Chapter 46
''You,'' I said, barely hearing myself. There is no way anyone else could have heard me, not even Monroe standing right next to me, so there is no way anyone can stop me when I tear off and leap onto the man like a cheetah.
He never saw me coming. He's on the ground and I've punched him with all the strength I could muster and just as he's recollected himself in defense my hands are already around his throat, squeezing with the strength I never thought I had, burning with the hatred I never thought I was capable of. I want him to die. He's fighting back, trying to get me off of him, but I am so strong and so eager and all I can do is pray to some absent God to let me squeeze the life out of this man before someone tears me away from him.
My prayers go unanswered. Just as he's about to lose consciousness, hands are on me, and with more struggle than they've probably expected they'd need, they tear me off of the man.
There are some shouts and cries around me, there have to be, but I am deafened by my hatred just as much as I am blinded. I have tunnel vision; I don't even know who has a hold on me. All I see is him still on the ground and all I want and try to do is tear off again and this time bite into the artery on his neck instead.
Frank fucking Nichols. The man who tried to rape me. The man who deserves to die.
The longer I'm held the less I'm seeing red. They have a firm hold on me, and I am starting to realize I no longer stand a chance. Nichols is still on the ground, though sitting now and holding his throat and coughing and glaring daggers at me. No one seems to dare approach him, even to help him up. The red curtain is finally down now, and I am aware of Dwyght and Monroe's hands on me. I stop trying to fight them off, to show them I'm not hostile now. They still hold me though, uncertainly, with less force, with horrified frowns on their faces, probably ready as hell to shower me with questions and determine if I've gone completely nuts.
Nichols strides toward me. ''What the hell is wrong with you?!'' he shouts. And at that I lose it again.
''Me? ME?! YOU SON OF A BITCH-'' Dwyght has made a mistake of loosening his grip on me, because I am now loose again and a few feet away from the one I want to kill with my bare hands. Before I can though, hands are on me again. I am screaming, as Nichols just stands there at arm's reach and watches me struggle against hands trying to keep me in control. Looking at me like I'm crazy. Like I'm the psycho one.
''YOU'LL PAY. YOU'LL FUCKING PAY FOR EVERYTHING YOU DID OR I SWEAR TO GOD-''
''Tasha!!'' Monroe shouts. Dwyght now has my hands firmly behind my back.
''Get her out of here!'' Frank shouts, pissed, wiping the blood off his lip carefully. The audacity he has to be pissed. The audacity to order me out like I'm the one disturbing public order.
''No!'' I shout as Dwyght and Monroe literally have to drag me away from the scene - it's only now that I realize everyone present is staring in horror. ''What are you doing?! Put him in custody, he's fucking dangerous-!''
They hear me shout some more before Dwyght and Monroe and now Sean too manage to drag me to a safe distance away. Which means out of camp altogether. ''Don't make me tie your hands for real,'' Dwyght says with some probably undeserved kindness before he lets go of my hands. With a promise I won't do anything, he trusts me and lets me free.
We're in the small forest behind, among the trees that seem to manage to calm me down at least a little bit. They stare at me silently and horrified as I pace around trying to catch my breath and get my composure back, before seating myself on a fallen log. Desperately, I lean my elbows on my knees and bury my hands in my hair, pulling some of it out of the braids. They wait for and expect explanations that I don't quite know how to give them. I am just trying to collect myself.
''Okay, what the hell was that?!'' Sean demands. I look up. His hands are on his hips, the way Wick would stand sometimes when he's outraged by Raven. Dwyght has a lot more calm to him, surprisingly having more trust in me than I think I've earned in only a couple of days. Monroe, on the other hand, is looking at me like she thinks she knows what's going on, but isn't certain.
''He can't come with us,'' I say, so calmly and quietly, I almost surprise myself. I am suddenly so exhausted.
''What are you talking about?!'' Sean demands still, ''You don't get to decide who gets to come and who doesn't! You better have a damn good reason-!''
