T O O F A R G O N E
[ B O O K O N E ]
❛ and i can feel my
every breath unfold. ❜
Ninety-seven years after the destruction of a nuclear war that wiped out almost the entire human race, survivors are faced with yet another...
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NIGHT HAD FALLEN, darkness collapsing around them like a cold blanket. The stars were clearly visible in the sky, twinkling in an informal pattern. The moon glistened in the gloomy hours of the dark, giving them some sort of source of light. Various campfires were burning, scattered about the crash site, the surrounding area illuminated by the flashing flames. Many delinquents were chuckling to themselves or joking around with one another. Some were making out, wanting nothing more to tear each other's clothes off right out in the open. And others, like Iris and Rosalie, were just there. Simply sitting in a casual position in front of the drop-ship as they watched everyone with wide eyes.
Amidst all the harmless teenager scenes played before the two, one group of cynical criminals was in action nearby. Bellamy Blake, the fake guardsman, the rebel leader, the narcissist, was gathering up troops. He was on his way to creating a dominating team of warriors to help his mission of destroying all of mankind left upon the Ark. And his closest allies, John Murphy and Kol Adams, were both on board to whatever terrible plan he had cooked up.
The three, along with others, were standing by a large campfire. The hues of orange and red fading into the darkened sky. John Murphy was the lead, taking action. He had a long metal bar held in his hand, the arm of a girl in the other. He was prying off her wristband; contributing to the death of everyone left aboard their previous home. And once the band was finally snapped off, the crowd around them erupted into cheers and hollers.
"What's going on?" Wells questioned, limping as he emerged from the drop ship's entrance.
Iris looked up at the boy, her expression remaining the same. If she were anyone else, looking up at the son of the Chancellor would create a pit of disgust in the depth of her heart — it did, she just chose to ignore it. But she wasn't like the others. She didn't want to hate, and even if she did, she would never say it out loud. Hate was a strong word. She would only say it if she really meant it.
"They're trying to kill us all." Rosalie remarked, keeping a straight face as she crossed her arms across her chest. Rosalie was always one to be blunt. If she differed in opinions, or even disliked what you were doing, she would tell you. She spoke her mind, which sometimes was a curse within itself.
"They're taking off their bands." Iris spoke up, giving a more clear — and less sarcastic — response to his question. "I wouldn't go over there if I were you," she warned, offering a half smile. Wells was, if you were to use such a word, hated by a lot of people. His father, Chancellor Thelonious Jaha, ruined the lives of over half the criminals on the ground. Whether it be killing a loved one or locking them up in the Sky Box, the hundred had an everlasting abhorrence for the pair of them.
