Fearless (Bellamy Blake - Book 1)

Chapter 85

"FIRE!"

Finn and I rush out from the water tent to see the meat shack on fire, the bright flames and smoke rising up through the wood. Most of the camp shout and cry as they gather around the bright blaze.

I watch Bellamy runs towards the burning shack, grabbing a hold of Octavia as she runs out of it, coughing uncontrollably. It takes me a second to snap out of my frozen state before I follow after him, grabbing ahold of Octavia as we set her down on a trunk.

"Are you okay?"

Octavia coughs and nods as Bellamy and I share a brief look, watching as all of our food goes up in flames.

"This is all your fault," I hear someone say from behind me.

I turn my head and watch Murphy stagger over to Del.

"We told you it was too much wood!"

My mouth hangs agape as Murphy pushes and punches Del, Bellamy quickly stepping in and pushing them apart.

"Hey! Hey!" Bellamy yells at them both, standing between them with his hands on their chests. "Save it for the Grounders."

Right. The Grounders who we managed to piss off even more when we bought ourselves time for their attack.

I watch the flames with an annoyed frown on my face. At least now they won't have to wait any longer to starve us out.

"Bell, now what the hell are we gonna do?" Octavia voices my thoughts to her brother, a pained expression on her face. "That was all the food."

Bellamy remains silent, looking at Clarke and I in turn, all three of us wearing the same annoyed and concerned expressions.

We are so screwed.

"All right, tell me what happened."

Bellamy and I stand in his tent, Murphy standing before us with his arms folded across his body.

"It was Del," Murphy told us confidently, "he kept feeding the fire when it didn't need to be."

"And you just watched him do it?" I question with an eyebrow raised.

"No," Murphy deadpanned, glaring at me. "Octavia was the one who told him not to do it," he turned to Bellamy, "I backed her up and said she was right. He clearly didn't wanna listen to a Grounder Pounder and a traitor."

Bellamy, trying his hardest to ignore his sister's new nickname that's circling camp, simply nods at Murphy.

"All right. You can go."

Murphy slips out of the tent and I sharply turn to Bellamy.

A couple days ago I came to the outstanding realisation that I have feelings for Bellamy. Against my better judgment, I then decided. But thankfully I've managed to go about it as normal. In fact, I haven't really spoken to him until today.

"Not that I'm questioning your judgement or anything—"

"Because you would never do that," Bellamy cuts me off, his words dropping with sarcasm.

"But it sounds to me as if you believe Murphy."

Bellamy sighs and unfolds his arms so they rest at his side, "This time I do, yeah."

I look at him as if he's the crazy one.

"Bellamy, you can't be serious," I snap.

"Think about it, Chris," Bellamy says to me, my heart fluttering slightly at the sound of my name. "Murphy's treading on thin ice. He knows that one slip up means a bullet in his skull. He's telling the truth."

I purse my lips, understanding the logic. "Well, we should still check with Octavia if it's true."

Bellamy shakes his head, "She's not talking to me, and I don't really think she'll be too happy to see you at the moment either."

I frown, "Why? Because of the Grounder—Lincoln?"

Bellamy suddenly pales, the realisation of something hitting him. He clears his throat and waves the matter off, "Doesn't matter. It's me she's annoyed with. We better go see what the damage is, fire should've been put out by now."

I reluctantly follow after him out of his tent and then stand beside Bellamy's crouched form in the midst of the meat shack remains.

Everything around us is either ashen or otherwise unusable. There's a strong, overbearing smokey meat smell in the air that makes me want to gag.

"Any idea what happened?" Clarke asks as she comes over to us.

Bellamy repeats the story from Murphy to her, and Clarke, clever as always, repeats my question.

"And we believe Murphy?" Her face scrunches up at the thought.

"I do, yeah," Bellamy tells her.

"I don't," I say, shrugging my shoulders.

"We have some wild onions and nuts in the drop ship," Clarke informs. "It's only enough to last us maybe one or two weeks. What's left here?"

I look around us at the burnt bones and carcasses that possess no use to us.

"Nothing," Bellamy voices, "it all burned."

"Then we have to hunt," Clarke says confidently, as if a sounder of boars were about to run through our gates. Grounders maybe, but not boars.

"You're kidding me right?" I say the same time Bellamy grabs her arm, stopping her from leaving.

"With a whole Grounder army out there?"

"Look, we can't defend ourselves if we're starving. Anyone we can spare goes out."

Bellamy eventually nods, accepting the idea, "Okay, but each group takes a gun."

"That is a disaster waiting to happen," I tell them both. "We can't have half the camp leaving with guns. Whoever's left here will be sitting ducks—and no offence, but some of the ducks living here are pretty stupid, it wouldn't surprise me if a Grounder knocked on the front gate and is asked politely by one of these morons to," I put on a weird voice, "'oh please, come on in!'"

Clarke sighs, "You have a point. A weird one, but relevant."

"Well, we don't have a choice," Bellamy finalises, walking away.