''That man,'' I find my voice again, as loud as it can get short of shouting, ''Is a danger to everyone. Better go around your camp and ask the women if they have anything to share about Frank Nichols because I'm pretty sure his hands have been places they weren't supposed to-''
''What are you even-,'' Sean's face literally convulses in a way that shows everything is completely incomprehensible to him right now.
''I'm telling you he's fucking dangerous!''
''Was he...?'' Monroe trails off, wanting a confirmation from me, but daring not ask fully. I only nod, knowing what she means. She knows the story, everyone back in the Skybox knew at least a version. She nods back in understanding, and doesn't say anything else.
''Well, shit,'' Dwyght utters. He's probably believed it's all a lie too before he just saw me try to squeeze the life out of the man. If Nichols hadn't truly tried what he'd tried, I wouldn't have been so honestly eager to kill him. If that wasn't a convincer, nothing would ever be. After the whole scandal, a lot of people believed my side of the story, but most stood by with the story of the verdict. In the eyes of many, my story was fabricated and I was nothing but a psycho little delinquent that tried to kill an honest guard that probably just caught me stealing and tried to do his job. I couldn't blame the people, honestly. The way they covered up things on the Ark would have fooled anyone.
''Hello?'' Sean waves a hand, ''Anyone care to bloody explain?''
''I'm surprised the whole Ark doesn't know,'' I mutter, staring at the ground, elbows back on my knees, hands clasped, knuckles bloody. Tired.
When I set out a couple of days ago I never in a million years thought I'd find this. I never really considered the option of seeing this man ever again.
''Like two years ago or something, Nichols was involved in a scandal,'' Monroe relays the story, ''No one stopped talking about it for like a week straight.''
''Oh yeah, I remember. When that girl accused him of...? Oh yeah, it was everywhere! He could have lost his- Oh.''
He probably never thought it true before either, but now he's at a crossroads. I watch his face change from realization to genuine concern. He's had this man among them all this time with all the children after all. If what I'm saying is true - which in his mind now, it likely is - the responsibility would be on his hands too. He has a sort of a role around camp, that much is obvious.
''I can't bring him back to a camp full of women and girls and boys and I don't care how respected he still is or who the fuck believes him - this is not the Ark, and the Council's decision can kiss my ass. I did my time in the Skybox, doesn't matter; but down here we're not helpless at the hands of Thelonius Jaha. If he can't get his punishment for what he tried to do to me, at least keep him away before he tries to harm someone else. We've made a home for ourselves, you really want this man sleeping among us?''
''You're right,'' Monroe says, ''And if it were up to me I'd let you go strangle him right now and keep watch while you do it. But it's not, T. And it's not up to you either.''
I look up to meet her face. The deep creases between her brows speak volumes of just how bad she feels about the way things are, but she knows she's unfortunately right. And I know she's right as well. I hate it, but I know it.
''Like you said, we're no longer helpless at the hands of Jaha,'' she adds, ''The people get to decide now, not us. And the new Council gets to approve.''
''Even if we were to look the other way and let you... do whatever you think you need to do,'' Dwyght adds reasonably, ''A lot of people witnessed what just happened.''
I understand. If I killed Nichols, they'd know it was me, and maybe I'd be compromised. Monroe and Dwyght would surely stand by my side, but would it be enough, if the people turned against me? And would the Council clear me of it, since I acted on my own? Everyone was pardoned for everything back on the Ark the moment they hit the Ground. Would my actions be a crime?
Too many questions I can't deal with at the moment, but I know what I have to do.
''I want eyes on him at all times,'' I say, ''Once we're home I'm making a case against him at the Council. Abby will deal with him.''
I trust Abby. She's the one that stood by me when the whole thing happened. I trust she'll know best what to do, even though I know she'll probably clear him of everything. That doesn't mean she won't have eyes on him and hands ready to snatch him at the first sign of a misconduct.
