find anyone there,'' he replies calmly, casually, like it's nothing.
''What-?''
''Your people. They're not there. The Mountain Men surely took whoever survived.''
''The Mountain Men?'' I'd heard Octavia mention them to us, but none of us really knew what any of that meant.
''See, both our people are stupid,'' he says instead of a reply, still sharpening the blade, ''We knew they were coming. They always come, it's just a matter of when. And while we were slaughtering each other, all the Mountain Men had to do was simply swoop in.''
''What are you talking about?'' This is too much for my still feverish head. I'm not getting any of it. Mountain Men? Is there another clan of Grounders that's a bigger threat, a threat to all of us?
''It doesn't matter,'' he says, ''Your people are gone. Mountain-bound. There's nothing you can do for them now.''
''I'll be the judge of that,'' I growl, suddenly angry, ''If they're alive, I'm not sitting idly.''
''And what will you do, hmm? Storm a mountain full of Mountain Men by yourself and rescue your friends? With your bow and arrows. They might even be dead by now.''
''Bellamy-,'' I say, my voice breaking a bit, ''And all of my friends, they- I know they survived. And if they're alive, somewhere-''
''What, girl? What will you do?''
''I will turn the world upside down if need be,'' I say, almost through my teeth, almost shaking, determined, ''But for now, the basics. Tell me everything you know about these Mountain Men.''
*
Rand talks for an hour or so. I listen, putting the pieces together. By what I've gathered, the Mountain Men are quite technologically advanced - they're more like us than the Grounders. Which makes the whole thing even more weird. I can't understand why someone would literally abduct people. Kill them on spot? Sure. But take them alive? Why? And especially if they're a civilized people - why?
The fact that there are people on this God forsaken planet with technology similar to ours is mindblowing of its own. It's hardly sinking in.
''They take people, and they take them away to the mountain,'' I recap, trying to digest it all.
Rand gives a solemn nod. ''None ever return.''
''We'll see about that.''
I have no idea how I could ever help them, but I'm not accepting the fact that they're gone either. If they're gone, I'm gone too. What would I do for the rest of my days - live with Rand in Lincoln's cave and try not to die each time I step outside? No. I've already lost everything. During all this time on Earth I never realized I gained something too. A family.
I can't lose a family again. I don't have that kind of strength in me.
''What are you doing here, Rand?''
He pauses for a moment as he cooks something over the fire, before he indulges me with an answer.
''I refused to march. That's desertion, by law,'' he says, ''My life was spared, but I was exiled.''
''Well, I'm glad you're alive,'' I say honestly, ''How did you find this place? Did you know Lincoln?''
''Somewhat. He's a good man. Wise. The type of man people should listen to,'' he says, stirring something in the pot - my stomach grumbles at the smell, ''But they never do.''
''Yeah, we have someone like that too,'' I smile, thinking of Finn.
He pours some of the steaming hot stew into a bowl and hands it to me.
''Eat. You have to, if you want your strength back.''
''I do need to get back to the Drop-Ship,'' I say, taking the wooden bowl. It's pleasantly warm in my hands, and it smells better than I remember food smelling.
''I told you, you won't find anyone-''
''I know,'' I say, ''But I need to go, regardless. I need to see. I have to start somewhere.''