Silent Moments: Book One (The 100)

Chapter 25

 "No. They are cruel, they are vicious," Murphy replied, his eyes filled with fear as he recounted his harrowing experience with the Grounders, his voice quivering with trauma.

"You want to look vicious," Bellamy snarked, his anger still simmering beneath the surface, his frustration evident in his tone.

"Hey. Knock it off. Whatever this is, spreads through contact," Clarke told him firmly, her authoritative tone demanding compliance with her instructions.

"Kegan! Clarke!" Finn's voice suddenly cut through the tension, as he entered the dropship, his concern evident in his eyes.

"Finn, you shouldn't be here. No one should," I rasped, my voice laced with a mixture of fear and desperation, not wanting him to be exposed to the danger that now surrounded us.

"I heard you were sick," Finn sighed, his worry for me and Clarke palpable as he entered the hazardous zone.

"Clarke, what is this?" Finn asked, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and concern, his eyes scanning the scene for answers.

"I don't know. It's some kind of hemorrhagic fever. We just need to contain it before—" Clarke began explaining, her words interrupted by one of the 100 with the disease, who was now in the throes of a violent seizure.

"Hey, don't touch me. You could get sick. Wash your hands now," Clarke snapped, attempting to prevent anyone from making contact with the afflicted child, her focus on containing the outbreak.

"What's happening to him?" I asked, my voice quivering with fear and uncertainty as I watched the young boy's distress unfold before my eyes.

The child began to vomit up blood, his body convulsing as if something malevolent had taken control of him, the gruesome sight adding to the collective horror that gripped us all.

"I don't know," Clarke admitted, her voice filled with helplessness as she witnessed the horrifying spectacle, her medical expertise rendered useless in the face of this unknown threat.

The boy's convulsions suddenly ceased, and he collapsed lifelessly to the ground, leaving an eerie silence in his wake, a stark reminder of the gravity of their situation.

"Is he—" Bellamy began, his voice heavy with dread, unable to complete the sentence as he gazed upon the lifeless body.

"He's dead," Clarke confirmed with a heavy sigh, her words reflecting the grim reality of the situation that had unfolded before them, her shoulders slumping under the weight of the tragedy.

"Here, alcohol. Hold out your hands," Clarke commanded Finn, her tone steady as she handed him a bottle of alcohol, her focus shifting to containment and prevention, seeking to minimize the spread of the contagion.

"What do we do?" Finn asked her, his voice filled with uncertainty as he tried to process the magnitude of the crisis and the responsibilities that now fell upon them.

"Quarantine. Round up anyone who's had contact with Murphy. Bring them here," she instructed Finn, her tone resolute and authoritative, as she initiated the critical steps needed to control the outbreak.

"And what about everyone they've had contact with?" I questioned, my anxiety growing as I considered the potential spread of the contagion to the wider group.

"Well, we have to start somewhere," Clarke replied, her voice reflecting the grim reality of their situation, her gaze weary but determined as she faced the daunting challenge ahead.

"Conner, who was with you when you found him? Who carried him in?" Clarke asked, shifting her focus to the critical task of identifying those at risk, determined to contain the outbreak and protect the lives of her people.