Yeah, I trust her.
''I'll make sure he's supervised,'' Sean adds with a stern nod, before walking away.
We just can't catch a break.
*
It has taken way too long for all of us to get off the plateau, and adding that to the whole mess I caused and the commotion, we've lost a good chunk of the day. It's already sundown once we cover the first few miles, and we're moving much slower, just as I assumed. Just like the way we came, we barely use a couple of hours to rest the first night, and press on under the light of our torches.
The second night, I have to let them sleep more. There are children among us, after all. We have three smaller fires crackling for each of the smaller groups we've separated in to sleep under the trees. Frank Nichols is all the way across, as far away from me as he can be. Ringer is always by his side, like a leech. I appreciate that beyond what words can say; I need one of our people on him instead of trusting Sean with the matter blindly. I try not to look their way though. I'm afraid I'll lose all control the next time I see that face. For the remainder of our trip, he seems to keep away from me as well, which makes him smarter than he seems.
My dad will kill him. It had dawned on me long ago, but now it's echoing in my head. Where I resisted, dad wouldn't, and then he'd pay for it. And if dad doesn't kill him, Bellamy will, once he puts it together. Honestly, maybe even Murphy will snap and risk earning himself the punishment. I can't think about any of that right now though. I simply can't believe I am actually bringing this man back to camp. I am putting people in jeopardy. I should have said fuck it all and taken the matters into my own hands. But I know I can't now. And as ridiculous as it is, we have bigger things to think about. We've faced greater dangers and would face greater dangers still. I have to keep that perspective.
''You did good here,'' Monroe says as we watch the flames dance, ''At least fifteen more guns. It makes a difference.''
''Yeah.''
''Now we can get our friends out. With Grounder numbers we could level that mountain.''
''And if they don't give us back our people, we're gonna,'' I give her a smile. I don't feel like smiling. Finn died for an alliance that stands on fragile legs, an alliance we depend on to get our friends back. Monty and Nathan and Jasper and Harper and Fox and almost everyone I've ever known on this God forsaken Earth was taken away from me and the belief that they are still alive stands on legs just as fragile, but we have to rely on that as well. Nothing is certain, and nothing is alright. Thinking about so many people on top of Finn's death is just too much to handle. But we have to.
''Well, combine Monty's genius and Miller's anger and they might level that mountain themselves,'' Monroe smirks. I smile at the thought - I do trust in their abilities to take care of themselves. But they are outnumbered, so it hardly matters.
''That mountain,'' Sean speaks after a while, sprawled on the ground with hands below his head - I've told him the whole Mount Weather story in short and he's had a hard time understanding it all, ''Is shelter. Sealed off, right? Which means it's radiation proof. You already said they can't leave it without hazmat suits.''
''Yeah.''
''Then why not just blow open the doors and let them roast?''
''There's levels on the inside, airlocks,'' Monroe replies, ''You blow the outer doors open you'll just contaminate the upper level, not the whole thing.''
''That's where the army comes in though, right?'' I suggest, ''Open the door, you can storm the whole place.''
''Well that's one way of doing it,'' Sean says, stretching a bit, ''With a lot of people dying.''
''And what would be your plan then?'' I cross my arms with a smile, amused. The three of us are the only ones awake in our corner, now apparently dishing out our own military plans like it's usual mindless chatter before sleep.
''Get someone to their control room, get all the doors open,'' he suggests.
''That easy, huh.''
Sean shrugs in reply. I realize now, in his leisurely state and under the flickering lights of the fire, that he's really handsome. Boyish, with a cute, mischievous smile and pretty teeth, and blue eyes and short dirty blonde hair, still neatly cropped. He's the complete opposite of Bellamy, but just as attractive in his own right.
''Well, we don't know the plan yet,'' I say, making myself comfortable on my jacket on the ground, ''So it's no use.''
''I don't care what it is,'' I can hear Monroe utter, ''I just wanna do it already.''
