Experiment of Fate ~ A Bellamy Blake story

Chapter 3 - Mount Weather

Chapter: The Rescue of Isla

The hum of the Mountain echoed in Bellamy's ears as he made his way through the dimly lit corridors, still wearing the guard uniform that had granted him access to the inner workings of Mount Weather. Every step was calculated; every glance over his shoulder was a reminder that his life hung on the thin thread of secrecy. The stakes were higher than ever—his friends were still trapped, held prisoner by those who sought to bleed them dry for their marrow. His heart pounded in his chest as he moved closer to his goal: saving them all.

Maya had been a godsend. She risked everything to help him, guiding him through restricted sections where his presence alone could get him killed. But today, she'd shared a piece of information that rattled Bellamy to his core.

"They have a girl," Maya had whispered as they hid in a dark corner. "In one of the most restricted sections. They test on her the most. She's been in there for years, Bellamy."

A girl. His mind reeled at the thought of someone suffering worse than what his friends were going through. He had to help her. But right now, he had to focus on the task at hand—getting to the control room and stopping Cage before it was too late.

In the control room, Clarke paced nervously while Monty worked furiously at the terminal. Bellamy joined them, the air thick with tension. Clarke's eyes burned with determination, but beneath that steely gaze, Bellamy could see the flicker of fear. She was running out of time. They all were.

The radio crackled, and Cage's voice filled the room, venomous and smug.

"You're making a mistake, Clarke. But maybe it's time I show you something. Look up Project 0."

Bellamy exchanged a glance with Clarke, his brow furrowed. "What the hell is Project 0?" he muttered.

Monty's fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up the file. The screen filled with a horrifying series of videos—grainy, brutal footage of a girl, no older than a teenager, enduring unimaginable torture. The sound of bone marrow extractions, her screams echoing through the room, the lashings, the blood transfusions. Bellamy clenched his fists as they watched the girl being whipped over and over again, her small frame shuddering with each blow. This must be the girl Maya spoke about.

Clarke's face had gone pale. Her eyes widened in disbelief as Cage's voice cut through the footage.

"Hey, your sister isn't looking too good, is she, Clarke?"

Clarke's breath caught in her throat. Her sister. Isla.

"Go to camera 67," Cage taunted. "Password: Isla."

Monty entered the command, and the feed switched to a live camera. There, chained to a bed, was a small, fragile girl, her body covered in bruises and blood. Her red-blonde hair hung limply around her face, and her thin, broken frame was clad only in a white bra and shorts, the starkness of her injuries even more jarring against her pale skin.

Bellamy felt his heart drop. Clarke stood frozen, her hand over her mouth as she stared at the screen. Isla. Her twin sister, whom she had believed dead for over a decade. The girl who had endured five years of torture at the hands of the Mountain Men.

"You want to save her, don't you, Clarke?" Cage's voice was a sickening whisper. "But if you don't act soon, she's going to die. Just like your friends."

At that moment, a new wave of horror struck them as they saw Raven being dragged off a metal table, her body limp, replaced by Abby. The drilling began, Abby's screams piercing the room—not just in pain, but screaming for Isla, her daughter she abandoned years ago.

Clarke's resolve hardened, tears brimming in her eyes as she turned to Monty. "I need you to irradiate Level 5," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Bellamy grabbed her arm, panic and anger flooding him. "Clarke, the people who helped us—they'll all die. The children—"

"I have to save them," Clarke said, the tears now streaming down her face. "I have to save my mom. My sister."

Monty finished the sequence and looked up at them, his finger hovering over the lever. "All you have to do is pull it."

Clarke stared at the lever, the weight of her choice bearing down on her. Bellamy could see the torment in her eyes, the impossible decision she was being forced to make. His mind raced to Octavia—his sister. And then he looked at the screen again, at Isla, the girl who had been trapped in hell for so long.

He couldn't let this go on. He couldn't let his sister suffer, and he couldn't let Clarke's sister die. Together, Bellamy and Clarke pushed the lever down.

The cameras flickered, showing the people on Level 5 beginning to cough and choke as their skin turned red, welts forming as they succumbed to the irradiated air. Bellamy and Clarke didn't wait to watch the aftermath. They ran, racing through the Mountain's labyrinth of corridors, freeing their people and searching for Isla.

Monty's voice crackled over the radio. "I think she's near the Grounder lockup."

Bellamy, Clarke, and Octavia split up, each taking different hallways in their desperate search. Octavia's voice rang out from a distant corridor. "I think I found it!"

Bellamy and Clarke sprinted toward her voice, finding a metal door with "Restricted Experiment" scrawled across it. Monty unlocked the door remotely, and as it swung open, Clarke's heart broke all over again.

There, in the middle of the small room, sat Isla. She didn't even look up as they entered. She simply extended her arms, resigned to more transfusions. Her body was gaunt, the bones visible beneath her bruised skin, her eyes hollow from years of starvation and dehydration.

Clarke's voice trembled as she knelt beside her sister. "Isla, it's me. Your sister. Clarke."

Isla finally looked up, her eyes dull, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "My sister is in space," she whispered, her voice raspy from lack of use. "She can't be here."

Clarke's heart shattered. "I'm here to save you," she promised, reaching out to undo the chains that bound Isla to the bed.

Bellamy stood in the doorway, watching, his own heart heavy as he thought of Octavia. This could've been her. It could've been anyone they loved.

Clarke helped Isla to her feet, but her sister's legs gave out beneath her. Octavia rushed forward, gently lifting the fragile girl. "Is it okay if my brother and I help you walk?" she asked softly.

Isla nodded weakly, her green eyes glistening with unshed tears as they began their slow journey out of the room—the place that had been her prison for the past five years. As they passed through the door, Isla looked back one last time before whispering, "I'll never be locked up again."

With that, they made their way to freedom.