Silent Moments: Book One (The 100)

Chapter 5

As night fell, the reality of our situation settled in. We needed to find shelter and prepare for the night. As Monty and I ventured into the thick underbrush in search of firewood, the forest around us was alive with the sounds of nature, a stark contrast to the silence of the Ark. The air was fresh, filled with the earthy scent of damp soil and decaying leaves, a reminder of the vibrant ecosystem we were now a part of.

Monty, breaking the comfortable silence between us, ventured a question. "So Kegan, if you don't mind me sharing, how did you end up getting caught?"

The question hung in the air, stirring memories I had long tried to suppress. I took a deep breath, the cool air filling my lungs, as I gathered my thoughts. "Well, it's a bit of a long story," I started, my voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and sorrow.

"I was raised by a couple, Max and Ella Foster. They had lost their own baby, and in their grief, they took me in, an unregistered second child hidden in plain sight. They were brave, doing what my biological parents never dared to do. I grew up knowing I was different, but I never truly understood why until I was older."

I paused, picking up a fallen branch and breaking it into manageable pieces. "My biological father, he always wanted me home. He believed in our family being together, even if it was against the rules. My mother, though, she was more cautious, afraid of the consequences. They had arguments about it, quite a few times."

Monty listened intently, his expression a mix of curiosity and empathy as he gathered his own bundle of wood.

"The thing that blew my cover was, ironically, getting sick," I continued. "I needed medicine, but to get it, I had to be scanned. And, well, I didn't have a chip because I wasn't born in the medical unit. When they tried to scan me and nothing came up, that was it. My secret was out."

I could feel the weight of the past pressing down on me as I recounted the events. "They spared the Griffins, Clarke's family, because of their status. But my adoptive parents, they weren't so lucky. They were floated for what they did. My biological father didn't last much longer after that."

Monty was silent for a moment, processing my story. "That is quite the story," he finally said, his voice a mixture of awe and sympathy.

We made our way back to the camp, the weight of my past momentarily lifted as we shared a few jokes. The night around us was alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, a reminder of the unseen world that surrounded us. We returned to camp with our gathered firewood, finding Jasper tending to Octavia, and Clarke and Finn having returned with fresh water. As we sat around the newly kindled fire, sipping the water, I felt its refreshing coolness cascade through my body, a small pleasure in our harsh new reality. The night brought dreams filled with 'what ifs' – reflections on how different life could have been if my parents had made different choices. The next morning, Clarke's voice, laced with mock threat, woke me. "Wake up, Kegan Griffin, or I'll dump water on you!"

"I'm up, I'm up," I yawned, insisting on my adopted name, "It's Foster, not Griffin."

We gathered by the river, where Jasper and Finn were setting up a vine rope to swing across, avoiding the dangers lurking in the water. Clarke urged Finn to go first, but Jasper, still riding the high of his earlier heroism, volunteered. As Jasper swung across the river, landing with a thud but quickly recovering, we cheered his bravery. But our celebration was cut short when he picked up a sign that read 'Mt. Weather.'

"Guys, we made it!" Jasper shouted triumphantly from the other side.

As Clarke prepared to swing across, Jasper, still holding the sign, cheered her on. But in a horrifying turn of events, something long and fast – an arrow or a spear – flew over our heads and impaled Jasper.

"Jasper!" I yelled in disbelief.

"J-J-Jasper!" Clarke stuttered, her voice laced with shock.

Finn sprang into action, pulling Clarke behind him. "Come on, we need to get down there," he urged, his voice a mix of urgency and concern.

Huddled behind a large rock, its surface cold and damp to the touch, Clarke, Finn, and Octavia exchanged tense glances. Monty and I were pressed tightly behind a smaller rock nearby, its uneven surface digging into our backs. The forest around us was eerily silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze, heightening our sense of apprehension.

"We're not alone," Clarke murmured, her voice barely audible over the sound of our labored breathing. The fear in her eyes was palpable, reflecting the danger we all felt looming in the shadows.

I couldn't help but let out a sarcastic, "No shit," trying to mask my own rising panic with bravado.

Finn shot me a sharp look, his expression stern. "Not the time, Kegan," he hissed, his gaze darting back and forth, scanning the dense foliage for any sign of movement.

Seizing a moment when the forest seemed quieter, we made our move. Leaping out from our cover, we sprinted through the underbrush. Our feet pounded against the soft, loamy earth, kicking up leaves and twigs. I was keeping pace with Monty and Octavia, while Clarke and Finn lagged slightly behind, their footsteps echoing ours. The forest was a blur of green and brown as we hurtled over obstacles. Fallen trees barred our path, their bark mossy and slick, while rocks jutted out like jagged teeth from the earth. Each leap and dodge sent shots of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Suddenly, Monty tripped, his body crashing to the ground with a thud. Octavia and I reached down, our hands gripping his arms in an attempt to pull him back to his feet.

"Come on, Monty, we have to keep moving," I urged, my voice laced with urgency.

"Get up, Monty," Octavia wheezed, her breath ragged from the relentless pace.

But Monty remained still, his body rigid with shock. His eyes were wide, fixated on something on the ground. It took me a moment to see what had caught his attention – the forest floor was littered with bones. Human skulls and ribcages, scattered haphazardly, bleached white and eerily pristine against the dark soil.

"Who are they?" I whispered, a cold shiver running down my spine as I took in the grim scene.

Clarke, her face ghostly pale, picked up a misshapen skull from the bone-strewn ground. She turned it over in her hands, her fingers tracing its contours. "What are they?" she murmured, her voice tinged with both fear and a scientist's curiosity. Octavia's body trembled, her voice quivering as she summed up the horror of our discovery. "We are so screwed," she muttered, her eyes darting nervously around the shadowy forest. The ominous silence of the woods, once a peaceful contrast to the mechanical hum of the Ark, now felt threatening, as if the trees themselves were watching us, hiding secrets and dangers in their depths.