*
That night I dream of Nathan Miller.
We were defending the Drop-Ship side by side, just like we once did, but not from the Grounders. I never really saw the enemy out in the distance and thick morning fog, but I knew it was the Mountain Men. We were shooting at ghosts, but I knew they were closing in on us, because I could hear more and more bullets whizzing past us, and it was becoming worse by the second. Panic rose in me and kept rising and bubbling up until I could hardly breathe properly; it buzzed like electricity throughout the rest of the camp stright from me. Jasper was thrown back from the other post, the bullet in his shoulder slamming so hard it made him topple over backwards. And all too soon he wasn't the only one, and Clarke was nowhere to be found. No one could help the wounded falling one by one, dying one by one.
Miller grabbed my wrist as we tore off frantically to try and find her, but it was Bellamy who found us instead, shouting that Clarke was gone to get Lexa, to get help, to save us. I cried out that she wasn't coming, we were dying, no one was coming to help. There was so much noise and so many people falling. Bellamy said he was going after her himself, stepped out of the camp and right into that fog like it was nothing. I ran after despite Miller trying to stop me, and as I stepped into that fog I couldn't see anything through, I knew - somehow I just did - that no bullet could harm me anymore. Not here. Bellamy and I passed through the fog unscathed.
On the other side of the fog lay a field, a clearing without a tree in sight. There was cut wood prepared for a fire in the middle, and I could see Clarke and Lexa standing next to it, looking at it like they could will it into flames. No Grounders. I felt the sudden need to take Bellamy's hand, because all of this felt deeply wrong for some reason. Where were the Grounders? Where was the help? Now it was like my people dying back in that Drop-Ship was a barely lingering and fading memory from some past life though. Like it belonged to a different dream, a different reality, a different universe. All I knew and could remember was that we were in a need, and we were here, desperate. But something was wrong.
Bellamy's hand. No. Irrationally, I felt like if I did take his hand, that would start making bad things happen - like the world would just decide to give me a reason to hold onto his hand and seek comfort. Like I held control over events in the palm of my sweaty hand.
Carefully, we stepped forward, unsure step after unsure step, until we approached them close enough to see Finn's body on top of the lumber. Before I could say anything, before I could cry out, Clarke and Lexa had torches in their hands. They brought them down, and Finn was engulfed in flames that seemed to lick at the sky, and I wake with a start and a cry and drenched in sweat.
Monroe wakes right after, grabbing her rifle immediately, instinctively, like I've called her into battle. The two guards already awake that stand watch give me odd looks.
''It's nothing,'' I breathe, ''Sorry. Get back to sleep.''
''You okay?'' Monroe asks, a crease between her eyebrows as she scans my face with worry.
''Yeah,'' I nod, ''Go back to sleep, we'll be up soon enough.''
*
The rest of the trip back takes longer, just as I expected. I am under a lot more pressure to keep the route as safe as possible, now that I know we have children among us. Five kids, to be exact. One of them, a girl named Tessa, has somehow managed to twist an ankle in between two rocks in the ground. That stops us for an additional hour and slows us a bit further on. Not to mention their persistent distrust for the Grounders and eyeing the woods like they'll pop out any second. I can't blame them. Honestly, after everything that's happened to us, I think about how smart it is to trust them myself. Maybe that's what my subconscious was trying to tell me in that exhausting, stupid dream. But I know I have to trust them, for Finn's sake. I owe his death that.
I know I have to ease the people if I want us to get back any time soon, so just to pacify the folks I take Dwyght and me to the van, marching up ahead and scouting. Not that we have anything to scout for, but it makes the civilians feel safer. And it works, more or less.
I try not to think about Nichols and how I'll have to present everything to everyone back home, and I also try not to think about the possible plan they might have come up with while I've been gone. It's all-consuming, so better to not think about it at all.
''Can you see them?'' I ask Dwyght, as he turns around to check on our group like he's been doing every now and then. We don't want to lose them by going too far ahead, especially when they trust me most to navigate their way around these woods.
