Chapter 19

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

"Never-mind, here works." 

***

I felt like crap. 

 My stomach churned later that day, I was just trying to walk through camp to find Clarke and talk about Murphy, but as soon as I took a step outside, I almost fell right back over. I groaned slightly, stopping to double over in attempts to relieve my pain. I haven't felt like this in years. Like I have been hit by a bus. 

 "Nathan, are you okay-" 

 I held up my hand as Bellamy approached. "Don't-" I managed, although my voice sounded deeper than usual, and strained. "Somethings wrong." 

 Bellamy took another step forward, so I stepped back, the very motion making me want to throw up. This makes no sense, an hour ago I was fine, why do I feel like dying now? 

"Where's Clarke?" I managed, before immediately doubling over, a frantic coughing fit seizing my body. I gasped at the burning, jaw feeling in my throat, although that wasn't what freaked me out. 

 Bellamy reached over, wiping a tear from my face at the same moment I turned to show him my hand. It, along with his finger, was coated a bright red. 

 "Oh no." I took a step back, pushing Bellamy away lightly. "Did you touch Murphy?" 

 He scrunched up his face, "no." 

"Then get away from me." 

 Biological warfare. One of my favorite classes before I was imprisoned, learning that war was so much more than just fighting, it required thought, smarts, and planning. Weakening the other force may not have that much honor, but it was smart. Disease was the main tactic, infection, or, in this case, some sort of hemorrhagic fever. I knew the symptoms, Clarke and I learned at young age, due to her mother being a doctor... I can not say I am too pleased that is is happening to me. 

"Nate, I want to help-" 

 "You said I have to stop acting like it doesn't matter if I die-" I cut off, spitting a glob of blood onto the ground, continuing to back up. "Well this is me taking care of you, and myself. Okay? I need to get to Clarke." 

 "At least let me help-" 

 It was clear he wasn't going to back up, so I held up my hands again, slapping his away. "Get lost, seriously, find Monty and tell him not to come ask what's wrong." 

 With that, I used the remaining energy in my to jog to the Drop Ship, doing my best to avoid campers. I can't touch anyone, not if I am infected too. 

 "Clarke!" I burst into the Drop Ship, out of breath from my short run. I swallowed deeply, inhaling and praying that I don't cough up anymore blood. "Clarke, something-" 

 Before I could finish, my eyes widened, and my foot stepped back against my own will. Clarke had turned away from Murphy, blood smudged under her eyes. Her looked probably mirrored mine, wide eyed, mouth agape, and eyes glued on the blood that was drying on the others face. 

 "They let him go." We whispered, and under different circumstances, I would have found it amusing that we spoke in unison. They let Murphy go, to weaken us. 

"Did he do something to you?" Bellamy demanded, waving the gun he wielded in between Murphy and I. "'Cause I can shoot him, I can-" 

 "I thought I told you to get lost!" 

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