Silent Moments: Book One (The 100)

Chapter 24

The entire camp had congregated at the wreckage site of the Exodus ship, drawn by a mixture of dread and curiosity. It was a moonless night, the darkness only occasionally pierced by the feeble glow of handheld torches, lending an eerie ambiance to the scene. Just hours ago, following the disastrous meeting's unraveling, a ship had been hastily launched from the Ark. Its intended passenger was Abby, their respected healer and leader. Yet, fate had dealt them a cruel hand, as the vessel plummeted from the sky, crashing with earth-shattering force deep within the heart of the impenetrable forest.

The aftermath was a chilling sight that befitted a dystopian nightmare. The once-sleek spaceship lay in tatters, its metal skin torn asunder, and its structural integrity shattered. Shrapnel, both large and small, was strewn across the forest floor, like a metallic graveyard of dreams. Twisted and broken components, both human and mechanical, bore witness to the catastrophic collision. The camp members gathered around, their breaths visible in the frigid night air. They moved cautiously through the wreckage, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of fallen leaves. The air was heavy with the acrid scent of burnt metal and the faint echoes of sirens from the ship's failing systems that had screamed out in its final moments.

They illuminated the grim tableau with flickering torchlight, revealing twisted metal beams, sparking wires, and the occasional flicker of a malfunctioning control panel. The once-promising vessel now lay in ruins, a stark contrast to the hope and optimism it had carried from the Ark. As they surveyed the wreckage, a somber silence enveloped the group. The gravity of the situation hung heavily in the air, a palpable tension that weighed on everyone's minds. They grappled with the uncertainty of Abby's fate, and the harsh reality of their precarious existence in this untamed and unforgiving wilderness. Each rustling leaf, every creaking piece of metal, was a stark reminder that their journey on this new, unforgiving Earth was far from over.

"Clarke shouldn't be out here," I sighed, my breath visible in the crisp air, my concern for her etched on my face.

"Neither should you," Finn countered, his eyes searching mine for reassurance.

"Their mom was on the ship. They're looking for answers. If you want to help them, find me the black box, hard drives—anything that will explain why the ship crashed," Raven's voice was tinged with a mix of frustration and determination as she directed her orders at Finn, her eyes locked onto his.

"She wasn't my mother. I don't know how many times I have to say it," I snapped back, my irritation seeping through, and I turned away to mask my emotions.

Clarke, meanwhile, appeared lost amid the wreckage, her normally strong demeanor wavering. I couldn't help but feel sympathy for her. I wasn't in the best emotional state either, but Abby was Clarke's mom, and the weight of her loss bore heavily on her shoulders. Abby was my mother too, biologically, but Clarke had been raised by her. Abby and I hadn't shared a close relationship, and now we'd never get the chance to mend it.

"Stay sharp!" Bellamy's commanding voice shattered the solemn silence. "Grounder retaliation is coming for what happened on the bridge. It's just a matter of when."

"Can you blame them?" Finn asked, his tone contemplative, as he gazed out into the darkness beyond.

"No. I blame Kegan," Bellamy responded, his words sharp, his gaze briefly shifting toward me.

"Maybe if you didn't bring guns—" I began, attempting to defend my actions, but my words were swiftly cut off by Raven.

"If we didn't bring guns, we would all be dead," Raven interrupted, her tone resolute and unwavering, her eyes locked on Bellamy.

"Why they're coming doesn't matter anymore!" Bellamy's voice remained stern, and he continued, "It's our job to be ready when they do. We're on our own now."