''Yeah, they're behind us,'' he cranes his neck, before turning back to me, ''Earth skills, huh.''
''You don't really realize how useless most of those classes are until you step foot on Earth,'' I shake my head at the thought, ''I nailed every single one back on the Ark. And down here, I could barely use the knowledge properly. It's insane, how much we were never prepared for this.''
''Well, you seem better prepared than most, kiddo,'' Dwyght adjusts his rifle, ''I'd bet on you.''
I chuckle, an honest, whole-hearted laugh. I am better at surviving than I used to be, which is the only natural thing, but I still think I'm a way off from being prepared. Still, it cheers me up for a moment, Dwyght's weird compliment and honesty.
But then Finn hits me again. And everything and everyone else in retrospective, all to Murphy's hanging and finding Wells dead. That seems another lifetime now, but it makes me think that if I'd been any better prepared, a lot of things wouldn't have happened, and a lot of people might still be alive.
That's stupid, of course. There's no way of knowing, and even so, it's stupid to put all that on my shoulders. Our shoulders. Maybe we could have done better, but we'll never get to try again.
''You trust this alliance?'' Dwyght asks, and I have to look up to meet his eyes - my head reaches up to his shoulders, and I've never exactly been on the short side either.
''I have to. For Finn.''
''Sorry about that, kiddo.''
''Yeah, we all are.''
''It better work then,'' he says, ''Especially with these people we have in tow right now.''
''Don't worry about the Grounders,'' I say, ''If you're gonna worry, worry about their outlaws.''
He tenses at that, seems to clutch his rifle a bit tighter.
''Relax, Dwyght,'' I offer a smile, ''We came this way and we barely encountered a deer, remember?''
That doesn't mean much, but it seems to help when I say it. Of course, outlaws could have nested around here in the meantime. But I don't think there would be anyone in the woods so far west, and if there is - well, that's why we're scouting. Also, if there were any bandit camps, we'd probably outnumber them. I just don't like the idea of killing in front of these people, these children.
*
It happens at sundown, when the orange disc still looms a bit up above the mountain peeks, and the rays still spill over the lands like a golden coat. There isn't a cloud in the sky, no chance of bad weather stopping or slowing us, or soaking our health out of us. Since the moment we stepped out of the gates that day up until now, it's all just seemed to good. If there is a God, he's been favoring us.
Until now.
At first I can only hear it - that sound. It's familiar, but in that one instant, I just can't put a finger on it. It sounds like some sort of tribal cries, echoing through the woods, but it doesn't sound like Grounders. We can't dwell on it though. Hands shaky on the guns and eyes wide, Dwyght and I run back to the group, realizing the sound is coming from behind, where our people follow.
Reapers. Six or seven of them; I can't count in all that insanity. The people have clustered together, surrounded by the guards with weapons trained at what looks like monsters to them. A child is crying, or more of them. The Reapers aren't attacking, like they want to taunt and play with their prey a little bit first. I don't think they understand the danger of the guns pointed at them. I don't think they're capable of understanding the concept. But I remember one of the terms of our truce with the Grounders. And as crazy as I sound, I shout:
''Don't shoot!''
Heads turn to me incredulously, Dwyght's included as he stands right next to me. They are surrounded, and they can't shoot?
The Reapers have turned toward us too. One of them - particularly ugly - tilts his head in what can be discerned as amusement, looking at me.
''Monroe, you get them back,'' I say, voice a bit shaky with the sudden rush of adrenaline. Monroe looks terrified, but she only nods, understanding.
''Natasha-?'' I can hear Sean's voice.
''What are you doing?'' Dwyght demands.
''I hope you're a runner,'' I say, before shooting at the sky.
It works like magic. The Reapers are after us, running and snarling like mad, as Dwyght and I sprint through the trees and across the rocks and roots that want nothing more than to trip us over and into our deaths.