THE ARK'S LAST NIGHTBLOOD | LEXA KOM TRIKRU

F O U R

THE LOUD NIGHT grew silent fast. The chirps and hums of birds and insects soon became nonexistent compared to the other sleepless nights on the ground. Yet these animals knew something that those on the ground didn't. There was a reason why they were so quiet tonight, almost like a premonition.

It reminded me of a story Maron had once told me about the time her grandmother, Yara, had seen the end of the world. It used to be one of my favorite stories when I was young.

Yara was only nineteen years of age when she saw the large streak of blue fly across the sky. From what I remember, the missile had hit somewhere called Arkansas first. Maron had told me that there were swarms upon swarms of birds that flew away from the area before the missile hit. She had described it as a giant shadow of black feathers which blocked the starry night's view. From the horizon, Yara was able to see multiple streaks of fast-moving death.

Yara was some super young inventor with like 2 PhDs in hand. Maron had told me that she was known for developing self-sustainable artificial photosynthesis pods. This allegedly earned her a one-way ticket on the Ark. Once Yara saw the birds, she left as quickly as she could. She had driven from a place by the name of Lake Charles to some space station in Texas. Of course, knowing who she was, they let her in with ease but she had also gained a front-row seat to witness pure destruction.

She had watched as the world she took for granted was destroyed, and with every breath, every tear that left her eyes she imagined all of history—the Paleozoic era of the invertebrates, the Mesozoic era of the dinosaurs, and the Cenozoic era of the now— to be swallowed up and erased from existence.

The quietness of the forest was one of the reasons why I was so careful with my steps, being extra cautious not to make much noise. It had only been a few hours since Bellamy and Clarke recommended a buddy system when out of the camp walls. It looked as stupid as it sounded, so of course, I ignored them. And while I was immensely grateful for the five-minute gap in the shift switch for guard duty, it wouldn't mean anything for me if I was caught sneaking out.

I was a few hundred feet away from the camp, my spear grasped tightly in my left hand as I continued forward, occasionally blocking long droopy branches with it. The last thing I wanted to do by the end of tonight was to pick pine needles out of my ratty hair.

What a mess that would be!

It was only until I was about a half-mile out that I started to scour the rugged ground for any kind of prints.

All of the delinquents seemed to be blind when it came to fixing problems. When Bellamy claimed there would be a shortage of food, I was positive that not a single teen had a thought in their head on how to fix the situation.

So here I was, fixing the stupid problem out of my own volition, playing nice so they wouldn't suspect anything of my soon-to-be deflection.

It was certainly better than waking up screaming and risking causing a scene...

If I had started wailing in my sleep, not only would I never hear the end of it from the delinquents but they wouldn't ever take their eyes off me. And that would be bad. I NEEDED to be invisible.

My thoughts wondered every which way as I continued my strenuous task. I thought of today's earlier events with Murphy and Charlotte, which led me to Bellamy's authoritative warning, which led me to yet another recollection. The process was constant as one thought led me to another like clockwork.

I kept going through the motions, both mentally and physically, never stopping as I internally wondered how long it'd take to find some stupid tracks.