𝐃𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘 ── bellamy blake ¹ ✓

[ 09 ] hallucinations

1.9. | HALLUCINATIONS

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THE BUNKER PROVES to be a much more complicated structure than I anticipated; instead of ending up in a small, crammed up room, we are forced to make our way through several corridors. I swallow down the urge to vomit and avoid looking at the decayed skeletons we pass on our trek to find actual rooms that might hold supplies. So far, I have only seen a few bunk beds.

While Bellamy and I light flares and toss them around for at least a little bit of light, having just entered another dark room, Clarke rummages through some boxes.

"Hey, I found blankets!" The girl exclaims right as a flare topples out of my hand and lands next to her feet. I turn to check out the fortunate discovery.

"Hallelujah!" I sigh with relief. I hope this means I don't have to freeze my butt of at night anymore — it's a pain in the ass. Get it?

Bellamy drops another cracked flare, "Excited about a couple of blankets?"

"Well," Clarke slams the box shut, "It's something."

I draw in a sharp breath, sensing Bellamy's rising frustration, his voice a startling crescendo as he roars, "How about a canteen, or a med kit, or a decent frickin' tent?!"

I watch him intently, his fingertips dipping into a greasy substance in a barrel he opened just moments prior. Clearly, his discovery is less than enough for him — he backs up and lets his foot connect with the canister, kicking it over. The sticky fluid leaks out immediately, covering the floor around us. His angered groan and the force he uses causes me to flinch away, but the clattering sound that still reaches my ears over the chaos drags my eyes right back toward the scene at hand.

Bellamy and I lock eyes the second we notice the real contents of the barrel, the two of us stepping through the grease cautiously, intrigued gazes fixated on the pile in front of us. Bellamy kneels before it, while I shine my light onto the now unveiled weapons.

"Oh, my God," he whispers, lips parting in amazement as he carefully examines the guns.

"What?" Clarke asks, arriving by our side, eyes widening when Bellamy picks up one of the rifles, lifting it up to show it to the blonde, whose eyebrows immediately scrunch with concern. Despite Clarke's unsure countenance, Bellamy's face lights up at the sight of our one true chance to defend ourselves, as if he's a child that's being presented the world's weight in candy.

However, I can't judge, because I am painfully aware that my face is mirroring Bellamy's with pin-point accuracy. While Clarke's mortified thoughts race through her head with the speed of a hundred miles an hour, him and I ache to actually try out the weapons.

"Holy shit," I breathe out a laugh, "We got guns, boy." Bellamy flashes an even wider smile when his head turns to look at me, nodding in confirmation.