BATTLEFIELD→ lincoln [1] ✔️

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY
HOW TO BUILD A BOMB
"you are my strange addiction"
˚✧₊⁎*⁎⁺˳✧༚

     "There is no cure. . ." Dylan stepped into camp, eyes locked on Clarke as she spoke. "But the grounders don't use the sickness to kill."

     The journey back to camp was a struggle. More so then the one to Lincoln's cave. This damn virus was really getting to her, and it was like the world was spinning every time she opened her eyes. Blood was not only escaping her mouth by each cough, but it was also trickling from both eyes and her nostrils. Blood even slipped from her ears. It was bad. Like, horror movie freak stuff bad.

The blood wasn't the only thing making her look like a mess either. There were several sticks and a few leaves sticking out from the ratty nest of hair on her head, and mud smudged to her usual pale, rosy cheeks. Bellamy's first instinct when he saw her was to pull her into a hug and examine her head to two for any injuries. But he didn't. Instead he settled for his usual frown and narrowed eyes, clenching the machine gun in his hands.

"Really? Tell that to them." He pointed towards a heap of dead bodies, Connor and Derek being some of them. Good riddance, Dylan thoughts. Connor had volunteered to put the noose around her head for no good reason. It wasn't like she condemned with death, but in certain cases. . . "And I warned you about seeing that grounder again, didn't I?"

Dylan rolled her eyes. "You're not my dad, or brother for that matter. You don't really get a say in what I do or who I see, Bells. And I have a warning for you, too. The grounders are coming! And they're attacking at first light." A gasp went through the crowd, followed by whispers. From there on, Bellamy and Clarke tried to calm down the panicking teens at the same time as they were desperately trying to come up with an idea.

     Dylan was to sick to care right now (not that she would if she wasn't). She slowly started to make her way over to the drop ship, deciding that she might as well try isolating herself from the others. Octavia walked up to the shorter girl, offering her a small smile.

"Hey, haven't really seen you after the whole bridge thing. . ." Dylan flashed her a weak smile. "Are you okay?" The subject of the bridge was still a somewhat sore spot. Octavia had purposefully avoided Dylan since the whole ordeal, thinking she would blame her for what Jasper had done. Fortunately, she didn't.

"Yeah I'm good. I just think I have to lay down or something." Octavia furrowed her brows as the girl suddenly stumbled a little, shooting out to grab her before she could crash to the ground.

     "Octavia no, are you crazy, I'm sick!" Dylan exclaimed, trying to pry Octavia off of her, but with no use. The Blake girl was a whole lot stronger then Dylan had anticipated, so she was caught off guard when she suddenly swept her off her feet, swiftly carrying her bridal style into the drop ship.