When Songbirds Fly | Bellamy Blake

Chapter Eight: Contents Under Pressure

T/W// Injury (not very graphic), seizure, torture, self harm

—

Strong winds rage and howl, all but tearing the very walls of the Dropship away. The rain lashes down on us from all sides, pelting down on the mud and damaged tents that haven't been recovered yet. It's not the only thing carried by the wind. Along with it, I can feel the dread building up, as if the storm is some kind of warning to us. Things are about to get a lot worse.

Most of us are now hidden in the Dropship, hoping that the storm will pass soon. I sit on a crate next to Finn, my hand tightly clasped onto his. By this point, I've tuned out Raven's desperate calls into the radio. All I can think about is his survival, because it could have easily been me lying there in his place.

'Raven, are you there? '

Both Clarke and I freeze when we hear the voice coming through the radio speakers. Quickly snatching up the microphone, she sighs in relief. 'Mom? Mom, it's me.'

'Clarke? '

'Mom, I need your help. One of our people was stabbed by a Grounder.'

For a moment, there's no reply.

'Clarke, this is the Chancellor. Are you saying there are survivors on the ground? '

Nodding hurriedly, her eyes meet mine. After everything we've been through, it has been good to hear Abby's voice again, even if just for a few moments.

'Yes, the Earth is survivable. We're not alone.'

A soft groan is only just audible beside me. I raise my head to shout to her, 'Clarke, we need to hurry this up.'

'Mom, he's dying. The knife's still in his chest.'

'Okay, patch me through to medical.'

'Clarke, is my son with you? '

She stops just beside me, lowering her gaze. She's lost for words. I understand why. How can you possibly tell someone that their child is gone? 'I'm so sorry,' she finally says, 'Wells is— Wells is dead.'

Silence falls once more. I try to give Clarke a reassuring smile but nothing can help all of the grief that has suddenly come rushing back to her.

—

Gesturing for me to get up, Clarke nods to the tap that I'd managed to rig up using a large water bottle from the "Art Supply Store" and a knife. 'Wren, wash your hands and make sure they're as clean as possible. I'm gonna need some help on this.'

'Wren's there with you? '

I smile awkwardly in the direction of the radio, 'Hey, Abbs.'

'Hello. Okay, I'm gonna walk you through this step by step —' The winds pick up and her voice is reduced to static. '—Give me five— To Medical— Medic—'

'What?'

I glance up at Raven as she shakes the radio, 'What's wrong?'

'It's not the radio, it's the storm.'

The curtains covering the entrance fly open and Octavia stumbles in, two flasks held tightly in her rain-soaked hands. Clarke leans over to open one of them and instantly recoils, 'Ugh. Monty's moonshine?'

The girl shrugs, 'Pretty sure no germ can survive it.'

Another loud boom echoes overhead, followed by a low rumbling. 'The storm's getting worse. Monroe, close the doors.'