Raise Hell || The 100 [sequel to Hell and Back]

02 | Dante Wallace

There was an important concept I learned back on the dropship that I kept in the back of my head. Our camp knew Bellamy and myself were the leaders, and they listened to us because we were- sometimes- on the same wavelength, but they listened to Clarke as well. Clarke, who acted before she fully thought out her plan and always did what shee thought was best, only to learn later, that it wasn’t the best idea. I was someone, who thought things through before I dived headfirst into them.

Perhaps, that was where we went wrong today.

Clarke went off and did her own thing, while I aimlessly followed her, desperate to reunite with Jasper and Bellamy, not paying enough attention to the jagged piece of glass pressed to the random girl’s throat. I knew Clarke taking the girl as hostage was wrong and, a part of me did want to stop her, but the problem was that I didn’t do that, like I should done.

Now, we sat on the edges of two, twin beds in a vast room that strongly resembled a medical wing of sorts. There were several beds lined on the walls, odd machines beside them with tubes sticking out of parts of it.

The guards were a tad forceful when they ushered us back into the elevator and down a couple of floors before they shoved us through the door to this room, chaining us down on the beds, hands to our sides, barely allowed to lift them a couple of inches off of the mattress without being restricted. The inside of the handcuffs roughly rubbed against the thin bandages on my wrists.

A darker skinned woman in a white coat approached us after we were restrained. She stitched up the cut on my arm, along with placing a bandage on Clarke’s, hers not as deep as mine was. The woman was pretty and had a kind smile while she attended to our wounds. In my mind, I knew to be on guard, despite her friendly approach. We didn’t know what we were doing here and I knew better than to trust anyone that belonged here.

Seconds before we were captured upstairs, I told Clarke we had to pretend we weren’t a threat to the people of Mount Weather. We needed them to trust us if we ever wanted to get out of this place. If I had to lie to these people and say some things I didn’t mean, I’d do it without hesitation, if it meant getting my people back to safety.

The first thing I noticed about this medical wing was the two cameras perched on the walls. If I hadn’t been looking for them, I would have missed them altogether. They were watching at all times.

The doors of the medical wing were pulled open and three people entered the room, only one that we recognized. The girl Clarke manhandled walked alongside an older man, who could pass as someone’s grandfather, with white hair and wrinkles spread across his face with age. He was tall, towering over the doctor and the other girl, around the same height as the guards. The way he walked radiated confidence and authority, two important things that marked him as a leader. The same way Bellamy strutted around camp.

“Hello, Clarke, Wren.” The man spoke in silvery voice, lighter than I expected him to have. The corners of his lips barely lifted once he reached our two bed, choosing to stand out in front of them. His eyes darted down to our bandages. “How are your arms?”

We remained silent, side glancing at each other from our peripheral vision.

The man glanced toward the doctor. He watched as the woman joined his side, along with the girl, and the guards behind him. “Not much of a talker, are they?” His tone darkened as he added, “Skills picked from the savages, no doubt.”

My eyes narrowed marginally at his comment. Every word filled with hatred. The Grounders had another enemy, aside from our people. Frankly, I imagined everyone left on this earth was seen as an enemy to the Grounders. One of the main questions I had was why did the Grounders hate the people of Mount Weather.