After the End [ The 100 ]

22. Two heads are better than one

day trip

[eiden]

"Clarke? Somebody?"

A voice calls from the radio. Well, it's a bit more than a radio now. Raven was able to do something about the camera and screen that came with it. The parts are dried out, but the camera hasn't been able to pick up the Ark's signal.

Hours ago, Abby told us they were bringing somebody in so we could communicate face-to-face rather than hearing each other's voices. Looks like she's here.

I almost think I recognize the female voice, but I continue pulling back on the heavy bowstring. My eyes glance at the entrance of the tent since Clarke probably is with the grounder.

"This is Brook Mathers. Calling from Ark station. Can I get an affirmative for visuals?"

What the hell? I turn and go over to the radio. "Brook?" I ask. Surprise laces my voice. But I have to do something to at least let her know we can hear each other. "This- it's Eiden Gray. I can hear you, I can't see you."

"Oh. Hi, Eiden. Heard what happened. You are the impulsive type." The boredom in her voice is still the same even a year later. Her focus changes in an instant. "Now crank that long one back and forth a little," she instructs whatever room she's in.

The video statics, grey and black lines shaking across the screen. Until finally, Brook's image pops up. I wait until she's done talking to tell her. "Looks like your project worked."

I remember it from over a year ago when we first met. Her trade class that doubled as an early worksite.

She barely glances up. "Yep. Hey, we've got visuals," she shouts to the... council room.

Her straight black hair's still chin length. Engineer goggles still pushing that hair back. And she still wears that grungey muscle tee, graphics along with the letters "ACDC" fading. Like I remember, she's hunched over her work.

Then she looks back at me. "Still giving me something pretty to look at." Her words are slow, voice flat. "Mr. Kane, you're all set. Bye, Eiden. You guys be safe." Her tone's unfeeling as always. I don't know how I ever found her lack of emotion attractive.

"O-okay?" I ask, but then just like that she's gone. A man comes into view without giving me time to process it all. "Hi," I greet him. A man who works closely with my stepfather, one who worked above my biological father.

He quickly frowns. "Hello. Where's Clarke? The Chancellor wants to speak. She should be here for this too."

I'm invited? Frankly after we were all ambushed in the woods I've felt an even stronger need to prepare. To get the others ready, teach them how to fight, how to defend themselves. Though, I'm still pretty whipped up, hands wrapped and scarred, wrist broken.

I don't dwell on that and instead nod, before turning to the entrance.

I run to the drop ship, and when I reach the top, Clarke's standing in her long sleeve blue tee, in front of the grounder. She turns her head at the squeaking of the hatch above my fist. Octavia, head low and angry, takes her place when Clarke comes over.

She helps me with the hatch, pulling it up. "Hey," she says and makes room for me to come in.

I don't though, and my legs are the only thing supporting me on the ladder, because my arms are turning to jelly. Smiling, I say "Hi." Then, "It's the council. They want to talk to us."