Silent Moments: Book One (The 100)

Chapter 11

 The urgency and disbelief in Finn's voice shattered the early morning calm. "Kegan, Kegan get up man! Wells is dead, man! You need to get up!" His words were rushed, each one laden with a mixture of shock and urgency that instantly dispelled any remnants of sleep from my mind.

Confusion clouded my thoughts as I tried to process his words. "Wells is what?" I stammered, my voice thick with sleep and disbelief.

Finn's face was etched with horror and urgency as he relayed the grim news. "Wells is dead. We think the Grounders got him. His fingers were cut off. Jasper tripped and saw them," he explained, his voice trembling slightly with the weight of what he was saying.

Before the reality of his words could fully sink in, Clarke's voice, strained and frantic, cut through the air. "Finn, Kegan! Where are you?"

Resigned to the gravity of the situation, I sighed heavily. "Duty awaits," I muttered, slipping my hat over my head and preparing myself mentally for what lay ahead.

Finn and I hastened down the ladder to join Clarke. Her face was a portrait of stress and grief, the loss of Wells casting a shadow over her usually resolute features.

"Hey Keegs, Bellamy wants to see all of us," Clarke said, her voice raspy and heavy with unspoken sorrow. Despite their complex past, it was evident that the years of friendship she shared with Wells still held a profound place in her heart.

We followed Clarke in silence, our footsteps heavy with apprehension, into the tent where Bellamy waited with a grave expression.

"You needed us?" I asked, stepping into the dimly lit tent.

"Uh, yeah. Here, look at this, we found it over by Wells," Bellamy said, extending his hand to show us a crucial piece of evidence.

I took the knife, turning it over in my hands. "It's one of our knives," I observed, a chill running down my spine as the implications became clear.

"That means the Grounders didn't kill Wells. One of us did," Clarke stated, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a hint of shock and betrayal.

Jasper's voice was tinged with fear and confusion. "So there's a murderer in the camp?"

Bellamy's response was grim. "There's more than one murderer in this camp."

Clarke moved to exit the tent, but Bellamy stepped in front of her, blocking her path. "We need to keep this quiet," he insisted, his tone suggesting a strategy rather than concern.

I could see the logic in Bellamy's argument, yet the moral dilemma was palpable. Revealing the truth about Wells' death could send the camp spiraling into chaos and fear.

Clarke, however, was having none of it. "Get out of my way, Bellamy," she growled, her frustration boiling over.

Bellamy persisted, emphasizing the benefits of the community's ignorance. "Look at all we've achieved so far, the wall, the patrols. Thinking the Grounders killed Wells is good for us."

Clarke snapped back, accusing him of manipulating the situation for his own gain. "Good for you, you mean. What, keep people afraid so they'll work for you?"

Bellamy retorted, challenging her plan of action. "Yeah, that's it. The fear of the Grounders is building that wall and what are you going to do, huh? Walk out there and ask the killer to step forward. You don't even know whose knife that is," he argued, his voice rising in frustration.

Just as I was about to step in and mediate, Clarke unveiled a critical piece of evidence. "Oh yeah. JM, John Murphy," she growled, displaying the initials inscribed on the blade. "The people have a right to know."